All of Her: Chapter Ten

Clark and I have been together for a month today. I doubt that he realizes this, because he is a man. A sweetheart, but a man nonetheless. I ponder this "anniversary" while at work. David and I never celebrated monthly anniversaries. At least, David didn't. I celebrated our monthly anniversaries for the first few years, before finally giving up. I wonder if it makes it an "official" relationship if I celebrate a month of together-ness.

While I ponder this, Jahan comes in. She smiles and sits next to me at the end of the counter. It is a slow day and I haven't even touched the shelves I should be sorting.

"You look so serious." she says. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing intelligent, I can tell you that." I smile and grab a book that we've been working on. We have been reading through another book of medieval poetry. What started off as a brief curiosity has turned into a full blown obsession with medieval poetry of various ethnicities. Of course, it may not be the only developing obsession.

I have been spending a lot of time with Jahan, both at school and here at work. I am developing a small crush on her. I wonder, briefly, if the reason for this is because she is so completely hidden from me. I crave an actual glimpse of her face, not just her pretty gray eyes. It is pointless, of course, to even dream of seeing her uncovered.

It isn't just that she is covered, however, that attracts me. She is passionate and so very much alive. She devours the books we read. She brings up the most interesting topics for us to discuss. Her intelligence shines so brightly and I am drawn, like a moth, to that brightness. That is one of the things that drew me to Clark, as well. His obvious intellect and ability to maintain a conversation outside the bedroom.

It doesn't matter anyway. She could never find me attractive in that way. Not that it matters right now because I have Clark. For the time being.

Jahan and I spend a pleasant afternoon reading and discussing poetry.

"I have taken up poetry." she says, taking a sip out of her water bottle.

"Really? What kind of poetry are you writing?"

"Nothing as exquisite as what we've been feasting on. Just some simple poems about dreams and ideas I have. Thoughts about my family and other such topics."

"Will you let me read some of what you've written sometime?" I ask, smiling.

"Some day, maybe." The corners of her eyes crinkle and I can tell that she is smiling too. Her eyes dance and I feel myself wanting to lift her veil and kiss her. I'm not sure that the kiss would be entirely chaste either. I really can't keep having these thoughts. She would be offended and I would lose a friend. I don't have many that I should run headlong into losing them.

She leaves after a little while and I start to close up shop. I am spending the night at Clark's tonight. The school year is almost finished and I will get to spend some time with my Latin lover. He is supposed to meet me here any moment now. I smile when I look up and see him walking my way. He gives me a kiss and I hook my arm through his. We walk around the square of downtown, talking and laughing.

He gives me another kiss under a light spangled tree. This one is a little warmer than the first. I feel it melt into me like alcohol. He takes my hand and we run to his car. We arrive, breathless and laughing like school children. I lean against his car and he kisses me again. Every kiss makes me warmer. It is already too warm without these kinds of kisses.

We fly through the door of his apartment and collapse on the couch. We are laughing, kissing, touching and getting ready to explode into flames. We barely make it to the bedroom before our clothes have vanished and we are a tangled heap on the bed.

After we are done, we lie snuggled up in bed. His fingers trace lazy circles on my skin and goosebumps surface. My head rests on his shoulder and my arm is draped across his chest. This feels so comfortable, so perfect. Could we stay like this forever? I close my eyes and wonder, again, if I could fall in love with him.

"I love you." He whispers. He says it so quietly I think I have misunderstood him. I care about him, but I don't love him. Could I lie and say it back? I can't. I don't have the heart to lie about something so precious as love, so I remain quiet. I feel him tense under my head. He is waiting for a response and I don't have one to give. I snuggle closer to him, holding on tightly. After another beat he relaxes again, but his breath comes out as a melancholic sigh.

We decide to go out for dinner. All of our afternoon love making has made us voracious. We walk to the Hob-Knob cafe, just a few blocks from Clark's apartment. Though we are linked, arm in arm, I don't feel like we have regained the gaiety of earlier. Its my fault, of course. I didn't tell him that I loved him. Caring is such a pale emotion compared to love, why would I try to dress it up as such?

