All of Her: Chapter Eight

Firstly, I'd like to apologize for not putting this up sooner. I finished it a few days ago and have simply forgotten to post it. So, for those of you who were waiting for chapter eight (with baited breath, I'm sure) here it is, with my apologies for the lateness.

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Chapter Eight
I spend the night at Clark's. I probably should've gone home, but I was drinking and then we were having sex in his big bed. Then I was falling asleep in his arms, dreaming of lambs and David smiling at Alice.

I open my eyes to discover that it's eight o'clock. I am late. Shit.

I jump up and grab my clothes. I can't find my underwear, what did we do with it? I throw a pair of pants onto the bed and frantically search the room.

"Babe, what are you doing?" mumbles Clark. His face is half buried in his pillow, but he cracks one lavender eye to squint at me.

"I'm late! Where did we throw my underwear?" I'm still searching and getting more worried with each item of clothing I find.

"Babe," he says. I look up and he has my underwear hanging from one finger. I grab them and pull them on. Great, first time in a year and a half that I've been late. First time for everything right?

"Thanks," I say, giving him a hasty kiss before grabbing my sandals and running out the door.

I am now standing at my car, patting myself down for my keys. Nope. Not on me. I turn around and see Clark coming down the stairs, in his boxers. A little morning wood showing. He has my keys, though. Already he is proving to be a great boyfriend and we've only been dating for a day.

I accept the keys and give him another kiss, a more appropriate 'thank you' kiss this time. He waves to me as I start the car and pull out of the parking lot.

I smack my steering wheel and then immediately regret it. I speed all the way to my apartment, practically crashing into my neighbor's powder blue Prius as I zip into my parking spot. I sprint up the sidewalk and into my apartment, throwing on clothes and brushing my hair as I race through.

I look awful, but hopefully no one expects me to look perfect my first day back to work after my honeymoon. Except I didn't have a honeymoon. Because I didn't get married. Because my fiance left me at the altar. For my best friend.

Everything comes crashing in at that moment and I collapse on the couch, bawling. I am wasting my time. I should be at the accounting firm right now. Instead, I'm sitting here, a sobbing heap. I'm a mess. I'm a disaster in pink high heels on a purple plaid couch, with a very confused Siamese cat.

You would think that after a few weeks I would be okay with everything. You'd think the wounds would be healing and I'd be moving on with my life, instead of a sobbing mess all the time. Apparently I'm not a fast healer.

"This is getting a little ridiculous, don't you think?" says my inner voice.

I have lost all concept of time in this downward spiral. Snuggles meows, persistently, nuzzling my ankles. He is annoyed that I won't stop blubbering to pick him up. I don't blame him. I want someone to hold me too.

When I finally stop crying, its almost ten. I call work and tell them I'm not going to be able to come in. Luckily, my voice sounds awful since I've been crying, so I sound convincing.

I'm sure they think I am 'sick' from screaming during all the wild honeymoon sex I've been having. Or that I've been giving a lot of blowjobs. Or maybe they think it is an excuse to stay home and have more honeymoon sex. It doesn't matter either way. I have not been having copious amounts of newly married sex.

Since I'm not going to work, I strip down and put on some pajamas. Upon inspection, I discover my freezer is empty of a critical item. Ice cream. This isn't good. We have a code iceberg, the Titanic is going down. I need ice cream, right now.

I text Noah. When in need, always ask the best gay friend. He still hasn't texted me back after a few minutes. I stare at my phone, willing it to beep or chirp or something. After another moment it begins to chirp and I jump to answer it.

"Hello?" I croak, my throat hurts from sobbing.

"Are you okay? You sound awful!"

"No, I'm not okay. I have a code iceberg going on right now. Help me!" I flop onto the couch, apparently cuing the cat to jump onto my stomach.

"Code iceberg? Is that the one where your life is going up in flames?"

"No. That's SOS code Hindenburg, though I can see where you could confuse the two. Where are you right now?" I ask, petting a very happy Snuggles.

