All of Her: Chapter Eighteen

In my first week dating Adam I discover three things. One, he is a suicide risk whilst intoxicated. Two, he is a chronic cheater. Three, he is an amazing lover. When we finally fulfill his "Star Wars" fantasy, I discover, too both my delight and utter astonishment, that he is an even better lover than Clark. I didn't think such a thing was possible, until it happened. Beside the point of course. The chronic cheating and suicidal tendencies are not something I think I can handle.

Partially because I would feel eternally guilty if he died. Partially because he is even more disturbed than I am. And partially because I don't know what I could catch if we weren't using protection. Which frightens me. I don't like being afraid of sex because of what I could catch. Every time we are supposed to meet up he is late and smells of French perfume. A dab of lipstick is always marking his shirt or his cheek. It surprises me sometimes how soon he can go for another round after finding round one elsewhere.

I suppose, as far as the cheating goes, two can play at that game. I can cheat just as easily as he can. Probably even a little easier, being a moderately attractive and sexually available female.

In my second week dating Adam, I discover a problem. The problem is he really is a sweetheart and, as aforementioned, a fantastic lover. When we just hang out, its fabulous. We are best buddies and I enjoy that so much. We go to the adult store and play "Star Wars" dildo fights, with our own sound effects, until they kick us out. He helps do the dishes after dinner, even when I insist that he doesn't have to.

He's actually rather intelligent and he almost always beats me at Scrabble. He's a great guy except for the incessant cheating and a drunken suicide risk. It always comes back to that, of course. Mostly because its a big issue. Okay, its a really big issue.

On nights that I am not with him, I go to the gay bar and flirt with the girls. I strike up a tentative relationship with Julia, one of the cute bartenders. She always wears her vibrant red hair up in a ponytail and she isn't afraid to wear neon colors. She has a distinct affinity for "girly" drinks and this knee-length, orange, pencil skirt with a vibrant white and green rose snaking up the side. She is a great conversationalist and is not afraid to touch on controversial topics. She loves talking about politics and the supernatural.

"Did you know that the 'Bell Witch' is considered to be the only ghost to actually murder someone?" she says one night, pouring me another dirty martini.

"Really?" I say, sipping. "I thought that wasn't actually proven."

"Of course not. How could you prove a ghost killed someone? There aren't any ghostly fingerprints or ghostly DNA to test or look for. But its an interesting theory."

"I suppose if you enjoy that type of thing, yes."

"You don't believe in the supernatural?" she asks, stopping mid-pour.

"I never said that," I say. "I just don't know how 'interesting' this case is because I am not overly familiar with it."

"Its very interesting!" She says and then proceeds to tell me everything there is to know about this particular legend. She insists that she is going to go to the "Bell Witch" cave someday to see it for herself.

When we hang out she is always wanting to play her collection of Estonian rock music for me. Not that I genuinely mind, but it is a bit of a turn off when I'm trying to seduce her. When we finally get down to the naughty bits I discover that she is not very good at it. She tries, valiantly, of course, but fails miserably. I "date" her for only two weeks before we call it quits. Of course we end it amicably so I don't feel awkward whenever I go back to the bar and she is working.

In the meantime, I've still been dating Adam. We go through mood swings like a young girl going through puberty. One day we are fine and the next we are screaming at each other. One day he is fine and the next he is trying to slice his throat in my kitchen. One day we are passionate and the next we can't stand to even look at each other. After three weeks of this, I've had enough.

"Adam, we need to talk." I say, after we have finished eating.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" he asks, helping me clear off the table.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

"As in dating?"

"Yes." I run the water and start sponging off the dishes. At first he doesn't say anything and just places what I have rinsed off in the dishwasher.

"If that is really what you want." He finally says.

"I think it is for the best, don't you?" I say, turning toward him. Again he doesn't say anything. He just nods in acquiescence. I pat his arm and try to smile. I'm surprised that this kind of hurts me too. He attempts a smile and we finish the dishes together before he leaves. After he is gone, I wonder if I should've tried harder. If we should've tried harder. Even though I know that it would've never worked out.

He cheats, he drinks until he is suicidal, he breaks my heart and I'm not even in love with him. Clearly it was time to let go. At least he was kind enough to let go without a fight. On to the next victim. I mean, lover. And this doesn't take me very long at all.

I am out on the town, drinking it up at another bar on the south side of town. I feel even more at home at "The Walrus and the Carpenter" than I do at "Alice's Wonderland." It is here that I meet my next boyfriend, Liam.

Liam is a Scotch-Irish CEO of a major company. His hair is so black it is almost black-blue. He has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and ethereal blue eyes. He looks almost like a young Pierce Brosnan. He even has a slight accent, making him even more irresistible. In short, he is gorgeous, in every sense of the word. We meet during an 80's throwback dance night. We end up making out on the dance floor while a song about dancing with somebody who loves you plays. It doesn't take us long to seek some solitude and we adjourn to his green Mercedes Benz.

