9. To Feel
nine
At the center, Travis and I were facilitating an improvisation class for high school kids. During the break, I checked my phone to find that my mom had tried to reach me. Calling back, I stepped out into the natural light so she would see me better.
“Bonjour beauté!” she giggled as she always did when we kicked off a call. “You look fabulous. ?a va?”
“Bien, et toi?”
“Parfaite. No rain, no?”
“Not today.” I forced a giggle. “How’s papa?”
“Super. You sure tu est bien?”
“Oui, pourquoi?”
“Your smile?” She looked at me through the screen as if in reality. “Allez, you know you can tell me.”
Hesitating, I smacked my lips and looked downward before looking back up. “This guy.” I shrugged.
She laughed louder than she should have while drawing out, “Bien s?r.”
“Maman!”
“Look.” She grazed her lips with her thumb, then pinched them slightly as if to stall. “You got your writing from me, no? But this… this… bohémien way with men? It’s all your papa.”
“Ew?”
“You understand.” Her eyes spoke more than her words. “You believe he came to Paris for studies? Bien s?r, but not only. He liked—no, he loved—women.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she clasped her hands together in an exaggerated manner. “Tall, short, dark, white—”
“I get it!” I interrupted her. “But I don’t love this one.”
“Yet?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not, chérie?”
“Because what if he’s not the one? What if I have to keep looping in this cycle forever?”
“Papa did not, no? We’re still here.”
“You got lucky.”
“Everyone gets lucky sometimes. But if you never try? How will you know?”
“I’m not ready.”
“Alors, pourquoi the face?”
“I don’t like the way I left things, that’s all.”
“You made a Sophie?”
“I begged you not to say that again.”
She softly chuckled. “What was it, pulled? You pulled a Sophie?”
“Mom!” I whined before hearing Travis call my name. “A—Anyway, look. I have to go. Kiss papa, d’accord?”
She blew me a kiss through the screen before we ended the call.
I wanted her to tell me that leaving the way I had was acceptable, but instead, she called it ‘pulling a Sophie’. And I wasn’t stupid; I knew that at twenty-six, I should have stopped behaving the way I did in high school. I couldn’t help it. Every time I got close to a man, I somehow pictured the whole thing falling apart. So why not tear it to shreds now? Why wait until later, when there would definitely be emotions and history? I tried that once, and it wasn’t pretty.
When the class was over, Travis and I decided to grab some lunch with our buddies at the center. While we were at the pizza place, a friend of his called and told him that they were hanging out at some bar later.
“Wanna come with?” He wiped his hands with a napkin.
“They won’t mind?”
He chuckled. “Not everyone’s like you, Jones. You’re an introvert.”
“Okay. Might do me some good.”
At the graffiti-adorned bar, Travis started making the introductions. “This is Sophie. We volunteer together. Uh—So… Sydney, Maude, Brock, Brock’s girlfriend—I forget your name—” He then quickly chuckled, “Just kidding, Chloe… and Dominic.”
I lifted up a greeting hand and grinned. “Wow! Can’t promise to remember any of this after my third drink.”
“Drink, yeah,” Travis said. “What should I get you?”
“No, I can go—”
“Don’t be silly, I’m going, anyway. What do you feel like?”
“A Manhattan?”
“Comin’ right up!”
Already feeling awkward, I turned back to his friends and kept the smile plastered on my face. I noticed that Dominic was complaining to Maude about something. “… I mean, what the fuck’s wrong with her? If she knew she wanted to break up, why have sex first? Was she… like… waiting for an orgasm that’ll change her mind or something?”
Maude shook her head. “So inconsiderate!” She then turned to me and, in an effort to include me, she leaned over. “Can you believe what some women do these days? I mean, we get it… we want equal rights.”
I didn’t carefully think about my words; they just rolled off my tongue. “But maybe that also means the equal right to be assholes sometimes?”
“Snap!” She laughed before turning to Dominic. “I like her!”
He smiled, shrugged, and then shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t even think she knows she was being an asshole.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t really think I’m in a position to—” I gestured with my hand.
“Of course, you are!” Travis came and handed me my drink. “You’re here, we’re here.” He then turned to his friends. “She’s got one of the most critical eyes I’ve met in a while. She can call your bullshit any day, nothin’ stops her.”
“Oh, yeah?” Brock smirked. “If you’re so brutal… do you think it’s Dominic’s right to take the shit his ex left behind? For the way she’d acted?”
Feeling cornered, I shook my head. “I don’t know her. I don’t know him… the history.”
“It’s as simple as it sounds,” Chloe added. “They had sex, and then bam! She broke up with him.”
At the risk of being deemed a bitch, I felt that the need to stand my ground was stronger than my desire for their acceptance. “Honestly? Doesn’t sound simple to me at all.” I took a step back, handing Travis my drink as I turned and looked at Dominic. “Sounds like a lot to unpack, buddy.”
“Where are you going?” Travis followed me as I raced toward the door.
I placed both hands on the exit door. “I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling it.”
“You barely talked to them!”
