Southern Exposure
I ordered a second Zima as Ray gave me yet another funny look. I know as well as he does that Huey invited me to Louie's bachelor party as a joke, but I wasn't about to let them think I was afraid.
So I sipped on my drink as I gave Ray a sideways glance, then watched the new dancer, Amethyst, move onto the stage.
God, she was beautiful - the guys taunting her for having smaller breasts, braided hair, and a less vacant expression. They have no taste in women.
So I watched her dancing in fluid movement like a snake slithering through velvet. I hadn't seen moves as boneless or beautiful as hers since my last date when I went to the Mediterranean restaurant with skilled belly dancers.
Her clothes started to come off, only without the lame, predictable teasing. The tattoo on her chest caught my attention at the moment I apparently caught hers. When I looked back into her eyes, I found her staring into mine.
I didn't let the gaze go as she revealed a black velvet thong. She turned away, seeming to give the other patrons attention, but I could tell she was actually giving me a chance to take in her toned ass and the gentle flow of muscles and spine in her back.
She grabbed the pole and threw herself back, seeing me upside down as I let the tip of my tongue linger after a sip; as I let it dangle innocently into the tip of the bottle and looked at her through my eyelashes.
She gave a coy grin, humped the pole, then flung her body up, looking back at me over her shoulder.
When I heard the waitress come over to tell Huey that the private room was finally ready, I set down my Zima and wrote my phone number on a napkin. I made sure she watched as I slipped a ten dollar bill under the napkin and the bottle on top of it, well away from where it might smear my writing.
Ray smacked my arm with the back of his hand. "Our private party is finally ready so..." He paused as I just looked at him, not letting anything show with my expression.
"So?"
"So, joke's over, Elaine. The rest of the night is definitely guys only."
I gave him a sly grin, then gave her a wink before pulling on my jacket and leaving.
***
After leaving the club and the boys to their childish antics, I headed to my favourite bar. A few drinks and some mindless dancing later, I returned home only to be ripped from a fabulous dream at an early hour. I wasn't going to answer it, knowing full well it would be one of those lazy detectives with one of their sweet talking "I know it's your day off, but could you...?" favours.
Still, something drew me from the bed and as I reached out into the cold, I took the small cordless quickly in my hand and brought it back under the warmth of the comforter. "Hello," I said, twitching the corner of my lip when I heard myself croaking.
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
I furrowed my brow. The voice was feminine, yet smooth and rich. I tried to tack the sound in my head to one of the other civilian aides and a couple old girlfriends before I cleared my throat. "Hello?"
"Oh," the voice said, sounding a bit tired and out of it herself. "My name's Plush. I work at Southern X. Amethyst?" she clarified.
I blinked, taking it in. She'd actually called? I'd actually left my number? It hadn't been a dream? I smiled and tugged the corner of the blanket around my arm to keep even the tiniest drafts out. "Yeah, I remember you." She was quiet in response and I realized then that the ball was still in my court. Trying to pull myself from the slumbering stupor enough to be coherent, I shifted. "I thought maybe you'd want me to buy you lunch."
Funny. I could almost swear I heard a smile crack her expression through the phone. I felt oddly smitten and I didn't even know her. "I'd like that," she finally said, "but not today. I haven't been to bed yet."
'I'd like to take care of that, too. Stop that, Elaine. You're jumping the gun.' "Dinner?"
"I have to work again tonight."
I furrowed my brow. "I'm off tomorrow too."
"Tomorrow for lunch, maybe? I'd like that."
Finally, a break. "Around one?"
"I was thinking more like four in the afternoon. I'll be out late and…"
"No, no. Four is fine. You want to" I paused, not sure what to offer for a location. "meet somewhere?"
"Yeah. There's a Greek place on the corner of 6th and Vine. It's near my place so it would be convenient. For me. If it's convenient for you."
