I’m driving home from Ryann’s and it’s almost eleven at night. I’m trying to figure out what to do about Ryann and her wanting to see my place. There’s no way I’m taking her home. I’d have to hide all the pictures of Nanda and I just don’t think it’s a good idea to take a woman to the house. I decide to call Pete, one of my property managers, to see if any of my properties are vacant. I hate calling him this late, but I do.
“I hope I didn’t wake you, Pete, but I’m in a bit of a jam.”
“Don’t worry about it, I was watching TV with Martha. What’s up?”
“Do we have any vacancies now?”
“There are a few. What do you need?”
“Anything. Preferably something small. ASAP.”
“How soon?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Two apartments are being painted and recarpeted and those will be at least a few more days. One of the studios on Speedway opened up today, but I haven’t even checked it yet. The girl just moved out today.”
“That’s what I need, Pete. Do you think you can have it cleaned by noon tomorrow? I need to move some things in.”
“It’ll be tight, but I’ll do my best.”
“The other apartments you told me about, were they furnished?”
“One of them was.”
“I could use a bed, a dresser, and maybe a chair.”
“I’ll have the guys put a bed and dresser in after they clean. What kind of chair?”
“I don’t know. A love seat or a recliner. Anything.”
“I’ll take a look around and see what there is.”
“Thanks, Pete. You deserve a raise. You’re not getting one, but you sure do deserve one.”
“The dresser isn’t looking all that sharp. Sam was going to sand it down and restain it.”
“How bad does it look?”
“I guess it depends how picky you are.”
“Is it passable?”
“I think so.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need much.”
“I’ll try my best to have the guys finished by noon, but I can’t promise anything. It’s not a lot of time.”
“Don’t worry about it, Pete, just do what you can. I’ll drop by in the morning for the key.”
I’m home and figure I’d start to get some things together for tomorrow. I’m walking around the house setting some things aside as I go: clothes, plates, cups, silverware, something to cook in, blankets, towels, books and magazines. Most of the stuff fits in the trunk of the car; only the books and magazines have to go on the back seat.
I’m lying in bed. Nanda’s in San Francisco and I’ve promised to take Ryann to a place I’m not even sure will be ready by tomorrow.
Morning. I’m on my way to get the key to the studio apartment. The windows are down and cool wind swirls around me. My phone rings. It’s Ryann.
“You skydiving over there, Mister?” I can barely understand her and put the windows up.
“There. that’s better,” I say.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m on my way to see my property manager. I’m a busy guy, remebmer?”
“You wanna get some lunch later?”
“Sure.”
“One o’clock?”
“How about two? Is that too late?”
“You can’t make it earlier?”
“Doesn’t look like I can.”
“Two’s fine then. Come by my place. I’ll make us something.”
“See you there.”
I hang up and put the windows down again. I love these cool mornings. It won’t be long before it gets too hot.
Pete’s not at the office. “Mr. Thompson left this for you,” says the secretary, “He should be back in an hour or two.”
I leave and give Pete a call. He says the place is being cleaned now and now they’re waiting for the driver to arrive with the furniture. “The driver’s on the other side of town,” he says, “He’ll be a while.” There’s no point in going by the apartment now, so I go to the bank and the post office and run a few other errands. It’s just past noon. The guys are finishing up when I arrive. The first thing I notice is that the walls can use some painting, but there’s no time. It’s clean and that’ll do for now.
I unload the things from the car and set them in a corner. The studio is small, nothing more than a medium-sized room with a kitchen and bathroom. The cups and plates go into the cupboards and the silverware in the drawers. The place looks so bare. It just now occurs to me that there’s no microwave oven. The driver isn’t here yet and I can’t think of anything else to do, so I go to Walmart to buy a microwave oven, toilet paper, toothpaste, and things of that sort. I’m in a hurry and it’s the first time in a while that there are women around me and I’m not figuring out the best way to start up a conversation. I fill up the cart, make my way through the checkout, and I’m driving back to the apartment. A truck is parked outside. When I walk inside the studio, the dresser and a recliner are already there. The dresser does look like it’s been through a lot. I open and close the doors and drawers and they all work fine. Two guys are carrying a mattress in.
“Hi, guys,” I say. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“We got bad news, Boss. We made it, but the bed didn’t,” says the fat guy. I’m looking at the mattress, confused, and then the short guy says, “The bed’s broke. We was gonna bring it, but there was no point in it, it was that banged up.”
“You got the box spring?”
“Just the mattress, Boss. There was no box spring.”
Fantastic. I only have a mattress for a bed. “That’s fine, guys. Just leave it there.” It wasn’t their fault. They set the mattress down and were soon on their way out. I setup the microwave oven, put the clothes in the dresser, and the toiletries in the bathroom. I have half an hour to be at Ryann’s. I’m putting the sheets on the bed and realize they are too big. There isn’t time to buy new ones, so I use the ones I brought and tuck the extra material under the mattress.