At the cafe, I order a Maine lobster spread on toast. Clark orders apple roasted chicken salad. We eat in relative silence. It is broken every now and then by inquiries regarding the food. Which is delicious. For dessert we split a slice of caramel apple cheesecake. This, too, is eaten in silence.

On the walk back to Clark's, we are not linked. He seems to walk a little ahead of me, in fact. I jog to catch up and grab his hand. He doesn't pull it away, but he doesn't actively hold my hand either. I didn't realize he was going to be this upset. I should've said something in response, but I couldn't lie to him. I care enough not to lie. I want an easy break-up with him. A friendship after the break. Lying would not increase the odds of friendship.

When we get back, he tactfully removes his hand from my grip. We go in and sit on the couch. Neither one of us makes the move to turn on the TV or to get out the board games. In fact we make no effort to do anything. We just sit there.

After a few minutes I can't stand it anymore.

"Is something wrong, Clark?" I turn to face him.

"No. I'm fine."

"You are lying."

"Why didn't you say 'I love you' back?" He doesn't sound angry. He doesn't even really sound sad, a little confused and maybe a little hurt. However, he looks so sad I can hardly stand it. I can't tell him that I don't love him, but I can't tell him I love him. I have to think of something to say.

"Look, I really care about you. You know that. But we've only been together for a month and I am just getting out of a bad break-up with someone I'd been with for ten years. Don't you think it is a little fast?" I scoot closer to him and take his hand. I squeeze it, gently, and try to smile reassuringly. I smile as if I will fall in love with him and we will be together forever. My smile is a lie, a sweet trap for him to fall into.

He is quiet, letting my words sink in. He smiles then. His smile pleads for indulgence and he kisses me. I continue to pretend that everything will be fine and kiss him back. Even the kiss is a lie. I feel guilty for leading him in this direction, but I can't stand the thought of him knowing that I'll never love him the way he wants me to.

He gets up and turns on some music. He takes my hand, pulls me up off of the couch and into his arms. We dance around his living room, just slow dancing. I listen to the lyrics. I know he didn't mean to, but he picked a song that is really speaking to me. He softly sings along in my ear. There is an ache in my heart when he sings, his hand on my hip and his other hand in mine.

Have I sold all of my dreams? What happens if the rain comes to wash me and I still don't know who I am when it is gone? I rest my head on his chest and move my feet in time with his. We dance until the sunlight filtering through the curtains has melted away into soft shadows. We don't talk, only swaying back and forth to the soft lilt of music. The disc comes to an end and we stop.

I look up at him, a trickle of moonlight, coming from below the curtain, pools around our feet. He smiles. It is not as warm as earlier, not as happy. He seems diminished somehow. I want to change that. If I could go back to earlier, I would've lied and just said those three words back. What power do they hold over me now? Every "I love you" David ever said was a lie. Why shouldn't I follow suit? I can't stand to think about any of it anymore. I decide that we should do something random. Maybe I can cheer Clark up in the process.

"Clark, let's go fly kites! The weather is perfect for it." I say, enthusiastically. He looks stunned for a moment and then smiles.

"Its dark outside though." He says, gesturing toward the windows.

"We could get glow sticks and attach them to the kites. That way we can see them. It will be fun! We could pack up a little picnic dinner and drive down to the beach."

He smiles again and I tug on his hand, pulling towards the door. While he looks for his sandals, I grab a sheet and make a few hasty sandwiches. Sandals on, he grabs the sheet, and my hand, and we head out the door.

We stop at the store for glow sticks, drinks and, obviously, kites. At the beach we break our glow sticks and attach them to the kites. I run up and down with the glowing kites until they drift upward. I giggle with joy, like a little kid, watching the kites and glow sticks dance in the breeze. For the first time, in a long while, I feel content and happy.

I feel like nothing can spoil this moment. The moon is shining brightly, I have glowing kites dancing above the water and a sweet guy to eat a picnic dinner with. I don't think I would've ever done this before. There are many things I have never done because David wouldn't have liked it.

