14. Wednesday #2
“I know.” He considered her, and she turned off the television, which made him smile briefly.
But he looked away when he started talking.
“I was going through a tough time when I was a teenager… I told you I thought my mother didn’t love me.
Which wasn’t true but it’s how I felt. And my father was pretty distant.
So I guess I was looking for approval. And when I was sixteen, I met this cool twenty-one-year-old student who worked in a used clothing store.
I chatted with her a few times, and she seemed really impressed that I’d seen some Godard films. So she invited me to her place to watch a movie, and when I showed up, she sat next to me and put her hand on my leg, and I remember thinking, ‘She can’t possibly be doing this.
She’s too old. There’s no way that this is actually happening.
’ And by the time I realized that it was, I didn’t have the words to tell her that I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it.
I ended up going along with it because she expected me to.
And then she told me to come back the next week, and I started sneaking out to see her every weekend. ”
Sarah considered him. His expression was carefully blank. “How long did it go on for?”
“A few months. And she knew how young I was. I think she liked that she could set all the terms, tell me what to do, and I would do whatever she told me to.”
“Ren. That’s not good.”
“No. I kept telling myself how cool it was that I was having a fling with an older woman. But I think it messed me up in the long term. Anyway, my point is that I’m not judging you for not being able to tell your boyfriend what you wanted in high school because I didn’t have the words either.
If I’d taken time to think about what I wanted, I probably would have waited and lost my virginity with someone I cared about. ”
She wondered if his preternaturally beautiful looks had made him a particular target. “Do you think that’s why you hooked up with so many girls at university?” Sarah asked. “To get revenge on women?”
He frowned. “No. I don’t think so. I never disliked women.
It was more that I wanted to get back a sense of control.
When Giselle ended things, she did it by just announcing one day that she’d found a boyfriend and didn’t want to see me anymore, and I was destroyed for months.
Not because I was so in love with her, but because it felt like she had picked me up like a piece of paper, crumpled me up, and tossed me in the trash when she was done with me.
So when I started seeing women, I always wanted to be the one who started and ended things.
I would offer women this casual fling. And if they said yes, then we could see each other, and then one day I would deliberately annoy them so that they would break up with me.
I would say the wrong thing and offend them, because then I could pick exactly when things ended, and nobody would ever surprise me and dump me. ”
“What kinds of things did you say?” She thought of Anya and Kristie and Ellen—how all of them had given up on Ren.
“Nothing personal or anything. It was pretty ridiculous, actually. I would tell them that I didn’t date for longer than three weeks because that’s the point when emotional attachments start to form, which is total nonsense.
Then I would give them this speech about how I didn’t believe love was real, that it was a biochemical response, and that sex was the world’s only self-administered intravenous drug, and they would eventually roll their eyes and tell me I needed therapy.
Which I would always agree was probably true.
And then I would ask them if it was okay if I kept exploring, but that I was available for casual sex, and they were usually glad to be rid of me. ”
Sarah glanced at the dark television screen. “I can see why you aren’t a fan of huge age gap relationships on television shows.”
“And I can see why you are. Your story about losing your virginity offends me just from a craftsmanship perspective.”
“Craftmanship?” Sarah laughed. “Satisfying women in bed is like crochet?”
“Or woodworking or knitting? Absolutely. It requires patience, attention to detail, and occasionally the right tools.”
Sarah laughed. “I was too embarrassed to tell anyone about me and Phil. I haven’t even told Anya that story.”
“I didn’t tell anyone about Giselle. You and Paola are the only people who know about her, aside from my therapist. It took a long time to admit that I was a victim in that situation.”
She watched him for a moment. He gave her a quick, rueful smile and then looked down again.
“Can I give you a hug?” she asked.
He looked confused. “Why?”
“Because I can’t go back and push that woman into traffic, so this is what I can do instead.”
Ren was silent for a moment. “You know when you talked about how you didn’t want pity? I don’t either.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
After a long moment, he shifted on the bed and she realized he was making room for her. She stepped over to Ren’s bed and sat next to him, putting her arms around him. After a moment, she let him go and they just sat there, legs pressed against each other, saying nothing.
“I wish we’d talked more about real things back in school,” Ren said quietly.
“I made it hard. I was always making fun of you.”
“I didn’t mind that.”
Sarah sat there with him for a long, quiet moment.
She didn’t know what any of this meant, but it felt natural to be with him.
It had always felt natural, even back at university, on the rare occasion that they were sitting on a sofa next to each other or pressed against each other in a bar.
It was one reason that things were always so confusing.
After a moment, Ren spoke again. “When Paola and I were getting a divorce, she said…” He stopped speaking entirely, like he’d hit a wall.
“What?”
“She said that I was probably emotionally stunted at sixteen because of what had happened. That I was emotionally still a teenager.”
Sarah felt appalled. “That’s not true at all.”
“It’s probably true on some level.”
She looked up at him. “No. You’re grown up about a lot of things.
I know you’re a good parent. And you’re organized.
You look out for people. Even in school, you made sure people were okay when they were drunk, or cold, or needed help coming up with ideas for a paper.
Maybe Paola’s the only woman you ever loved, but I don’t think she was seeing you clearly when she said that. ”
He shook his head. “Paola’s not the only woman I ever loved.”
“I thought you said you only loved one person.”
“I didn’t say it was her.”
Sarah felt herself holding her breath. She waited for him to tell her who it was.
The thought that it was Sarah herself drifted across her mind like a passing cloud, but she knew better than that.
Surely if that were true, he would have asked to date her at some point. Surely he wouldn’t have let her go.
She spoke after a moment, her head leaning a little against his shoulder. “I’m afraid to become your assistant because I don’t want my whole life to revolve around you. If we had a fight or something, I don’t want to lose my friend and my job and my financial stability.”
“I understand that,” Ren said quietly.
“But we could try it. For a while. Because I really hate my job right now.”
“I know you do,” he said. There was a touch of humor in the words. He had been able to see it. The first time she had talked about her job, he had known how miserable she was.
“And I don’t think I’m going to stop wanting to be your friend,” she said softly. “I haven’t yet. Even when you’ve hurt me, I still missed you.”
She felt his chest rise and fall slowly.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said quietly into her hair. “I am so sorry.”