“There’s just—I’m not…” I shook my head. “I need to go.”
Angrily, he lifted up the Manhattan. “I bought this for you!”
“Oh.” With a swift move, I grabbed it and downed it in one go, giving back the empty glass to him. “Thanks. I owe you a drink.”
“Sophie!” he shouted.
But I was already at the other side of the door.
Deciding not to dwell too much, I took the subway back to Travis’ street. In the apartment, I kept the lights off while I lit up a joint, smoking it out the narrow window that overlooked only a fraction of the street. Did Dominic’s little story upset me, because he wouldn’t accept that a woman could act just as many men had throughout history, or because I felt guilty for doing the same thing to Nathan?
It wasn’t the same thing. Nathan and I weren’t dating.
But if I knew that I didn’t want anything out of it, why did I let myself fall asleep in his bed? And when I briefly opened my eyes at half-past-four, why did I decide to spend the night? I could have easily snuck out, but I chose to remain asleep in his arms. I gave him the wrong idea and…
Stop. Men and women have been sharing beds for decades without it meaning anything. You were being hard on yourself. You’re judging your own actions far harsher than you would a friend’s. This isn’t self-love.
Where did the joint go? Had I really smoked it all?
The feelings I was experiencing either promised a fantastic night or threatened me with a dark pit of self-loathing. I wasn’t interested in the latter, so I grabbed my purse and fished out the phone.
“Yes?” Nathan’s tone was a sure sign that he was upset—and rightfully so.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“The way I left.”
“So, it takes you a while to process things. I can work with that.”
“Don’t be a jerk.”
“Your apologies are peculiar.”
“Surprised?”
“Very little surprises me.”
“Yet you seemed shocked when I turned down your lunch invitation.”
He sighed into the phone. “What do you want, Jones?”
A thousand contemplations rushed back and forth in my mind within a second, until I blurted out what I truly wanted. “I wanna see you.”
“There’s somewhere I’ve gotta be.”
“Fine, meet me when you’re done.”
“It’ll be late.”
“I got all night.”
“You’re persistent.”
“And what do you make of that?”
“I’m not gonna do this with you.”
“Do what?”
“Make assumptions.”
“Then don’t. Just come and meet me at the center in Brooklyn.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s closed now.”
“And guess who has a key.”
“Fine. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
“I’ll be there.”
The rush in my veins was like nothing I had ever experienced. I grabbed my purse and practically ran outside, pondering the possibilities of what I could do with the ground floor studio when I got there.
And frankly, I didn’t know how I got there.
Standing in the middle of the spacious room, I started eyeing the props while I turned on some strategically situated lights. Blue. White. There was even a nineties-inspired black light in the corner, and it begged me to turn it on.
I smoked another joint in there, pushing my luck, hoping not to fall asleep before Nathan got here.
Then true inspiration hit.
On my phone, I blasted a classic playlist with Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Tom Jones. I pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes that I’d been carrying all day and pulled out one, lighting it up. Closing my eyes, I started to dance until I hit a wooden chair, so I dragged it into the center under the white spotlight.
When Nathan finally stepped in through the door, I was halfway through with my cigarette.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” he remarked, slowly strutting in as his eyes drank in the place.
“Everyone’s gotta try everything at least once.”
He turned to look at me, smirking—or so I thought through the optical illusions of the light. “You think I should kiss a man?”
“Why not?” I sat in the chair, aware that the angle of the light wasn’t at all flattering. “I’ve kissed a girl before.”
“Shocking.” He turned, as if starting to tread in a circle around me. “So, here I am. In this, uh—” he clicked his tongue as he returned to my field of vision, “place?”
“Studio?”
“Ah—Is this where the magic happens?”
“Most of these kids can’t act to save their own lives.” I followed him with my eyes and then turned my head until I spun my ass on the chair to keep up with him. “You’re making me dizzy.”
“You brought me here, and now you’re talking to me about kids I’ve never met.”
“I’m trying something.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Jones.” He abruptly stopped, leaning over so that his face was at level with mine. “You wanna fuck, but no strings attached?”
“What if I do?”
His eyes now on my neck slowly crawled down my shirt dress, stopping at every significant spot as if to torture me. He knew that I wanted him. He was certain that if he launched at me right now, I wouldn’t resist for a second. But instead, he kept his hands in his pockets and a cold, distant smile on his lips.
He finally said, “Why here? Got a show prepared?”
My finger lingered on the top button of my dress. “Maybe?”
“And what’s with the music? Isn’t that the stuff they use to brainwash women into making rich men richer?”
“I told you, I’m trying something.”
“I refuse to be a lab rat for you.”
Slowly standing up, I undid the first button. “Lab rats are taken. You came here on your own.”
I looked down; his hands were still in his pockets. I admired his self-control. To him, we were engaging in a duel where there was a winner and a loser.
Me, I wanted to let myself feel—fully and completely, without the restraint of his home or mine. To lose myself to the feeling without deliberating how it would grow, or if the walls around us would contain it.
And so…
I undid the second button.