We bury the handles deep in the sand so that we can eat our sandwiches. It is fun to watch them careen across the moonlit sky.

"We should do this again, sometime. Except make our own kites. Maybe we could make the frames out of glow sticks or the glow stick bracelets!" I say, dreamily munching on my sandwich.

Clark smiles and nods, his eyes following the flow of the kites.

"When you graduate, and I am done teaching for the summer, we can do this every night if you like."

"I'd like that." I say, smiling at him. I give him a kiss and then lean back on my elbows to watch our kites.

We sit in peaceful silence for a while, just watching the kites drift on the wind. I think about all the different kites I want to make and how much fun it would be to do something like this more often. I try to stop it, but a wish bubbles up into my daydreaming. A wish that David and I could be doing this together.

The wind dies down and our kites begin to falter. We unearth the handles and quickly reel them in before they are lost to the water. We try to get them going again, running up and down the beach like crazy people, laughing like lunatics. When they refuse to go up again we give up and pack everything back into the car.

Once we arrive back at Clark's, he kisses me. A lingering kiss. A hinting kiss. I smile and we grab everything and carry it up to his place. He kisses me again, once everything is put away and then pushes a stray wisp of hair back behind my ear.

"Thank you for a wonderful night, Abra." He says, kissing my cheek and then trailing kisses down my neck. Before I can say anything his mouth is on mine and that is the only response he needs.

The next morning, I am just lying in bed. Clark has already gotten up and is in the kitchen, cooking I believe.

I can't stop thinking. My thoughts are all jumbled and mixed up. I'm so confused. I can't help hating myself for being so blind for so long. I can't help but hate Alice and David for leading me on and breaking my heart. I want to stop remembering all of the signs and finally understanding what they meant. I want to let myself care more about Clark, maybe build a relationship to be proud of.

I can't. I just can't fall in love with him. I can't trust him. He is the enemy in this scenario. He is the heart-breaker here, the vice that I can't escape from. He isn't David. He isn't the enemy, but I can't make myself believe that. Sometimes, when we are having sex I will see David's face, looming over me. He isn't there. Only Clark is there. Clark. The man who slows down and comes to a stop when he sees the panic in my face. The man who forgets about getting what he wants and will just hold me when I start to shake uncontrollably, crying again.

In my dictionary of love affairs, Clark will be the definition of a "perfect boyfriend." He will be a shining example of what men should be like, but I can't fall in love with him. I can't reconcile my feelings for, and about, David to what I feel about Clark. I have to maintain control over my emotions.

I need to get out of this before I get too into it. I'm already too far. I'm playing with fire and not only am I about to be burned, but someone who doesn't deserve it is about to be burned as well.

I ask myself the important questions.

If Clark was in a terrible bear wrestling accident and lost most of his face and his ability to... well, you know... could I stay with him?

If I was pregnant with an alien love child would he cry when it exploded my heart?

If I we were going to an ocean colors party and I wore blue, but he refused to wear green what would I do?

Okay, those questions are silly and I'm trying to be serious. I honestly can't think of a reason to break up with him. He is perfect. He cooks, he flies kites with me at night, he cares about me. I don't love him, but is that reason enough to leave him? Could I learn to love him? Could I let go of all this hatred that is burning me up? I don't like asking myself these questions so I switch back to silly ones.

I need coffee. I need to break up with Clark, before I become too attached. I need a new boyfriend and/or a new course of action. I need a new life.

My cell phone begins to chirp. The caller ID says Noah. I let it go to voice-mail. He'll be mad that I'm not answering. Oh well.

Clark comes in with a plate of steaming waffles and a cold glass of dark chocolate almond milk on a tray.

"Good morning, beautiful. Breakfast?" He sets the tray down next to the bed and slides in next to me. I summon a smile and we eat.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks.

"Whether there are angels on the moon. You?" I take another bite of homemade waffle, followed by a swig of almond milk.

"A beautiful woman." He says.

"What lucky woman?" I ask.

"You." He leans over and nibbles my ear sending a shiver through me.

