Matt opened the door and kept it close to his body and face, leaning out so I couldn’t see inside. Frankie must have been home. I felt relieved that I did not have to face my fear of her somehow knowing all the wrongs we had committed, all the things we had done behind her back. She just knows about the jealousy and that’s it I kept repeating to myself, over and over. After all, our transgressions weren’t that bad. We kissed, we talked, we touched a little. It wasn’t anything that hadn’t been done before. It was only what happened inside of our bodies, the feeling centers, that had changed, and there was no possible way for her to know what was happening there. That part was under the skin, where she couldn’t reach.
When Matt looked at me, I had to stop a smile from forming. He wasn’t smiling and I did not want to come off as inappropriate. His mouth was terse and upset. The bags under his eyes were puffy, pronounced. His head was shaved clean again. I could hear the baby making noises somewhere in the apartment. The TV was blaring.
Matt sighed and I heard the clang of dishes in the background. The man might as well have been married. I started to pick my thumb bloody and wondered when one of us was going to speak. He just stared at me with this book in my hand and the first thing I could think of was what I always did, which was to make things worse.
“I didn’t sleep with Patrick,” I whispered. “I was with Jenny. I wish you would believe me.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and then looked behind him. This man who fucked like a little dark god, who in my mind could have anything he wanted, looked back into the house like his mother would catch him doing something wrong. Mommy. The smell of rice and meat wafted out of the apartment and I had the realization I hadn’t eaten anything cooked in weeks. I sniffed in the cold, waiting for an answer.
He put his hand out and I reacted by handing him the book, my finger in the spot where the CD was hidden. I let his finger slide into the open place when I handed it to him, and watched his eyes as he found the CD there. A tiny flash of recognition, another secret. We were silent. He nodded his understanding.
“You can’t call the house anymore.”
Matt closed the door until just a crack was left.
“I will call you when I can,” he said.
Three days later, Jenny came into work with news. What was I hoping for? I didn’t cook rice and meat. I didn’t even think I could take care of myself, much less a child. Frankie did everything he needed her to. What would happen if we were together? Would I be the mother of Jett? My hobbies included touching myself, drinking cough syrup, and flirting with boys at RadioShack. Could I be anything else? I wondered if Matt had talked to Jenny and she’d smoothed everything out. Maybe he would finally call me. I could finally see him.
Instead, Jenny told me that Matt gave Frankie an engagement ring.
FROM TEETH
THOUGHTS OF MATT WERE an hourly fixation. My self-esteem was drying up without his attention, and as a result I spent an enormous amount of time trying to get Sam to sleep with me. He’d started dating someone, and this only made me want him more. I’d think about the movements Matt and I made with our bodies, sometimes I’d even think of Frankie, and since I could not have Matt in that moment I’d try, constantly, to come over to Sam’s apartment so I could reenact my fantasies with him. If I closed my eyes, it didn’t matter who I was blowing. I could pretend.
Sam took to fucking me on benches at local parks a few times a week. I wanted to be pushed further and further, and so we were doing more and more things that felt dangerous.
“Get naked,” he’d say. I got naked. I did it because I knew whatever girl he was dating wouldn’t strip in the middle of the night in a public park, and this was some kind of victory. I stood there, dropped my clothes onto the wet grass, and waited for his next command.
“Get on your knees,” he’d say next. Everything he loved about me involved the shapes my mouth could make.
I’d blow him, and he’d come on my tits. I’d close my eyes when this happened and think of Matt, the warmth of it comforting me against the cold night breeze. Sam would say, “You like it when I come on your little tits, don’t you.” And I’d say yes. I’d use my shirt or dress to wipe up, and then we’d either fuck in the back of his Camaro or he’d drop me off at home.
What he always said about me, why I was such a slut, I had an itch I could never scratch. I’d never come, even with Matt or Frankie, yet I continuously pursued sexual relationships. Sam had never tried. Not until years later did he seem to care that much about making me feel good. Not until years later did he ask if I was falling in love with him.
After we fucked in the park, he’d drop me off, and then it was just me and my hands and body and a half-empty bottle of Robitussin writhing in the sheets. They say you have to know yourself and you will know your
