Читать книгу Ties That Blind - Zachary Klein - Страница 15

Either I misunderstood Boots’s ride, or she changed directions by the time we sat naked on her bed. Despite the humid night, a teal Egyptian cotton sheet loosely covered the lower half of our bodies. “I think the anger about Lou and Lauren has to do with your own pulling away,” Boots suggested.

“I don’t understand.”

“You weren’t even aware that Lou was dating.”

“He kept it secret,” I objected.

Boots placed her fingers on my shoulder. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time, but you didn’t notice because of us. Let’s face it, for the last year we’ve spent virtually all our free time together.” She took her hand from my shoulder and ran it past my forehead, pushing my thinning hair from my eyes.

“I’m not complaining,” Boots said smiling. “Believe me, I love it.”

I reached toward the table next to my side of the bed, clicked on the lamp, and rolled a joint while the twenty-first century fluorescent bulb slowly brightened. “What’s your point?” I asked.

Boots shrugged, “During the time we’ve grown closer, relationships between us and other people have changed. Like yours with Lou.”

“So I’m feeling guilty? Painting it over with stupid suspicions and anxiety?”

Boots ignored my defensiveness. “Not that linear, honey. But we’ve been spending all our time with each other and talking about living together.”

She might not be linear... “We talked about it for a second, five minutes ago. Twice, if you count the television.”

“What you’re saying just isn’t true. “We have been talking about living together, just indirectly.”

I fought the only way I knew. I ducked. “There’s a difference between tiptoe and stomp.”

“We do a lot of tiptoeing.”

“So now it’s time to trample?”

Boots hesitated. “No, I don’t want to trample anything. It scares the hell out of me when it doesn’t go good between us. I keep thinking we’ll slide back to where we used to be,” she said.

Boots didn’t want to stomp and, in my gut, I didn’t want to backslide. It had been a long struggle to get past the years, fears, fights, and reconciliations. I wasn’t an easy do.

I flicked off the lamp. “Maybe there’s something to what you say about me and Lou. Maybe I do feel lousy about my role in all these changes. I know it’s been rocky lately, but lately isn’t always and it’s certainly not forever. It’s true I screwed up last night, but think about the night before you went away. Did you feel any shell then?” To make certain she knew what I was talking about, I slipped my hand under the sheet.

“Some of my feelings have to do with the other night,” Boots answered as her hand found mine. “We ventured into something different than I’d ever experienced.” She saw me raise my eyebrows, relaxed, and playfully punched my shoulder. “Don’t leer, goddamn you. I don’t mean the sex. We went someplace special and I think it frightened me.”

The tension was seeping out of the air and I stroked her hair while lighting another smoke. But out of the air didn’t mean out of me; I felt a withdrawal calling. I eyed the joint but instead forced myself to speak.

“I liked where we went, but it probably frightened me too.” I admitted. “Right now I just have to get past this situation with Lou and Lauren.”

“What’s left?” she asked, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Tomorrow.”

“And that’s all?”

“Boy, I hope so. I haven’t seen anyone tailing her and don’t think I will.” But despite my certainty, I couldn’t completely wash the battered car from my mind. Maybe Lou wasn’t the only one catching Lauren’s paranoia.

Boots shook her head. “If Lauren is making this up she wouldn’t involve you. Why ask for trouble?”

“In with me helps her with Lou.”

“You’re incredibly cynical. I can’t imagine her creating all this just to get you involved. I have this uneasy feeling that something peculiar is happening. Doesn’t her car seem too coincidental?”

I didn’t want to tell her about my own unease; didn’t want to think about anything. “Freud said nothing is coincidence but he was wrong about a lot of things.” I nuzzled her neck slipping my body lower on the bed, ending our conversation.

No new ground, but we didn’t lose any. Our lovemaking felt full of the private, personal touches that come with comfortable familiarity. Sensuous and slow, I kissed my way out of nervous. Growing calm through the comfort of knowing what pleased. Taking time to turn the disquieting conversation into a small gray cloud well hidden behind the swell of desire, pleasure, and excitement.