"A really cute guy's arms." I can hear him smiling through the phone.

"You are with someone?" I say, sitting up and almost knocking Snuggles off the couch. Noah hasn't been in a relationship for a while, so this is a bit of a shock. Especially with the lecture he just gave me yesterday.

"Let me call you back, Abe." I hear what sounds like a passionate kiss and then silence. I'm not sure if he has muted the phone or if he has hung up. I wait a moment and still don't hear anything. Then I hear a distinct click.

I guess this means I'm going to have to deal with this code iceberg all on my own.

Against my will, I begin to put on real clothes. If I felt worse than I do, I would probably not even care, but I still have a shred of dignity. It is while I am re-arranging myself into a more presentable fashion that I realize I don't have my purse. I must've left it at Clark's.

I plop down on the couch. Snuggles jumps up beside me and begins to rub against my arm. I prop my chin against my fist, like Rodin's Thinker, and decide that I should really go back to Clark's. I should really get my purse, because it is important to have my driver's license, blah, blah, freakin' blah.

Dutifully, I trudge out to my car. When I turn it on I hear a voice singing about not recognizing yourself. I glance up at myself in the rear-view. Just like the vocalist, I can't seem to recognize the girl staring back at me. I thought I knew her so well, once.

With a sigh, I start up my car and drive back over to Clark's. Its only been two days and I'm already forgetting things. I'm going to seem like a huge idiot. Not that I should worry about how I look, because the point is this relationship not lasting. However, I'm not going to break-up with a cute guy that I've only had sex with a few times after one day of dating. That is just silly.

Clark opens the door before I even knock. There is a brief moment where I have my hand, awkwardly, poised to knock without making contact with anything. I quickly drop it and smile. Clark smiles back and holds out my purse.

"I figured you would realize it was gone and come back this way."

Sheepishly, I take my purse and then stand there awkwardly wondering what to do next.

"Want to come in? Or do you have to rush right back to work?" He steps to the side and holds the door open for me.

I suddenly realize I don't want to say anything because my voice sounds like I swallowed fistfuls of glass from crying. But I can't just smile and leave without a word. That would be so weird. I smile and, meekly, go inside. He closes the door behind me.

"Are you okay? You are being very quiet." He looks kind of concerned. I smile and shake my head. I feel like the mermaid from Hans Christian Anderson's fairy tales right now. Ugh, I have to say something soon. I may implode.

"I'm fine." I squeak.

"You don't sound fine. Did you sound like that this morning?" As he talks he goes towards the kitchen and puts a tea kettle on the stove.

I sit down on his couch and mutter a mostly incoherent "No."

The next thing I know he is pressing a warm mug of tea into my hands.

"It's Moroccan, sweet and perfect for soothing a sore throat." He sits next to me and looks at me until I take a sip. It is pretty delicious. He is being so nice to me. I so don't deserve it.

"Thank you," I whisper, sipping my tea.

We sit in silence for a short time. Me sipping tea, him thumbing through a stack of what looks like reports on the impact of Latin on language as a whole. I find myself actually very interested in the subject. So much so that I sneak peeks every now and then. I eventually rest my head on his shoulder and he turns his head a little to kiss me.

Its such a simple thing. Its like we've been together for a while, rather than a couple days. It feels odd to me. Comfortable, but odd.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks, nonchalantly. He doesn't even glance up from his papers.

"I over-thought." I say.

There is another silence. I wonder, briefly, if he is annoyed with me for acting the way I have been.

"You can't allow him to have this control over you." He says, still not looking at me.

"I know."

He turns to look at me, with my head still resting on his shoulder. He kisses me and smiles.

"I promise not to preach," he says. "I just like you and don't want to see you hurt yourself."

I smile, reassuringly, and snuggle against him as he returns to grading papers. He is right, though. I can't allow David to control my life like he does. I can't let every little memory create a whole collapse of my life. I can't allow him to ruin my life every five minutes. I'd never get anything done. Its ridiculous to live like that. Even more ridiculous than the self-destructive path on which I am already set.