I chuckled slightly. Something in the way she offered it was sweet. "Ok. I can make that." I waited. Finally she offered a quick "ok" and then we hung up. I closed my eyes, wanting to return to my dream, then remembering it wasn't a dream. It was a memory of what was real and there was already more to it. Too excited to relax again, I got up, showered, dressed, and started my day.
***
And that's how it started. It wasn't quite a week later when we were coming out of an art gallery and I offered to buy her one of those big pretzels from a stand. We were eating them on a park bench and talking about art when I started to feel her invitation.
Plush is an artist. She found out that stripping a few nights a week paid the bills on a little studio and she could spend the rest of her time working on her art. Mostly we went to art galleries and that kind of thing for our dates because she said it was like someone telling an aspiring writer that the best thing to do is read a lot of books. I liked it, anyway, because it gave us more time to learn about each other than sitting in a movie theater and a lot more interesting things to talk about than what you talk about over a quick meal here or there.
She thought my job was fascinating. I thought that was hilarious. It's anything but fascinating, I assured her. I do more filing and researching than actual police interaction which is why I am working on becoming a real cop now.
Then we sat on the bench and I was just eating my salty pretzel while she ate her parmesan one and something inside me told me it was time to make some sort of move. The only problem was that the last time I made a move, I ended up in a relationship that turned sour two days before I saw Plush in the club. I'd been following the instinct to give her my number and ask her out and every instinct since then, but suddenly this one stopped me short. I couldn't make myself do it because in one moment the relationship with Martina - the one that lasted more than a year - flashed before my eyes.
Because it wasn't a mutual decision, nor was it one that happened all at once. I'd been happy at first and stupidly happy for quite a while, but slowly - oh so slowly - I started feeling less content; less like she cared about me and before long, I knew something was on the horizon. I felt it tearing under the skin, but I also needed to ignore it.
So there it was. It was the elephant in the room that I didn't want to acknowledge because if I did, it would be over and it would hurt like hell.
And it did hurt like hell when Martina acknowledged it for me. My heart broke into a thousand scattered pieces. I didn't want to pick them up. I guess that's why when the boys teased me that I needed a stripper to cheer me up, I went to that stupid bachelor party and played along with the games. Being around men whooping it up does wonders for a woman like me who just wants to forget.
I didn't expect Amethyst to catch my eye - or for Plush to catch my heart - but she did and now, all at once, I feel the old pain coming back and all I want to do is protect myself.
Plush stared at me until I finally looked up again. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
I shook my head and took a bite of my pretzel. "No. I'm just cold," I said softly. "Thanks for the gallery. Maybe I should go home now, though."
Plush cocked her head. "Want me to come with you?"
I looked at her again and saw Martina in her eyes. I saw the possibility of something beautiful that would become something sour and Plush would know it before I would because all I want is to be happy. I looked away so she wouldn't see the tears that were about to well up in my eyes. Clearing my throat, I kicked at a pebble. "No. I have to work tomorrow and I shouldn't be out this late and…"
Plush chuckled. "Out this late? Suddenly you have a pre-twilight curfew?" She paused, then put her hand on my shoulder. "Sounds like you're a kid, huh?" she said, her voice gentle as if she understood something was wrong, but wanted to joke the pain away.
I swallowed hard and managed to gather myself before I could get carried away. Offering her a half smile, I looked back into her eyes, blue like ice crystals. "It's just been a long week and I'm tired, you know?"
Plush looked at me as though she knew exactly what I was thinking. "Yeah, I know," she said. Her hand was still on my shoulder and as she moved the other hand holding her pretzel away from her body, she leaned close to me. She let her lips meet mine and press slightly - just enough for it to be an intimate kiss without it being an intrusion. Plush pulled back, moving her hand to place it on my thigh. The gesture was comforting. "Next time the pretzels are on me, ok, Elaine?"
