Chapter 30/Page 11

“So, this is the brother I’ve heard so much about,” I said, shaking his hand. I kissed 4 and whispered, “I missed you.”

“Glad to finally meet you,” the Brother said. “I was beginning to wonder if my sis was a lezbo.”

“Shut up!” she punched his arm. I must have looked awfully confused.

“She never mentions guys,” he elaborated. “After a while, you start to wonder.”

I’m sure I gave 4 a curious look. She shook her head and said, “Don’t listen to him.” Brother started looking around my apartment and noticed one of my records.

“You’ve got the original on vinyl,” he said, referring to a song that had recently been covered by a god-awful band. 4 and I had argued the merits of the cover versus the original, but to me there was no contest.

“May I?” Brother pulled the disc carefully out of the sleeve.

“Be my guest.” I fired up the turntable. The far superior version of the song came roaring out of my speakers. Brother rocked out. I raised my eyebrows knowingly at 4.

“Okay,” she conceded, “so maybe this version is a little better than the other one.” There she went, coming into her own a little more. That made me so happy.

“That piece of shit that’s out now?” Brother asked. “That fucking sucks. This version rocks!”

“I like him,” I told 4 and put my arm around her waist.

At dinner that night, Brother and I made small talk while 4 went to the ladies room. It was mostly about her.

“You two don’t speak very often?”

“No. We talk all the time.”

“I misunderstood. I got the impression you didn’t know what was going on with her.”

“She just never talks about guys,” he explained.

“Really?”

“You’re the first one she’s mentioned since, I don’t know, college?”

That was curious. One more layer revealed -- a mysterious one.

“Did she happen to mention a fight I got into a couple weeks ago?”

“Oh, yes.” The way he drew out the words didn’t sound promising.

“She was pretty upset with me about that.”

“No, man. She was pretty impressed with you.” 4 returned before I could get any more information out of him.

The Brother left the next day. That night, she and I cuddled on her couch in front of the television.

“Tell me it’s really over,” I said. “Tell me we’re finally alone.” She curled up closer to me.

“It’s nice to have some peace and quiet.”

“I know. I’m fucking exhausted. Work has been beating the shit out of me.”

“You and I should go to Mexico. It was wonderful.”

“When do you want to go?”

“We should go while it’s still warm.”

“Let’s go next weekend.”

“Can you?”

“It’s now or never.”

I gave her my credit card and let her make the arrangements. She booked us a room at the Rosarito Beach Hotel, in the old Spanish building, not the new crappy wing. A few days before the trip, the Balls were feeling particularly Ballsy so I took her shopping for a New Bathing Suit -- potentially the most hazardous minefield on the planet and definitely not for the meek.

“What do you think?” Standing before me in the tiniest smattering of fabric, she showed absolutely no apprehension about the condition of her thighs, her ass, or her abs. Come to think of it, the only body part she had ever commented on was her breasts, which she felt were small, compared to her best friend’s (a girl I’d yet to meet). Even then, she wasn’t self-conscious about it. Every suit looked better than the last, and she started at fabulous. The choice was not which suit hid the most flaws, just which one put the biggest smile on my face. Go ahead, girls. Say it out loud -- “bitch.”

The drive to San Diego took forever in the weekend traffic. We’d reserved a rental car to take across the border, leaving her snazzy new car parked safely in a garage in the States. The rental company of course didn’t have the car we reserved, but had a wonderful luxury model that was only five upgrade levels more money.

We checked into the hotel at midnight and had one badly needed margarita in the bar. Once the drinks had produced the desired results, we took a romantic stroll under the stars to our room. Just like Big Bear, we had hardly closed the door behind us when the clothes started hitting the floor.

We spent the next day on the beach. The sun was bearing down, but the breeze off the ocean eased the heat. The sound of the waves hitting the beach was deafening, but distant. I took a sip of my drink with my right hand and tugged at 4’s fingers with my left. She was lying face down with her bikini top undone to prevent a tan line across her back. Her skin glistened from the lotion I had applied earlier. I let my eyes take a leisurely tour of the real estate: her back, a long and flat lowland, met by the foothills of her petite bottom, and then her legs, extending out like two sexy tributaries running parallel far into the horizon.

“Are you happy,” I asked her. She glanced over the top of her sunglasses and smiled.

“Deliriously,” she whispered.

“Wow,” I remarked at the déjà vu.

“What?”

“That’s the exact word I would use.” I leaned over and kissed her.

“Now I’m even happier,” she said.

That evening we drove down toward Ensenada to a restaurant overlooking the ocean. The host showed us to a table that sat four and pulled out two chairs side by side. We sat holding hands and watched the sun drop into the water.

“This is kind of romantic, isn’t it?” she said. I kissed her in agreement.

After dinner, we returned to the hotel for one more margarita at the open-air bar. She sparkled in the candlelight. I was so in love, I could barely stay contained in my own skin.

“What did your brother mean?”

“When?”

“When he said that you never talk to your family about anyone you date.” She took a sip of her drink without responding. I pressed on, “Any reason?”

“There’s never been any reason to talk about it. Usually, by the time I’d want to tell my family about someone, it’s over.” She seemed a little uncomfortable with the subject, so I let it drop. She continued on her own, “It’s just easier not to bring it up at all. I mean, if you’re only going to see someone for a little while.”

“Like three months?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what next Thursday is?” I asked her. She shook her head.

“No. What?”

“Our four month anniversary,” I said, containing my pride. She obviously hadn’t been watching the calendar.

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” she purred.

“Are you having fun?”

“I’d have more fun if you took me up to our room right now.”

I opened the window and let the warm air breeze in and around us. We made love once more to the gentle strains of the water coming onshore. She fell asleep quickly. My new insomnia popped in for a visit as I lay there listening to the muffled dance music drifting up from the hotel disco. I stared at 4 and gently caressed her back, pondering my good fortune. How lucky I was: Just four months ago, I was in abject misery, certain my life was over. I had convinced myself I would never find love again -- not the passionate, terminal kind of love I craved. Yet here it was, lying right next to me. I was helplessly, hopelessly in love and once again, so deliriously happy. I let my new love sleep and took a short walk on the balcony outside our room. Staring into the night sky, I prayed these good times would never end.

Somewhere around the nuclear reactors at San Onofre, just above San Diego, the ice from the margaritas hit me. The Stomach twisted into knots and I doubled over in pain as much as I could in the bucket seat. 4 drove as fast as she could, but the Sunday traffic going north was just as bad as it had been southbound on Friday. It took forever to get back to L.A. When she finally pulled into my driveway, I thought I would die.

“Let’s get you in,” she said and helped me up the path to my door. Once inside, I fell onto the couch and curled up like a baby.

“I feel like shit.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Why did I have to be hit with a dilemma at that moment? Wasn’t I suffering enough? Of course, I wanted her to stay. I wanted her to stay and rub my head and tell me she loved me and I was going to be all right. But I also realized that I hadn’t made past the three-month mark just to botch it up now. I was not going to get clingy over a goddamn stomachache.

“No, that’s okay,” I lied. “You probably want to get to your own place and check on the cats.”

“It’s all right. The cats will be fine one more night.”

Please stay, please stay, please stay, please stay.

“I’m not going to be any good tonight,” I said. “I’m going to take something and pass out. You go on.” There, I did it. I beat my need of comfort for the greater good of my love. She sighed and kissed my forehead.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course.” She kissed me one more time and slipped out the door.

< Go Back

Turn The Page >