After a time, Clark cooks some lunch/dinner and we enjoy a quiet meal together. We converse, minimally, as if talking too much will break some kind of spell. Only disaster can follow too much conversation.

I help him do the dishes and we play a game of chess before I say goodbye. We kiss in the doorway and I drive home, calm and relaxed. I didn't need ice cream after all.

At home the cat meows hungrily at me. I feed him and stroke his silky fur before switching into some pajamas and snuggling up on the couch. I flip through the channels, trying to find something interesting to watch. I eventually settle on a program centered around a woman with too many children. However, it bores the hell out of me and I end up turning it off after fifteen minutes.

The cardinal clock on the wall says it is not late enough to go to bed. If I go to bed now I won't sleep very well and I'll end up pacing the floors at four in the morning, waiting for it to be time to get ready for work.

I glance over the books on my bookshelf and eventually settle for "Secondhand World" by Katherine Min. It is a favorite of mine, one that I've read many times, and I decide to make a cup of cocoa to go with it. While my cocoa is heating up I hear my phone begin to chirp.

I search all over for it before realizing it is in my pant's pocket in the bedroom. I run to grab it and catch it on it's last ring.

"Is code Iceberg still ongoing?" Noah sounds far too happy for my good.

"No. It has been defused by tender companionship." I say, settling back onto the couch with my cup of cocoa and my book.

"Tender companionship? From whom, dare I ask?"

"The new boyfriend." I reply, nonchalantly. I flip to the first chapter of my book and take a sip of my cocoa.

"I see. Decided to make it an official rebound relationship rather than just a rebound one or two night stand?" He sounds rather sarcastic. I don't approve.

"Might as well, right? I mean, its not like I don't have the rest of my life to have one or two night stands. Might as well have a rebound relationship or two while I'm at it. Makes me seem like less of a slut, don't you think?"

He is quiet. I don't say anything. I refuse to fill the silence, partially because it will only serve to make him more angry at me. Ah, the joys of the silent treatment.

After another moment of tense silence, I decide to say something. Anything to either get him to speak or hang up the phone.

"Are you still there?"

"I'm thinking." He says.

"Does it hurt?" I say, giggling.

"No." He snaps. "I think you are being an idiot, Abe."

"And I think I am too." This stuns him into another silence.

"Then why do it? What are you doing anyway?"

"I'm competing in the sex Olympics. Whoever has sex with the most partners, in the most positions, wins. I think I have a good shot at the silver this year, maybe gold if I work hard enough."

"You never take anything seriously!" He shouts. I jerk the phone away from my head before my eardrum bursts.

"It's complicated, darling. I can't explain it. It does no good for me to anyway. You will only yell at me some more and then continue to be mad at me. What if I told you that I genuinely like Clark? What if I said that it isn't just the sex or break-up songs? What if I said that I am not being self-destructive, I'm just experimenting? Would you believe me?" I sit my book on the end table alongside my cooling cocoa.

"No, I wouldn't believe you. Because I know you better than that. Just tell me what you hope to achieve with this scheme. You want to relate to break-up songs? There are plenty for this one relationship, without going out and finding more. You want to sleep around? I don't really blame you. You'd only ever been with David and I'm sure that your curiosity has reached its limit. But curiosity killed the cat. And you don't have nine lives to spare."

"I'm an adult, Noah. Believe it or not. I think I can make my own decisions. Regardless of the consequences."

"Yes, but can you live with those consequences?"

That is the elephant in the room, isn't it? I know I can make the decisions. I can be self-destructive. It is easy to spiral downward into the abyss of sexual self-destruction. Is it so easy to deal with the myriad of possible consequences that come with that spiral?

"I suppose that is something I'll just have to find out."

"I hope that you find out sooner, from small consequences, rather than later, from bigger ones. You know how to get a hold of me, if you need me." He sounds defeated, tired of the whole thing. To think, we haven't even started yet. And, as gracefully as an angry man can, he hangs up on me.