I nodded as she stood. Keeping her eyes on me the entire way up, she tossed the last half of her pretzel into a nearby trash can and zipped her denim coat with lamb trim to the neck. I still sat on the bench, but I was together enough to smile at her and squint as the sun set behind her head. She moved close again and put her hand softly under my chin, holding it there so she could see into my eyes - past them maybe, into my soul. "I'll go easy on you," she said simply.
I blinked back tears at that. I was right in thinking she'd seen so far in. How else could she know I needed someone to take it easy? Feeling like a blank canvas and wishing there was more mystery to me, I enjoyed her smooth fingers as they slid from under my chin, then I watched her body almost slither in her distinctive walk as she walked away.
***
The next day, I was feeling much less nostalgic, less upset about the things that could have been, but weren't. I didn't think much about how things had gone the night before with Plush. Ray commented that I seemed distant, but the truth was I just threw myself into my job so I wouldn't have to analyze my insecurities once again.
On the drive home, I got to thinking about my personal life again, though. I half expected there to be a message from Plush. She usually called to make arrangements for our next get together if we hadn't made them before. When I walked inside and dropped the keys, I saw the little green light flashing. Letting out a breath, I thought the sound of her voice might be refreshing. I wanted this to work. I wanted to get over myself, over Martina, over everything and move on. I pressed the playback button and the machine told me I had one message. Ah, Plush, you may not be predictable to most people, but I love being able to predict that you actually want me, as nuts as that might be. As the machine spoke, I moved to the couch and started untying my boots.
"Hey, it's me," came the voice, harsh and snapped. I swallowed and scrambled to stop the machine. Martina's demand was too quick, however. "I want my coffee grinder back."
I furrowed my brow and stared at the machine as it clicked loudly with her no fanfare hang-up, then beeped to indicate the end of the message. Coffee grinder? I still have it? Angry, now, that she'd called me for a $15 dollar piece of equipment and demanded it so rudely, I threw my boot across the room. It smacked the wall and I stood, running my hands through my hair, then grabbing it in frustration. A coffee grinder? She'd been so angry with me that she accused me of trying to steal candle holders. That's right. Two green glass candlesticks I bought for myself, but she liked them and accused me of trying to steal them so I let her walk out the door with them. She who, when I asked what was wrong with our relationship, said I was for shit in bed. She who made me wonder if all our relationship had been about was sex and not the emotions I felt. She who left me feeling inadequate in every way wanted her damned coffee grinder?
I started to shake, feeling the trembling internally as I sat on the couch and stared at the boot across the room. My head was dizzy, reeling, but I took in a few breaths and began to calm down. A few moments later, I was finally able to take deep breaths and as I did, I looked back at everything. Coffee grinder? "Make me fucking care," I grumbled as I stood and went into the bedroom. I knew I should be looking for the grinder, finding a box, mailing it to her obnoxious ass, but instead I went to the closet. The thoughts ran through my mind fast as I fingered through it all. That fucking vest she told me was hot? Piece of shit. I threw it on the floor, following it with the skirt she bought me and the slacks I loved, but she paid for them with her dirty coffee money. I knew I could have been much more constructive. It was there in my head telling me not to let her get to me, but I picked up the pile I'd made and took it to the couch. Throwing it down, I grabbed the calendar she bought me and the champagne glasses I got to celebrate her promotion. With scissors, I began to cut and chop, throwing them onto the glasses to break them. I put everything in a box, closed it, sealed it, and wrote her name and the new address she was having her mail forwarded to on it. Somewhere near the end, I began to calm down. Throwing the box onto the coffee table, I sat back on the couch, used it to prop my legs, and turned on the television. I wanted so badly to find incentive to be the bigger person and just send the grinder, or take it to her place without question, but I'd lost all desire to care.
The phone rang and I chose not to answer it. If it was Martina again, I wanted to tell her to make me care, but I knew I wouldn't have the guts so I let it ring. When the machine picked up, I heard my voice requesting the caller leave their name and number. It beeped and the instant of silence seemed an eternity, but finally the voice broke in. "I kind of thought you'd be home," Plush began. "Um, I have this idea I wanted to talk to you about…" by then I'd made it to the phone.