There isn’t much traffic and when I walk up to Ryann’s front door it’s exactly two o’clock. I knock and seconds later see her peek through the blinds. She opens the door and greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. She smells good and it feels good to hug her.
“Lunch is ready!” She seems overly happy.
“This is just like those old TV shows,” I say.
“I know. All that’s missing is your briefcase.”
“I left it in the car. I can go get it if—“
“You’re so silly.”
“And that’s why you love me.”
She’s doing something at the counter and has her back to me. It feels good that someone is this happy to see me. I get up, go up to her, and hug her from behind. “I’ve been running around all morning,” I tell her. “I’m glad I’m finally here.”
“Can I tell you something?” She’s looking at me over her shoulder.
“What?”
She smiles first. “I really wanted to see you.” My arms tighten around her and our faces are touching at the cheeks. “Come on, let’s go sit. Lunch is ready.”
It’s chicken noodle soup and sandwiches with peach iced tea. We sit eating and I can feel how happy she is. I’m happy to see her too, but with the happiness there’s also guilt. Strangely, I don’t feel bad because of Nanda; It’s because of Ryann that I feel this way. I don’t like having to lie. I know that at some point, someone is going to get hurt.
“More crackers?” she says. I accept.
We’re finished eating and I suggest we go for a drive. The afternoon isn’t cool like the morning was, but it’s still pleasant enough to drive around with the windows down. Her blonde hair blows in the wind and I remember playing Outrun when I was little. There’s a Dairy Queen on the way to the apartment and I pull into the drive-through to buy a Blizzard.
“Oreo fine?” I say.
“My favorite.”
We drive and I’m on autopilot, unaware of the road or the cars around me. My hand is on Ryann’s thigh. “I used to work at a Dairy Queen when I was in high school,” I say. She takes the spoon to my lips the way a mother would with her child and when necessary wipes my mouth with a napkin. We alternate spoonfuls, one for her and one for me, until the Blizzard’s gone.
I drive along Catalina Highway, rising as we go,until we arrive at a scenic lookout. I park. There is nobody else there. Springfield lies below, Mt. Lemmon behind. I help Ryann out by the hand and walk her to the edge where only a chest-high rail keeps us from falling. “We should have brought a camera,” I say.
“Look at the cars,” she says. “There’s a life in every one of them, each going her own way.” I’m hugging her from behind. She turns her head to me saying, “It sounds idiodically obvious, doesn’t it?”
“I know what you mean. From up here they’re just cars moving along. But inside there’s a mother on her way to pick up her daughter at dance class or an old man whose wife died yesterday.”
“It’s so weird. So impersonal. A bomb could fall in the middle of the city and from up here it would look hardly different than dropping a fire cracker over an ant colony.”
We’re up here for several hours, until the sky begins to turn orange and pink along the horizon. I’m still impressed by the breadth of Ryann’s conversation. It’s hard to believe she’s only been alive nineteen years. Now several cars pull in and it’s time to go. “Next time we’re bringing a camera,” I say.
The view on the way down is much better as the the city is framed by desert and darkening sky. Points of different-colored lights begin to fill out the landscape. As is beginning to be customary, my hand is on Ryann’s leg, above her knee. We are both silent. It’s very pleasant. The evenings here this time of year are the best anywhere.
“You said you’d take me to your place,” she breaks the silence.
“Are you sure you want to go?”
“I’m sure.”
We are here. First I fumble with the keys and then with the light switch—not being familiar with the place yet. “It’s an in-between place,” I say. I’m thirsty and think of offering her something to drink, but realize the refridgerator is empty. I fall back first onto the mattress. “Make yourself at home.” She sits beside me. “No television. No stereo. It’s perfect here. Nothing to distract us.” Now she’s lying beside me. I turn onto my side and rest my hand on her belly, my thumb touching the bottom of her bra.
“I like your bed.” I sense no sign of sarcasm.
“It’s just a mattress.”
“I like it.”
My phone is vibrating in my pocket. I reach for it. It’s Nanda. I let it go to voicemail.
“Aren’t you going to answer?”
“No.”
My hand is on her neck, fingers trailing up to her jaw line then guiding her face toward me. We are kissing. I close my eyes and for that moment, only her lips exist. I’m on my back again. This time, her hand is on my chest. “What are you thinking?” she says.
“Nothing.” I caress her hand. “This is perfect.”
My eyes are closed. I feel her hand moving away from mine, up toward my neck, then resting lightly on my face. A finger strokes my lips. When I open my eyes she’s looking at me. She kisses me. Time stops. Clothes scatter around us. We are naked. I kiss her body, her breasts, her pussy. She’s under me and I am inside her. Her nails dig into me. Bodies shift, bending, lifting. An orgasm. A shudder. She lies on me, weak like a fallen leaf. More kisses. I’m still inside her. She has regained her strength. Another orgasm. I lie erect before her. She takes my wet dick into her mouth, her face hidden behind a curtain of hair. I brush her hair to the side with my fingers. Her tongue and lips and hands are a ballet recital, long fluid movements. My body tightens. I feel myself losing control. I explode, spasms of semen bursting into her mouth. I’m spent. I sit up, resting on trembly arms, and go to kiss her. She turns her face. I put a finger under her chin and turn her toward me. We kiss, a saltwater kiss, and semen spills onto our bodies.