Hidden ‘til morning, anyhow. Some of my wakeup bleak had to do with the clock. Early on a Sunday morning, alarms grated worse than usual. But I knew my annoyance was just icing on a fierce desire to be far from the romance I was witnessing between Lou and Lauren, away from my relationship with Boots. I’d lost too many loved ones to be easy with love.

I dressed quietly, hoping to leave a note. But before I made it out the door, Boots stirred and lifted a groggy head. “What time is it? Why are you dressed?”

I sat down on the edge of the bed. “Another day and night of tail-chasing.”

She grabbed the pillow and placed it over her head. “Don’t talk to me about chasing tail, Jacob.”

I leaned over, lifted the pillow, and kissed the back of her neck. “Not to worry, I’ll call you at work tomorrow.”

The pillow was gone in a flash. “What do you mean tomorrow? Why aren’t you coming back tonight?”

“I have a hot date with the interior of Manny’s sedan,” I lied.

“All night? You said there was no reason.”

I stood and finished gathering my things. “Most of the night,” I lied again. “I want to finish the job right.”

Boots rolled onto her back, pushing the sheet to the side of the bed. With breasts lying flat, the sleepy look, and the tiny black birthmark next to her right eye, she looked like a petulant teenager. “Isn’t there something I can do to slow you down?” Boots offered.

“Plenty, but don’t.”

“Okay, okay,” she said covering herself. “But lock the damn door. I’m going back to sleep.”

The ride to my apartment was a wrestle between relief and guilt. I had no intention of spending the night in any car, but the thought of more intimacy raised a sweat. I didn’t regret clearing space, just my inability to clear it honestly.

By the time I roused myself off the couch I’d already blown any possibility of picking up Lou and Lauren at the Hacienda. If I offed the shower I could catch them at the end of their pre-planned brunch. It was nip and tuck, but nip won. If it hadn’t, I’da been tucked on my tuchas all day long.

As it was, I got to the restaurant just in time to see Lou at the cash register. This time they drove through a number of small towns stopping along the way at different parks and ocean views. I hung in the distance though there were times when the Cherokee’s erratic town-hopping had me playing catch-up. When late in the afternoon they finally wound up at the Magnolia train station, I was exhausted.

This had to be one of my perverse days because there was no other reason to watch their farewell. Oblivious again to any passersby, their talk was punctuated with hugs and kisses. I knew the scene was supposed to leave me soft and mushy, but, but, but.

I should have scrammed when the train approached, but all I did was toss the binocs onto the back seat. Maybe I was trying to justify my lie to Boots, or maybe I was reluctant to return to the couch. Either way, I decided to see where Lauren went after Lou boarded the train.

A part of me hoped she would dash into another man’s arms.

Lauren didn’t dash anywhere. Instead, she drove slowly through the coastal towns as if reviewing her weekend. When she turned toward home I kept following, surprised to see her pull off onto Shore Road, park, and leave the Cherokee. I pulled the bulky sedan into a small rest area and watched Lauren hop a fence and stroll down a dirt path through the thick woods toward the ocean.

Maybe she was meeting someone. I waited a good three before following. I hung the binoculars around my neck, carefully hauled my aging body over the same fence, and followed the same path. At first I couldn’t find her. Then I saw a dark form crawling on the scabrous face of a steep cliff which dropped straight down to the raging ocean.

Once I recovered my breath and focused my view of the harsh, ragged rocks and crashing waves, I watched Lauren grapple her way to a narrow ridge that jutted over the roiling water. When I aimed the glasses she was sitting on the ledge, her light windbreaker pulled tight against the ocean’s splatter. As if on cue she turned her head and stared in my direction. I was too well hidden to be seen but I stepped deeper into the woods anyway. The next I looked, Lauren had turned east, knees up, chin on hand, staring into the darkening horizon.

The two of us held our positions for about twenty minutes before Lauren headed back toward her car. At the same moment my neck hairs prickled and I suddenly felt watched. I quickly scoured the cliffs then retreated into the woods, gun drawn, tense and ready for a confrontation. I quietly pushed my way through a number of bushes until I wound up at a small, protected clearing with trampled sticks and grass. Right in the middle of the area it looked as if someone had rolled a rotted tree trunk to use as a seat.