Chapter 25
Zach
My eyes roam over
the classified ads with frustration, looking at the “Help
Wanted” section and seeing job after job that I’m either
unqualified for or that I’ve already applied to.
Nothing. Not a
single call back for an interview.
I feel like such a
lame-ass when I fill out the applications, really only able to
provide my name, current address, and two references.
Moira and Randall.
My lover and my godfather.
No education. No
work experience.
No call backs.
The front door to my
parents’ house… correction, my house… opens and I
turn my body from my perch at the kitchen table to see Moira walk in
like a ray of sunshine. She’s carrying two grocery bags in each
hand and, when her eyes light upon mine, she smiles at me
brilliantly.
“I got some
gorgeous steaks for us to grill out tomorrow night. Randall said he’d
join us for dinner. Oh, and more Cocoa Puffs for you, and I bought
Lucky Charms for me.”
I want to laugh at
her silly joy in grocery shopping because Moira seems to have been
lit up from within this last week since we’ve moved into this
house. She’s enjoying the role of homemaker, easily slipping
into a new lifestyle with me. She cooks and keeps the house clean,
has planted flowers in the front yard, and even repainted the kitchen
and living room.
Hefting the grocery
bags onto the counter, she chatters away about meeting a woman at the
store that had twin baby boys. I don’t hear longing in her
voice, but I do hear absolute happiness as she recounts how cute they
were dressed alike, even with matching pacifiers stuck inside their
tiny mouths.
And my mood turns
even darker than it was a moment ago. As Moira seems to be happier
with where we’ve settled, I’ve become increasingly
frustrated and bitter. My life seems to be running just one day into
the other, and I’m succumbing to boredom and restlessness.
Sure, Moira and I
still go out almost every day to explore the area around us. We go
shopping, see foreign films, take tours of galleries, and have
picnics in the park. We read newspapers together and discuss the most
interesting articles. We drive out into the country and take in the
scenery, stopping at country diners to try southern home cooking. I’m
busy every single day with Moira and yet, I find it all frivolous.
Except when I’m
fucking Moira. That is the one thing that makes me happy, and there’s
nothing pointless about that union. It gets so much better every
single time I touch her… kiss her… stroke her soft
skin, and she whispers sweet words of abandon to me. It’s what
keeps me going… keeps me motivated to push forward and
continue to try to find some unity with this new life I’m
leading.
“So, any luck
with the job search today?” Moira asks as she puts the steaks
and some milk in the refrigerator.
Pushing the paper
away, I sigh in irritation. “No. All the same stuff I’ve
applied for already.”
Her voice is
cheerful and encouraging. “No worries, baby. You’ll find
something soon, I’m sure of it.”
“It’s
kind of hard to get a fucking job when I don’t have any
experience,” I snap at her, and then watch as her body jerks as
if I’ve slapped her.
I sit poised…
tensed… ready for her eyes to narrow and for her to spit words
of anger back at me. Instead, she stares at me a moment, and then her
eyes soften. She walks up to me and drapes herself across my lap,
wrapping her arms around my neck and nuzzling her cheek against my
shoulder. “I’m sorry. Please don’t get frustrated.
It can take a while to find a job, even for people with a lot of
experience. Besides… if it’s really important to you,
you know Randall will hire you at Cannon’s.”
Bitterness that
feels like hot ash wells up inside of me, and I push her off my lap.
I stand up and throw my hands out to the side of my body. “Of
course finding a job is really important to me. Don’t you get
my frustration over this? And just drop the fucking Randall thing.
Taking a job from him is like taking the fucking money he piles in my
bank account. I can’t do it.”
Spinning from her, I
walk back toward our room.
Yes, our room…
formerly my parents’ room, but we took that one since it had
the bigger bed. Moira fitted it with new sheets and a comforter done
in browns and beiges… much more masculine she asserted.
Reaching into the closet, I pull out the tuxedo that I’m going
to have to put on for tonight’s dinner party that Randall is
throwing in my honor.
Fuck, I don’t
want to go to this thing. Large crowds are not my thing and I’m
tired of the endless curiosity about me, and the probing questions of
what it’s like to live like a heathen, and everyone being
completely flummoxed that I would want to return there to live. I
constantly have to justify my desires to everyone.
Everyone except
Moira. She silently accepts my decision, even though I see the
sadness in her eyes whenever I talk about returning.
“I’m
sorry, Zach,” I hear softly from behind me as her arms slip
around my waist. She presses her cheek to my back and holds me tight.