We lie naked on the mattress talking about childhood and siblings and road trips. The hours pass.
It’s late. We are driving to her place. “I love your mattress,” she tells me. I drop her off and check my voicemail on my way home. I have two messages; I guess I didn’t hear the phone the second time (or it could have been the second call I heard and missed the first). They are both from Nanda. The first: “Babe, I’m flying in tonight. Plane arrives at ten. American Airlines from San Francisco. See you tonight.” The second message: “My plane just landed and I can’t reach you. I’m taking a taxi home. See you soon.”
The streets are empty. Blurry lights float past above me. Nanda is waiting for me at home.
I leave Ryann’s and I’m not sure what to do. Nanda is waiting for me, wondering where I am. I don’t want to go home and would rather sleep on the couch at Nick’s where there’s food and company than at the studio. I park next to Nick’s car and call his cellphone. I’m sent to voicemail and hang up. I get down and knock. There’s no answer. I knock again, still nothing. I start walking back to the car and I’m about twenty feet out when I see the light go on. The door opens. Nick is topless, wearing unbuttoned jeans.
“Brohib,” he says.
“Bra, I just called you. You didn’t pick up.”
“I’m with a girl.”
“Look at you. You’re picking up this shit.”
“I have a good teacher.”
“Well, I’ll go. Have fun.”
“Cool.” The door shuts almost all the way and then reopens. “Nanda called looking for you earlier.”
“What’d you say?”
“That I hadn’t seen you and didn’t know where you were.”
“You still haven’t seen me.”
“Right on.” He started to close the door again and stopped. “You need to spend the night?”
“I’m cool.”
“Sure? You got the couch.”
“No worries.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow. Get back to your lady.”
So the studio it is. I’m hungry and stop by a Jack-in-the-Box. My phone rings. It’s Nanda again. I don’t answer and wait for her message. “Keith, this is not like you. I’m worried. Call me.”
I’m at the apartment sitting on the recliner eating my burgers. I forgot to ask for mustard and, of course, there isn’t any here. Even without mustard, the hamburgers taste good. I finish eating and put the wrappers in the bag and toss the bag beside the mattress. I undress, remembering having been naked with Ryann not long ago. On the kitchen counter are a row of books and I pick out one of the chess books. I lie down and try to read, but I can’t. I put the book aside and get up to turn off the light. I lie down again and find it annoying that the blinds don’t block out all the light. I get up again and hang one of the sheets on the window to block out as much light as I can. I have to mess with it for a while, but finally the room is dark. I’m lying I the same side of the bed I was on when Ryann was here. Her pillow still smells like her hair. I’ve cheated on Nanda. Now what? Now, I’m falling for Ryann, I’m going out with three or more new girls a week, I’m teaching Nick to become a player, and I’m having sex with unattractive women out of the goodness of my heart. I thought this would give me closure and help me to move on and love Nanda the way she deserves to be loved, but all it’s done is made want more and more women. I think about dropping everything and going back to the way things were, just Nanda and me. But I can’t.
I set my alarm for eight in the morning and fall asleep.
In the morning, I wake up to the sound of a rooster crowing to dance music. I reach for my cell phone under my pillow and turn it off. I consider going back to sleep but remember that Nanda hasn’t heard from me, so I get dressed and am out the door. I drive off and dial Nanda. She’s cold on the phone.
“I’ve been calling you.”
“I left my phone in the car.”
“Where have you been?”
“I didn’t know you were coming in.”
“I left you several messages.”
“I just got them. I was playing chess and it got late and Blake said I should sleep at his place, so I did. He’s one of the new Thursday-night guys at Barnes and Noble.”
“I was worried.”
“I forgot all about the phone until I woke up and that’s when I got your messages in the car. I’m on my way home.”
When I get home, I’m surprised that Nanda’s made breakfast for us. She’s normally at the office by now. “I was worried about you,” she says, “and I called in late.” We sit, eating breakfast. She tells me of her last few days out of town and the problems the firm is having.”
“How bad are things?” I say.
“We’ll figure things out. There’s always going to be problems. It’s part of the business.”
We finish breakfast just before ten.
“I’m glad you waited for me,” I say.
“I was worried.” She takes her car keys out from one of the kitchen drawers. I hug her as she turns toward me. I feel the same way every time she’s out of town and I can’t reach her. She knows what that’s like now, and for some reason that makes me feel good.
I walk her to the door and watch her drive away.
Chapter 19