"Sorry. I just walked in the door."
"Oh, good," she said, sounding genuinely glad to hear my voice. "Look, I'll get right to it. I just got this pamphlet about Danse Orientale," she said with flare. "Belly Dancing," she then clarified. "Wanna take some classes with me?"
I blinked. "Belly Dancing?"
"Yeah," she said, quickly and with excitement.
"With you?"
"Uh huh."
I paused, considering this. "I'm not an exotic dancer. I have no coordination," I explained.
"Oh come on. It'll be fun. Something we can do together." She paused, but when she heard I wasn't jumping on board, she sighed. "Why don't you think about it, ok?"
"Sure," I responded.
"All right. Just," she paused and I could hear her hesitation. I knew whatever she said she wanted to phrase carefully so she wouldn't hurt me. I appreciated the gesture. "Make sure that if you say no, it's because you don't want to do it and not because you're afraid."
"I'm not afraid of dancing," I responded. "I just…"
"Not that. Afraid of me or us or whatever a ten week class commits us to, ok?"
I paused, taking in her words. "I have to go," I said suddenly, hanging up before I could stop myself. Now I wanted to say yes, just to prove to her that I wasn't afraid, but looking at Martina's box of trash, I knew that was a lie.
***
"Very good, Plush," the instructor said, but I could immediately see her eyes scanning me and trying to determine how to fix me. I had the moves, I just didn't do them well and as she stared at me perplexed, Plush chuckled. Moving around behind me, Plush put her hands on my hips and guided the figure 8 movement more smoothly. "Just think round," she commented near my ear. "Isolate the hips from the rest of your body."
I smiled vaguely and concentrated. I felt Plush's hands resisting my movement. Finally she let out a breath. "Close your eyes." I did. "Now, stop thinking about it."
"Stop thinking?"
"Yeah, just stop thinking about what I'm doing and let my hands be the thing to guide you, not the music, not the picture of the 8 in your mind."
I obeyed. A moment later, I head the instructor give a grunt of satisfaction. Opening my eyes, I looked in the mirror and realize the feeling of Plush's hands on me was now just a phantom impression. I was doing it on my own. I grinned as the teacher watched a moment, then nodded. "Very good," she commented.
Even though I only got one movement down out of the four that had been instructed, I felt good about myself as I left class with Plush. She stopped at the attached boutique and fingered a pair of earrings. "I bet I could add a couple hundred bucks a night if I played this right."
Chuckling, I watched her. As we left together, her plastic bag with a recently purchased scarf in it crinkling between us. I stepped up to my car and she stepped up, placing herself between the car door and my key. "There's an exhibit opening tomorrow at the University gallery. They have an original Van Gogh on display and I'd really like to go. You'll come, right?"
"I... I don't know. I work tomorrow."
Plush smiled, not responding.
"After work, I guess I could…"
"They close at six."
"There's my lunch break. I'm not too far from the campus."
"Good," she said quickly, her hand moving to my hip, but not moving as I shifted. "I'll meet you in front." She looked into my eyes a moment and my heart skipped a beat. She was looking seductive, so I licked my lips, but all she did was press her finger against my pendant, pushing it into my collarbone, then let out a contented breath as she turned and crossed the parking lot to her own car.
Sitting in the driver's seat, I watched her pull onto the road and wave at me as her car drove past. Her smile was so lustful I panicked and started the ignition. Waiting a moment, I finally relaxed and drove home.
***
Plush sat on the black vinyl covered bench and crossed her legs. Her dusty blonde hair was mostly covered by the scarf she had purchased the night before, tied around her head. She stared at the painting. I walked around the division of the room and looked at the other paintings. "I don't know if I like him," she said softly.