I smile and take another bite of waffle. He takes a drink of his almond milk and winks at me. I try to stifle a guffaw, but can't help it. We end up laughing through the rest of breakfast.

Once we are done eating, I help him do the dishes and get dressed for another day. I head to the book store and he heads to the school to post some final grades. He gives me a goodbye kiss and off I go.

As I am trying, unsuccessfully, to unlock the door of "Wilde: Rare and Used Books", my phone begins to chirp again.

"Hello?" I say, tucking the phone in-between my face and my shoulder whilst attempting to open the door.

"Hey, what are you doing today?" I am caught a little off guard, I thought it was Noah. Instead it is my sister, Anna.

"Nothing much, work. You?" I finally get the door to open and manage to grab the phone before I drop it.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to watch the kids this next week. Greg wants to take me out on a movie date. Em and Sophie have finals this week and Mom is finishing up her art class at the college. And Kevin has a date, apparently. Help, Abra Kenobi,  you're my only hope."

I laugh, flipping on the lights through out the store. I don't know which is funnier. Kevin having a date or being called "Abra Kenobi."

"I suppose I could help you out. Its just going to be so rough having to watch the kids, Ann. I mean, after all they are related to you."

"Ha ha, very funny. You know you love watching my kids. Especially so I can go and have some alone time with my husband. I might even be persuaded to scoot a little green your way, if that helps."

"You don't have to pay me, I don't mind. Just don't expect me to clean or anything like that and we'll be good."

"Deal!" My poor sister, I give her such a rough time.

"So, Kevin has a date, huh?" I set my bag on the floor and begin to count the cash register drawer.

"Apparently so. He met some girl at the Wilford and Brimley. He wouldn't give me details, but insisted that he was completely booked all next week."

"Wow, one date books up the whole week. Must be a very interesting girl." I laugh, but experience a little guilt for it. I feel a little sorry for my brother. He hasn't had a date in a year. Not that he generally has time to date anyway. He is always working or at Mom's helping Brad with upkeep. I shouldn't tease him, especially when he isn't here to defend himself. But what else are little sisters for?

"He hasn't had time to date, you know. Between work and... well, work. I don't mind, but I still need some time to just be with my hubby. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"It'll be fine. The kids and I will have a grand ol' time. So grand they'll have completely forgotten about you before you even leave."

"How nice. Well, I guess I'll let you get back to work. Call me later so that we can talk more about which day works best for you and what time. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. Talk to you later, love you."

"Love you too, sis." With that, my sister hangs up and I realize I am still standing in front of the cash register with un-counted money in my hands.

Once all the money is accounted for, I begin to dust. As I dust, I pick out books I am planning on reading today and I lay them on the counter. The bell on the door jingles as a customer comes in.

"Good morning, welcome to 'The Wilde'." I say, not really looking up.

"Good morning, Abe." I look up to see Noah. He is smiling, his eyes twinkling over his John Lennon glasses. His hair is rakishly styled and there is a glow about him.

"Hello, what are you doing here?" I ask, going to hug him.

"You didn't answer your phone so I thought I would stop in. Still hanging out with Oscar, James and Edgar, I see." He glances over my book choices resting on the counter.

"I never quite leave their company, do I?" I smile and pull up a chair for him. "May I offer you some tea? I have Sencha Kyoto Cherry Rose Festival, Lapsong Souchong, Earl Grey, Sevenberry Sangria Rooibos and Strawberry Misaki Blooming."

"Some Earl Grey would be nice." He says. I set a kettle of water on a little stove situated several feet from the counter. The idea of serving tea had been my idea. Luckily for me, my boss, Mrs. Hafstead, approved and had a small stove top situated behind the counter.

"Any other reason for coming to visit?" I ask, retrieving cups and saucers from under the counter.

"No. I was thinking about you and thought I would visit. Maybe see if you wanted to go get some coffee later."

"Why not?" I say. "Sounds like fun to me. We can go on my lunch break, if you like."

"Sounds fine to me."

The kettle whistles and I pour it into our cups, over our tea-bags. We sit in happy silence, steeping our tea and listening to the soft classical music drifting through the, otherwise, empty store.