Part 18 (1/2)

In memory of Loren. b.a.s.t.a.r.d!

I can't believe he'd leave without saying good-bye.

One drink will not be enough.

Carl gives me a funny look but goes to the bar and returns with two frosty, mint-trimmed gla.s.ses. He takes a long swallow.

Oh my, that is good, but not for a novice drinker. Tell me who introduced you to this li'l libation. If it's a long story, so much the better.

He settles back into his chair.

I sip my julep, fight the sudden blitz of memory. The second swallow is bigger. The minty burn clears my throat, trickles down the esophagus, into my rumbling belly. A little voice warns, ”Could be trouble.”

I tell it to shut up, look at Carl to see if he might have heard it. Or at least intuited it.

He wears a patient smile. Oh, yes. He asked for the story.

I don't want to talk about Loren. But what the h.e.l.l?

I'm drinking in his honor.

”I actually had my first one of these right here, with my ...”

The word sticks in my craw.

A gulp of bourbon clears it, raises a nice, warm buzz.

Suddenly I want to talk, and before I know it, I have vomited the whole tale, going all the way back to Janet and how I l.u.s.ted after her football-player brother, forward past Mom and Dead Mother's Day, to Loren's promises.

Betrayal. Ultimate desertion.

Carl Listens Without comment, except a nod every now and again.

When I finally slow to a stop, he raises one finger, gets up and goes to the bar. He comes back with two more drinks and a bowl of snack mix.

Thought you could use both of these. He watches me dive into the pair before saying, One thing I've learned in one or two years on this planet is to put myself first. Love is a fine thing while it lasts, but rarely is it permanent.

We don't know each other at all, but if I might offer a word of advice, gleaned from many relations.h.i.+ps?

He waits for a response, and when I offer a nod, he says, In lieu of love, l.u.s.t will do nicely.

Now why don't I buy us dinner?

I start to say no, and he hurries to add, No strings attached.

Two Hours Four courses of French cuisine and two bottles of wine later, my stomach is churning with rich food, my head buzzing with alcohol.

Carl and I exit the restaurant and I look for my truck. Where did I leave the d.a.m.n thing?

”Uh, th-thanks s-sho much for a great evening. I have to go.

It's-sh a long drive home.”

Carl a.s.sesses my obvious condition. I can't let you behind the wheel like that.

You can stay the night at my place. No worries. It's clean.

”Uh ... I d-don't ...” The words blur. I can't drive like this.

”Okay.” It's a short walk to Carl's tenth-floor apartment.

Once inside, I call Dad, make up a lie about staying the night with some girl I met at a party.

He sounds relieved, but whether that's because he can tell I'm drunk or because of the ”girl,” I don't know.

That accomplished, I take a long look around. The place is beautifully decorated. Tall windows overlook the city.

Someday I'll live like this.

I have to pee. Again Carl reads my mind. The guest bathroom is right there. Oh, you'll find new toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet.

Sounds like a plan. Between garlic, shallots, whiskey, and wine, my mouth could use a good scrub. I take full advantage of the guest bathroom.

When I come out, smelling of mouthwash and expensive lavender soap, Carl is in red silk pajamas. He hands me a matching pair. Unless you sleep naked?

His message is clear, in his words and in his eyes. I have the choice- leather sofa or feather mattress.

I remember how he said, l.u.s.t will do, and follow him to his bed.

A Poem by Whitney Lang Follow Me That's what he said.

Follow me, and find the meaning of love in my bed.

I followed, found sheets cold as death. Neither of us could warm them, not me, not him.

Not a maelstrom of body heat so intense it felt like fever. After, we slept, chilled.

He tossed and turned, lost in some obnoxious dream. And when we woke, he ordered me away.

Whitney

So Basically

Life sucks even more than it did before. I mean, everything's the same on the Mom and Kyra front. Kyra went back to Va.s.sar, along with two suitcases stuffed with trendy new boutique clothes.

Mom went back to tennis and whatever else she does at her club.