That is our first night together. He isn't very impressive as a lover. In fact, he is rather selfish and refuses to let me achieve any satisfaction until he is completely finished. After, as he is buckling his pants back up and I am pulling my skirt back down to my knees, he smiles and gives me a saucy kiss.

"Let's do it again sometime, darling." He says, opening the door for me. I refrain from saying that I'd rather not have sex with him again. Especially not any time soon, but I smile and don't refuse his kisses. I give him my number and we agree to meet up again, this time for lunch.

We meet up at two at a little French restaurant along a man-made canal. He orders duck in a plum-whisky sauce with a Caesar salad. I order a small salad and a braised beef stew. He is very well dressed as he has just come from work on his lunch break. I am less well dressed in bell bottom jeans, a pink polo shirt and white flip-flops. He doesn't seem to mind, but I keep catching him frown at me.

"Is there a problem?" I ask, glancing down to see if I've spilled something on myself.

"No." He says, adjusting his face. "I was just wishing you'd worn that skirt you wore last time. It was easier to get access quickly."

I blush, though I inwardly scold myself for doing so.

"You only have an hour for lunch and it will take too long to eat." I say, taking a bite of my baguette.

"We could've skipped lunch." He winks and takes a bite of his duck. I smile, a little un-easily. I'd really rather not, but I suppose I have no choice.

"Would you like to meet up when you get off work, then? I could make it worth your while."

"I can't tonight. Tomorrow." He says it as though I have no choice but to say yes, without even looking at me. I frown and take another bite of my food.

"What time?" I say, nonchalantly.

"Two. Wear a skirt and no panties. Wear some better shoes too." He never looks up, just bosses me around whilst chewing on his duck. I try to grin, placidly, but find that I am grinding my teeth. It is one thing to assume I have nothing going on tomorrow, but another to tell me what to wear. I don't say a word and we finish eating in silence. This seems to suit him. As we leave the restaurant he pushes me up against his car and kisses me. I kiss him back, because he isn't bad at that, but shy away from his hands scooting down my pants.

"You don't have time." I say, trying not to sound like I'm pleading.

"Don't tell me what I do and do not have time for." he says, rather harshly. He kisses me harder and forces his hand all the way down my pants. I don't resist him, though my skin crawls as he rubs against me. He doesn't do anything except touch me, rather roughly. As I said, he doesn't have time to do more. With a hand still in my pants, he glances at his watch and then puts a hand in his own pants.

Embarrassed, I pray that he is quick with his hand. We aren't even in the car, though we are slightly blocked by it. I expect at any moment we will be caught and my stomach threatens to relieve itself of the braised beef and salad. Luckily for us, he is fast and I try not to lose my lunch. He wipes a little drool from his lips and kisses me again. He smudges some semen on my face, which I take, but do not appreciate. He doesn't even say goodbye, but gets in his car and drives off toward his office.

I don't know what to think or feel as I get into my car. I feel slightly violated. As if I had been forced to stand naked in front of a crowd that inspected me in detail. I go home feeling like I need a shower. I do so, before heading back to the book store.

The next day I don't wear a skirt, though I don't wear any panties. I wear a different pair of sandals, but they aren't that different from what I wore yesterday. I meet him in the parking garage of his office building. As he comes toward my car, I see him slipping something shiny into his pocket. I suspect it might be a wedding ring.

"We're taking my car." He says, flatly. He opens my door for me, but he quickly becomes irked when he sees that I am not wearing a skirt. He takes a little anger out on my car door, shutting it a little harder than necessary and, when we get to his car, he does not open the door for me again. He doesn't say a word as he drives us to a motel a couple blocks down the street.

"I could've met you here." I say, quietly.

"It won't hurt you to walk back, its only a couple blocks." He says, matter-of-factly. I keep quiet.

He pays for the room and takes my hand, leading me to it. Once we are inside his displeasure at my choice of clothing is made evident.

"I told you to wear a skirt." he says, pushing me back onto the bed. At least he unbuttons my pants before yanking them down. I hear a small ripping sound and begin to protest, but he covers my mouth. I think about biting him for a moment, but I am then thoroughly distracted as he enters without any kind of foreplay and I am completely unprepared. I make a small noise of disapproval, because it isn't exactly pleasant for me, but he ignores me. He takes what he wants and then, when he is done, he buttons his pants up and kisses me goodbye. He doesn't say a word before he leaves the room.

I sit up to assess the damage to my pants and to my person. There is a little blood, but not any worse than when I lost my virginity. There is a small tear just under the back pocket of my pants, but other than that they are not the worse for wear. I don't know what to do, except sit there. I think for a moment to call my mother and Brad, but I can't bring myself to. I am too ashamed to do that. I think to call Clark, but I don't want to bring him into this mess. So I call Noah.

"This is Noah." he says, brightly.

"Noah, can you come get me." I say, trying not to cry.

"Abe? What's wrong?"

"I just, I don't know what happened. Please, come get me." I give him the address to where I am and manage to pull my pants up. I keep telling myself that I wasn't actually assaulted. I came here for sex. That was the point. But I can't stop the feeling that I have been severely violated. I get up and sit in a chair provided. I sit there, frozen, until Noah shows up.