Stopping, I turned to face her. "Van Gogh?"
"Yeah, but I admire what he was attempting to do."
I furrowed my brow. "What was he attempting to do?"
"Express the feelings behind an object, rather than the object itself, right? He's trying to make me feel about this night setting the way he felt about it, to feel the movement of wind or the way the lights feel. I get that. Emotion is such a huge part of art, and he does it well. I just don't," she paused and met my surprised gaze. "I don't care for it personally."
I tucked a bit of my black hair behind my ear and watched her a moment. "What do you attempt to do in your art?" I asked, having not actually seen any of it yet.
She stood. "Do you want to know?"
"Yeah," I responded, adding a nonchalant shrug. Plush grabbed my hand and while I tugged back for an instant, that's all I did. She held tight and walked out of the room. "Where are we going?"
"I'm going to show you," she said.
"No, I just asked..."
"I know, but it's easier to tell you when you're looking at it," she said, looking over her shoulder to grin at me as she continued on her way.
"I've got to get back to work," I argued.
She smiled freely. "You ever call in sick?" she asked.
"What does that..."
"Do you?"
"I don't get sick very often," I responded. "Healthy, I guess."
Plush chuckled and reached into her pocket. Thrusting a cell phone at me, she waited until I took it. "Today's the day."
"I can't. They need me."
"No one else can do it?"
"It's just faster if I do it myself," I explained.
"So things slow down at the station a little for one afternoon. Not a whole day, baby. Just a few hours."
I looked at the phone, contemplating. Her hand still grasped mine and I didn't want her to let go. She looked me in the eye as I made my decision.
***
She was right about it being easier to see them first. She was a combination of perfect artistic talent and emotionally reactive expression. Everything she did had a specific style, but each thing was different, made me feel different, looked different. Some parts were renderings of something I could easily identify, something like the medieval paintings she'd shown me. It was then mixed and blended like a painted collage with abstract shapes, images, and the colours which all told me what she felt at the time she painted each one.
I was either overwhelmed by her talent, or completely in love, but I couldn't bring myself to analyze which, so I let her tell me about each one. She liked to be eclectic, to give you something you could understand and then take away the beauty with another brush stroke.
Leaving me to look over the works she had propped up, she disappeared behind the bed and came out bearing a large sketch pad. "I want to show you something," she said, moving beside me and letting her arm brush mine.
She flipped open the first page to a pencil sketch of a tiger, stuck behind a cage and looking ready to attack. I glanced at her. "Plush," I said.
She stopped mid-flip to the next page and faced me.
"Is this cleansing?"
"Cleansing?" she asked, then nodded. "Yeah, sometimes. It's my outlet, I suppose. Sometimes I feel like it's as natural as the air I breathe, this way of expressing myself."
I glanced down, then back at her. "But if something upsets you, angers you and you paint it, does it go away?"
She closed the notebook and let the arm holding it drop to her side. With her other hand, she reached up and placed it on my cheek. "Yeah, sometimes. Not right away, but it helps me to... let go," she said.
I glanced across at the picture that had made me ask: an angry one done in black, reds, and greys. The reds were dark and brutal and on this rare occasion, the beauty of it - a yellow bird - was nearly completely obscured by the slashes of paint.
"Do you think someone who isn't an artist could let go the same way?" I asked, suddenly imagining the box of shredded things and the look in Plush's eyes when she told me she'd go easy on me.
She stared into my eyes, her hand still on my face a moment longer. Without answering, she finally moved both her hands together onto the notebook again. Flipping past the tiger, she opened to the next page and held the first pages behind the book. "That's you," she said as she turned it to face me.
Furrowing my brow, I saw sad eyes, blue-green streaks, and in the corner was a lipstick kiss. I was sure it was Plush's, but was still surprised because she never wore any. She glanced at it again, then at me. "That's the night I saw you," she explained.
