I refuse to manipulate her. I refuse to be some old guy who bullies her or buys her love. Not that Cynthia would even participate in that. If I tried to control her, I know she wouldn’t put up with it. That’s one of the reasons I like her so much.
I finish my sandwich and sigh. I won’t reach out today. I’ll give her a bit more time.
If I see her in the driveway, I won’t go out. Of course, if I just so happen to be grabbing my mail or something, I will speak to her and let her know I would like to talk. I won’t try and orchestrate anything. I don’t want Cynthia to feel cornered.
If I haven’t heard from her by noon tomorrow, then I’ll give her a call.
For now, I need to resist.
I clean up from my lunch. Then I grab my phone and turn it off. No point in letting it distract me.
Chapter Thirteen
Cynthia
When I get back to my apartment, there’s dead silence from Nate’s house. I hate myself for even looking up at his windows as I lock my bike.
I dash up to my apartment as quick as I can.
Maybe this is how it’s going to be. He will pretend last night never happened. If that’s how he’s going to behave, I suppose I can act that way as well.
I was sure he would want to at least talk though. When he left last night, he told me we would talk later. Was it all just a lie? Is that just somehting men say after sex?
I wish there was some sort of rulebook. A guide to having sex with your much older landlord who gives you pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever experienced, but then is radio silent the next day.
Of course, I’ve been radio silent as well. I could easily be a mature person and reach out to him. But I can’t even figure out what I would say. I’m not going to suggest we repeat the event. I’m too nervous, and I’m starting to realize that this whole thing is taking a toll on my emotional health. I’ve been so distracted and out of it, and I don’t need that kind of distraction right now. If sex and relationships are this confusing, I’ve been right to steer clear of them for so long.
I never really thought of myself as a socially awkward person, but when it comes to Nate, I’m completely at sea. I have no idea what to say or how to act.
So I probably need to just disengage. Focus on my classes and graduating and getting ready for med school in the city.
He’s not worth the trouble and stress. As soon as I tell myself that, I know it’s a lie. I’m delusional if I think I could turn Nate down if he showed up at my door again and looked at me the way he did last night and asked me to call him daddy again. There’s no way I would say no to that.
So maybe he is worth the trouble, but I just don’t think it’s going to happen again. It was a one-off situation. A crazy hook-up that will someday just fade into a memory that I will look back on now and then when I reminisce about how I lost my virginity.
I go into my kitchen and think about cooking something, then immediately decide that tonight is the ideal time to order in.
I’m feeling moody when I think of how I’ll look back on Nate in the future. I’ll be with someone else. The person I’m supposed to be with. Maybe we’ll meet while I’m in medical school. We’ll have a nice wedding and a house and a family. Everything I’ve always wanted. And Nate will just be this older guy who fucked me once.
It doesn’t quite fit. I can’t imagine thinking of him like that. It does seem the most realistic future though, especially since Nate and I are at this weird impasse.
I order chinese food from my favorite place and decide to call my mom. There’s no way I’m going to tell her what happened. She’ll be too concerned. Knowing her, she’ll probably get in the car and drive out here to make sure I’m not having some sort of breakdown.
Instead, we spend a half hour chatting about her daily life and routines, and she gushes about how excited she is for my graduation.
I tell her about school, and I don’t make up a fake story like I did with Becca, but even so, when we hang up, I feel that by omitting the events of the previous evening, I still lied to her. I’ve told my mother everything in my life, every milestone, but I can’t bring myself to share this.
Even thinking about the details makes me cringe. I know what my mother would think if I told her how old Nate is and if I shared my desire to call him daddy. She would feel guilty and assume that her divorce from my father messed me up. She’ll think I have the dreaded “daddy issues.”
I don’t have daddy issues. I’m not looking for approval from older men, or acting on insecurities. I just liked to yield control in the bed. I just wanted to call him daddy, it doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.
My chinese food arrives, and I eat it alone while watching random videos online.
After a quick shower (during which I think way too much about what happened in my bathroom twenty-four hours ago), I climb into bed.
To my surprise, I don’t toss and turn and think about Nate for hours. Instead, I fall asleep right away.
Sometime in the night, I have a realistic dream.
In it, Nate stands in my doorway. I awaken and sit up in bed. His eyes seem to burn right through me, and I can hear my