"What happened?" he says, as soon as he opens the door. He sees me, sitting in the chair, positioned as far away from the bed as possible and doesn't say another word. He helps me stand and leads me to his car. Once we are there he holds me as I sob, uncontrollably. I don't cry because it happened or even because of the pain. I cry because a part of me feels as though I deserved this. I have been whoring it up, this is what happens. I tell myself I won't see Liam again, but I know I will. I know I can't end it just yet.

Noah takes me to my car and then follows me home. When we get there he makes me something to eat and cuddles with me on the couch. I don't tell him what happened. I don't tell him anything. I just sit quietly, curled into myself, even shying away from his touch somewhat. He stays with me all day and even all night. He doesn't leave me until I ask him to go home the next day. Even then he hesitates.

"What's going on, Abra?" he asks. "You call me and ask me to come and get you from some motel on the south side of town. No explanations. Your car is a couple blocks away in a parking garage. You are practically catatonic, you shy away from my touch. What the hell happened?"

"I had a fight with a boyfriend, that's all." I say, not daring to look at him for fear he'll see through the lie. If he knows that I'm lying he doesn't say anything. He just hugs me tightly and goes home.

That night I go out to "The Walrus and the Carpenter" and I dance with a cute stranger. We make out in a corner for a little while before we take each other's hands and begin to head out of the bar. I shove all my fears down deep and act like nothing has happened. I even manage a smile until I see Liam come in. He sees me, sees me holding hands with another guy and I can practically see the anger rolling off of him in waves.

He comes up, grabs my free hand and tries to yank me toward the door. The other guy keeps hold for a moment and then I tear free of both of them.

"Whore," he says, venomously.

"What does it matter, you are married anyway." I say. "Why should you care what I do?"

He grabs me again and pulls me out the door. He shoves me toward his car and I stumble.

"How dare you?" he says. He pulls back and slaps me as hard as he can. My head jerks to the side and I taste blood in my mouth. It takes a moment for my vision to clear. I shake my head and hold a hand to my lip. He pulls back to hit me again, but a familiar hand stops him. He turns and gets punched in the mouth by Adam. Adam punches him again and shoves him to the ground. Once he is on the ground he kicks him in the ribs and grabs my hand. He pulls me away and we run to his car, before Liam even has a chance to catch his breath.

We drive off, but we don't go far. Adam pulls over and before I realize what is happening I am in his arms, crying.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asks, brushing a loose strand of hair out of my face. He lifts my chin and examines my lip. I have a cut from biting it when Liam slapped me. He kisses it gently and wipes away a stray tear.

"What were you doing there?" I ask. He already knows I'm not okay, why answer that question when I have so many myself.

"Drinking, like you." he says, smiling. "I saw you heading toward the door and then saw that asshole drag you out. I decided to follow, in case he tried to do something. I'm just sorry I didn't get there quick enough to stop him from getting the first hit off. I'm sorry, Abra, I tried."

I don't say anything, I just curl into his arms and cry some more. I am shaking.

"Don't leave me." I say. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't." He says, quietly. He kisses my hair and drives me home. When we get to my apartment, he carries me up, like a bride on her wedding night. He helps me change into pajamas, though I hate for him to see me. I have bruises from my last encounter with Liam along my sides and hips. He doesn't say anything, but I can see him getting angry.

Once I am changed, he turns on a movie and makes me a cup of cocoa. He holds me tightly, but gently. He doesn't leave, though I can tell that he'd like to go and continue beating the shit out of Liam. He stays with me all night, like Noah did the night before. He makes arrangements for a friend of his to bring my car home the next day. He stays with me the next day and the day after that. He leaves me for a short while to get a change of clothes from his place, but he returns within an hour. Total, he stays with me four days.

On the fourth day, I kiss him. I kiss him until he is as eager as I am. I can't stand it, I have to purge myself of Liam. I have to. I kiss him until he can't stand it anymore and he carries me to my bedroom. Instead of just sex, for the first time in a long time, we make love. He is tender, only too aware of the horrific bruising that patterned my body for a short time. He takes his time and kisses me, whispering sweet nothings to me. We aren't meant to be together forever, but for the moment we are perfectly imperfect and for a few moments I can be in love with him.

He leaves that night, to go home and change. I tell him that I will be fine. I never let Liam know where I lived and that was the last time I would go to "The Walrus and the Carpenter." I will just stay close to home from now on.

"I'll come check on you later, then." He kisses me goodbye. We don't say anything about what happened at the bar or what happened between us. I know he felt what I did, but we don't mention it. We don't ever speak of it, actually. It is as though it never happened, though it is a moment I will cherish for the rest of my life. When I needed him, he was there.

We decide to date again, even though we both know that it won't last. We end up being a couple for another week before Adam asks me to forget him. Even though he says that we will still be friends, that is the last time I see him. He becomes a beautiful memory, just somebody I used to know.