"But I wasn't sad," I remarked, remembering the drinks, the bachelor jokes, the humor of me at a strip club when the guys at work had no clue.
She tilted her head. "Yeah, I saw you laughing, but your eyes were sad," she responded firmly.
I let out a breath. I could feel her watching me and wondered if she was waiting for me to tell her why I was so sad. When she tossed the notebook onto the bed and rested her hand on my jaw line, I still couldn't meet her gaze. I didn't want to tell her that I was sad because I felt I'd been so good at making mistakes and I didn't want to tell her I was afraid of getting into something new because I might make the mistakes again. I imagined she was thinking I shouldn't blame her for things Martina had done, that I shouldn't let those things effect our new relationship. I was sure to the outside world it seemed like I was angry at Martina and didn't want to repeat that mistake.
But it wasn't other women I didn't trust, it was myself. I was the one who knew things were wrong, but wouldn't acknowledge it. I was the one who let myself get hurt again. When it all started to go bad, Martina pointed out the ways we weren't getting along, the things she wanted different. I asked her then if what she wanted was to end this thing between us. She had quickly pointed out that she had no place to go and I realized then that she wasn't sticking around because she wanted to work things out.
So I told her not to use me for my apartment and to get out. She accepted that and did and I was glad to know where I stood. Then I wondered how long she'd been using me for an apartment, for sex, for the things I had that she didn't. It was then I wondered if I could ever trust myself to take a chance on love again.
After a very long time, I finally looked Plush in the eyes. She opened her mouth and I expected her to say "I'm not her," but instead she said "I think we're worth taking chances." Before I could find an answer to that, she kissed me. Her lips fondled mine long and hard as her other hand gently wrapped around the side of my neck. I wanted to resist, but I knew she was right so instead I found myself wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close.
***
We lay in bed with the blanket pulled over us because, well, I thought I kept my apartment cold? Maybe it was the open space that made it feel colder. Then again, I'd never thought to ask what Plush could afford in the way of utilities, but when I started to shiver, Plush put her arm around me and curled up even closer against my back.
It was silent other than my slightly shaky breath as I stared at a sketch across the room leaned precariously next to a painting resembling it. Plush ran her fingertip around my nipple and spoke softly into my ear. "Tell me about her."
"Who?"
"The woman," she responded, her finger tracing down to my abdomen, then back up to the nipple.
"Nothing much to tell," I said solemnly. I heard Plush let out a big breath, but she just continued to play with my body. Finally I shrugged and twisted my head. "I just don't think it's worth mentioning."
"But it's worth tearing yourself up about?"
I paused, taking time to think about what I wanted to tell her. "It wasn't her. Martina was never the problem. I was just so determined not to get caught up in another relationship because I needed some time to myself, some time to figure myself out and learn to stand up for myself before I got involved with anyone else. I thought I'd be better off alone."
Plush kissed the back of my neck. "Yet you left your number," she observed, then chuckled.
I smiled and rolled over to face her. "Stupid, huh? It seems like as soon as you figure out what's right for you, something comes along to tell you you're wrong."
"Do you regret it?"
"Leaving my number?" I asked for the sake of clarity.
She shrugged. "Do you regret any of it?" she asked.
I thought about it a moment, then shook my head. "Life is what happens while you're making other plans." She looked at me oddly and I chuckled. "Something my sister always used to say."
"You have a sister?"
I bit my lower lip, not wanting to spill darkness on our beautiful bed. "She died - a long time ago," I quickly amended so she would know I'd dealt with it.
"I'm sorry," she offered.
I nodded, simply accepting the statement with a smile. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet you, I suppose," I commented, trying to change the subject back.
"I'm glad you didn't," she said, then kissed my lips. I put my arm around her and kissed her back, then moved my lips down her chin and to her neck, tasting every inch of her as we made love again.
***
"Guess that day of rest did you some good," Huey commented as he leaned over my shoulder.
