20. Ryan
20
RYAN
I stood by the coffee maker buckling my pants back up, thinking of how incredible Carrie was. I'd almost slipped and told her I loved her while we were having sex, but I was glad I had the self-restraint to keep it in. When I told her for the first time, I wanted it to be special, and I didn't want her to connect it to sex. What I felt for her was so much more than just lust-driven desire. If she told me she never wanted to have sex with me again, it would be enough. Just being near her was enough.
The coffee maker hissed and dumped the hot brew into one mug, then a second. I added milk and sugar to hers and started back toward the living room when I heard the front door open and Helen's voice calling to someone.
My blood instantly ran cold, and I looked down at my clothes to make sure I was proper again, instantly panicking about whether Carrie had gotten dressed yet. And I noticed my black socks, not currently covered with my dress shoes, which I'd kicked off by the couch before punishing Carrie's body with three orgasms.
I was dead in the water.
Helen would take one look at me here with no shoes on, and her daughter practically strung out on oxytocin on the sofa with messy hair and lust-hooded eyes, and she'd know we were having an affair. Suddenly, my laissez-faire attitude about Walter eventually getting over the news didn't feel as comforting. My chest felt like someone clamped it in a vise, and I stood stock-still as Helen fumbled with the lock on the door. She stood with her back to me, her turquoise-green pea coat dusted with snow that was quickly melting, and my brain raced for an excuse as to why I was standing in her living room with coffee in my hand. I looked in the direction of the couch, but I didn't see Carrie there. Maybe she went upstairs to shower, or maybe she lay down on the couch. It would be easier to make an excuse if she was here to help me.
But time was up, and I had to deal with this on my own. Helen turned around slowly, eyes scanning across the living room. When she saw me she jumped, which made me feel startled too. She looked confused.
"Ryan, what are you doing here?" Then she looked out the front window. I'd parked on the street, but she probably hadn’t even paid attention.
"I, uh… Carrie," I said, fumbling for words. My heart was in my throat, pounding away, and I felt like a cooked goose on Christmas. My cheeks must've been redder than a firetruck.
"Well?" she asked, and she looked around the living room again. I swore I saw a fire brewing in her eyes, but both of us heard a retching sound at the same time.
I saw movement from the corner of my eye and noticed Carrie's dark, wavy hair as she sat up and almost fell off the couch. Both Helen and I moved toward her swiftly, and I set the mugs of coffee on the coffee table only to see a puddle of vomit next to the couch.
"Oh, dear," Helen mumbled. She set her things on the table and shed her coat faster than I could blink. "Ryan, get some towels… and a cup of water!" she blurted out, and while my heart ached to comfort Carrie, I knew Helen would only suspect more if I ignored her.
"Of course," I told her, and I rushed back into the kitchen.
I felt like a horrible human being for feeling relief as Carrie threw up. She was miserable, probably sick and feeling awful right now, and I was celebrating the fact that we hadn’t been caught. Even so, she could've passed those germs to me, and I would have to answer for that later on, but it gave me time to plan what I'd say to Walter and Helen.
I found a few hand towels, wet a dish rag, and pulled a cup out of the cupboard to fill with water. When I returned, Carrie was resting on her side looking up at me with fear in her eyes, and I set the water on the table. When I dropped to my knees with the towels, Helen snatched them from my hand.
"Oh, give those to me. I can do this." She immediately knelt on the floor, so I perched on the edge of the recliner and eyed my shoes behind Helen. She either hadn’t seen them or she didn't notice they were mine.
While she busied herself mopping up the vomit, Carrie and I exchanged nervous glances. She picked up my shoes and set them on the end table just out of sight, and I sighed again with relief. Carrie must've been feeling the heat of almost getting caught too because she looked like she'd seen a ghost. Her face was pale, lips trembling.
"Oh, Ryan, I just didn't realize Carrie was feeling ill. How good of you to sit with her until I got home." Helen didn't even look up at me as she worked, and her words only made my conscience heavy with guilt.
Walter would've seen right through this. He'd be lecturing us both on propriety and transparency. I'd be banned from seeing Carrie again and just maybe, he'd think her leaving town was a good idea now. Not to mention the firestorm of gossip that would spread.
"You can go on home now. No need to sit here and feel tired." Helen looked up at me and smiled, and I nodded at her.
"Carrie, I hope you feel better when you wake up. If you need anything, some Pepto or some Tums, let me know. I'd be happy to run to the pharmacy so your mom doesn't have to go out for you." I stood, still hoping Helen didn't see my bare feet, and Carrie nodded at me.
"Thank you," she said politely, too stiffly. It was like she felt so caught off guard, it'd put her into some trance where she put up a wall. The intimacy wasn't in her eyes. The passion we'd shared only a few minutes ago was washed away by fear, and right now, I was nothing more than her father's helpful best friend.
It stung a little, but I wasn't sure what to expect. It wasn't like we could just come out and confess what was happening. We hadn’t even discussed it thoroughly enough to know. How could we tell Helen?
"Right, then, I'll be off." I walked around the back of the couch and picked up my shoes, holding them behind my back as Helen stood with vomit-soaked towels and started toward the kitchen.
"Drive safe. The roads are a bit slick," she called, and I had the urge to say goodbye to Carrie, but she was doubled over, hugging her stomach.
I walked out the door with my head hanging, and I put my shoes on while standing on the front porch. If Helen had come home just ten minutes sooner, she'd have caught us in the act. I thought I felt confident enough to tell Walter about my feelings for Carrie, but that reaction my body had to Helen walking in just told me how stupid I was being.
Carrie had her whole life ahead of her, and she was just starting out. I was selfish and foolish to expect her to give up her entire career and marry a man my age. My God, did I love her, but love wasn't the only thing that made a relationship work.
As I slunk to my car with my shoulders drooping, I shivered a bit and realized I left my coat in the house. I couldn’t go back now, so hopefully, Carrie just hid it for me. But even if she did, I was torn now. I didn't know if continuing to pursue her was right or wrong. I didn't know if I was being selfish for wanting her to myself when she had so much to offer the world. I lived in a dumpy little town full of nosy people. Carrie was on a path to success elsewhere.
How could I ask her to stay here? How could I ask her to give that up and date an old man? Especially in this town, surrounded by these people and their stories and the way they loved to talk about anything they deemed socially unacceptable?
Was I just that far gone? She deserved better.