“I know this is hard on you. What can I do to make it better?”
I briefly cover her
hands with mine as they rest on my stomach, stroking my thumbs over
her skin. She feels so good, plastered up against me. Warm, tight
security. Comfort. I’ll miss fucking Moira when I leave, but
damn… I’ll miss this as well. I’ve never had it in
my life, and now that I’ve had a taste, I know this will be a
terrible loss that I’ll have to live with when I go back.
For about the
millionth time, I rage inside over the unfairness of my situation.
I’ve so long ago committed my heart and my loyalties to Caraica
that I feel powerless to do anything but return. It almost feels like
a moral obligation at this point. I know when that time comes, I’m
going to be devastated to leave Moira.
I know without a
doubt her memory will haunt me, and not just because of the stellar
sex. No, it’s turned into something so much more than that. My
ability to talk to her for hours on end and even my ability to sit in
absolute but comfortable silence with her is a treasure I’ve
never had. Not even with Paraila.
That thought also
darkens my mood to a foul blackness and suddenly, her hands upon me
seem almost stifling.
Pulling Moira’s
arms away from me, I step out of her embrace and turn to face her.
“You better start getting ready. We’re going to have to
leave soon for the party.”
Disappointment fills
her eyes, but she gives me a smiling nod of understanding and heads
for the bathroom. I think briefly of joining her in the shower, but
then decide against it. I don’t think I can handle intimacy
with her right at this very moment.
“So, then the
priest looks at the bottle and says, ‘Good Lord! He’s
done it again’.”
Everyone standing in
our group laughs uproariously, and I plaster a fake smile on my face.
I didn’t get that joke, nor the other two the pudgy bastard had
told the cream of Atlanta’s society.
Looking around the
massive ballroom that sits in the east wing of Randall’s
mansion, my eyes search for Moira. She had walked off several minutes
ago to use the restroom, and my skin was itching to have her back at
my side. I feel uncomfortable with these people that I have nothing
in common with, and it’s torture trying to bear up under their
scrutiny.
Finally…
there she is… walking back in with a confident and graceful
stride. She’s wearing a strapless, white gown that plunges low
in between her breasts, knotted in the center of her chest with a
crystal, rhinestone flower. When she walks, a slit up the side
reveals her long legs with her feet encased in crystal-studded
sandals that add about four inches of height on her. Perfect
alignment for me to fuck her standing up without having to bend my
knees to compensate for the height difference.
I pull away silently
from the group and make my way across the floor to her. Reaching out,
I grab two glasses of champagne from a nearby waiter and when her
eyes land on me, they shine with delight and tenderness.
We come together,
and I hand her the glass. Her delicate fingers take it from me, and
she takes a small sip.
“You look like
you could use this more than me,” she murmurs.
“These people
are strange,” I tell her. “If one more person asks me
what monkey tastes like or if I crap in the jungle, I’m going
to strangle someone.”
“Has it really
been that bad?” she asks in commiseration.
Anger sparks within
me, but I rein it in tight. It’s not for Moira. “These
people are so condescending to me. Half of them talk slowly to me
like I’m a half-wit.”
Rage flashes across
Moira’s face. “Who did that? I’ll fucking have
their balls. Randall will have their fucking balls.”
“Easy there,
tiger,” I tell her, my chest flushing warmly over her
protectiveness of me. “I’m a novelty. I get it. But I
can’t fucking stand this party.”
Moira smiles and
places her hand on my chest. “We’ll leave soon. I’m
sure Randall would understand.”
Reaching my free
hand out, I trace my fingers along her cheek. “I’m sorry
I snapped at you earlier. I shouldn’t take my frustration out
on you.”
Her hand comes up to
cover mine, and her eyes close briefly as she nuzzles into my caress.
“It’s okay. We all need that one person we can just vent
to.”
“And you’ll
be that person for me?” I ask in amusement.
Her eyes bore into
me with utter seriousness and purpose. “I’ll be your
everything if you want me to.”
Fuck yes, I want
that.
Fuck no, I can’t
have that. Not when we’ll eventually be living on two different
continents.
Rather than give her
affirmation, I pull our joined hands away from her face and lean in
to give her a soft kiss. She sighs so softly, like a flower opening
up its petals, and it makes me want to crush her to me.
“Isn’t
that sweet?” I hear a woman’s voice from behind me.
“Looks like your little secret is out in the open.
Congratulations to you.”
Turning to face