I nodded. "Yeah, I feel a lot better," I remarked.
"You look better," Ray added as he approached. "Now, no more calling in sick. This place just about fell apart without you."
Smirking, I clicked print to give Huey the information he'd requested. "When does Louie get back from his honeymoon?" I asked.
Huey and Ray both shrugged. "Been so quiet without him here, I don't know if I care," Ray added, nudging Huey. Taking his papers, Huey followed Ray back to his desk as they started their own conversation. Pulling up another window, I went back to work on the reports I'd been proofing before Huey came asking for the records.
The day passed slowly. I knew I'd see Plush again this evening. As I'd left the night before, we made plans for dinner. When the clock finally said five to five, I started backing up reports and getting ready to shut down my computer. The moment I did, my phone rang. Picking it up, I said "District 27, Besbriss's desk." It was a greeting I could spout off in my sleep - one I had used on my home phone a couple times, it felt so natural now.
"Elaine..." the familiar voice began.
"Don't call me at work," I snapped quickly.
"I tried leaving you a message about my coffee..."
"Make me care!" I snarled and hung up. Staring at the phone, a self satisfied grin came over my face and I felt it to my toes. I'd actually said it, forgetful of any hesitancy to do it. It started to ring again, but I picked it up, hung up, and shut off my computer.
"I'm going home," I announced to those around me. Gathering my bag, I headed from the station, ignoring my desk phone as it began to ring again.
I couldn't believe one simple sentence made me feel so liberated, that such a silly thing could be such a big step for someone, but it was for me. As soon as I walked into my apartment, I ripped the tape off Martina's box and walked the tape to the kitchen garbage. Sifting through the junk drawer, I took out the scrunched tube of super glue and began to work. I'm sure to the outside I looked like the Tasmanian Devil, moving and spinning without much thought or consideration, but the entire time I was thinking about me. As I gained some clarity and insight, I was learning about myself.
I suppose I should have wanted better closure than what I'd offered, but mostly I was just glad to have it over. Relieved. Happy that things with Martina had ended. I never had to look back and there was no reason to, was there? I ignored the ringing phone, messages, and the time until there was a knock at my door.
Opening it, I realized I'd accidentally superglued a piece of the suede pants to my arm. As I ripped it off, I growled, then looked up.
"Hi," Plush said, looking at me with concern, then into the room with confusion. "What's up?" she asked tentatively.
"A cleansing," I said, moving aside to let her in.
She examined the collage of scraps glued to my living room wall and nodded slowly. "Okay," she offered.
I chuckled. "It is. It's a cleansing. I'm… I'm saying goodbye, giving myself closure, and making a lovely display while I'm at it."
Plush looked at me and smiled. "Okay," she repeated, obviously clueless as to what else she could or should say. She approached the wall and looked at it closely. She was examining the layering, the sharp glass piercing some of the fabric pieces, the anger and brilliance of it all, I suppose.
As she did, I went to the kitchen. I tore through every cupboard I had. Coming up without a coffee grinder, I came back out.
"It's interesting," Plush said, looking at me as I came into the room.
"I want to go shopping."
She blinked. "I thought we were going to dinner."
Shrugging, I pulled on my jacket. "I need to go shopping first."
"Uh, okay," she responded.
We bought a new coffee grinder and I took it to Martina's new place. Plush asked me why on earth I would spend my own money on something for her. I said it was because I needed to show her I was better off and somehow this would do it. I left the two speed grinder on her doorstep and then went to dinner with Plush.
When we made love that night, nothing else in the world mattered. I was finally glad to be in this relationship, glad to be in a relationship where I was letting go of the past. I came into this one with eyes wide open and I intended to keep it that way, but at the same time, I knew my trusting nature might get me hurt. As we lay on the couch naked, I smiled at her. If I got hurt this time, it would just make me stronger. I kissed her lightly, then closed my eyes, comfortable to fall asleep in her arms.
The End