Settling Down
My personal slut streak ended in April when I broke the cardinal rule of my own code of conduct and had sex with a stranger on the living room rug. His name was Tony and I met him at a crowded party that this guy, Malik, was throwing on the third floor of our building. Tony was from South Philadelphia, but was in Scottsboro visiting “a friend of a friend” of Malik’s. The details swirled around in my head, mingling with the vodka in my blood and telling me that this Tony guy seemed safe enough—and definitely cute enough—to hook up with later. I was drunk, maybe drunker than I’d ever been in my life, when I headed downstairs with definitely-cute-enough Tony only two steps behind me.
I’d trusted John Lixner. I’d trusted Warren. I didn’t even know Tony. But for some reason, I kept telling myself it was okay. It’s just Tony from South Philly, I thought as he put the condom on. He knows people who know Malik. But I hardly even knew Malik. I hadn’t met him until that night. Like Tony from South Philly, I, too, had been invited to the party by “a friend of a friend.”
Lying on the floor with a stranger three times removed from a guy in my building whom I hadn’t even met until that night, and so drunk my body had turned to butterflies—I still can’t believe it came to that. People say rules were meant to be broken, but the circumstances weren’t even special. They were just plain stupid. The rule, itself, was stupid—to think I could walk such a fine line between fire and certain death without getting burned. Tempting the flame was doing “everything but” what I thought might kill me. It had been more than ten years, but Blanche had never been far from my mind, not really. Those boys that night at Keith Shay’s had killed a part of her and she’d let them. I just always had to be careful not to let them. With my rule, I thought I’d taken back control. For my sister. Because she couldn’t. Because I’d never done anything to save her.
Sometimes I worried that they might get angry when I said no. That they might come home with me expecting sex and just go for it no matter what my rules were. But I always had Alison—right in the next bedroom. I could always just scream for her if things got out of hand. If some demanding prick tried to break my rule. But what if I were the one to break it willingly? What if Alison were still upstairs at a party when I realized my mistake? Who would I scream for then? Who would hear me?
I barely remember what Tony looked like, but I remember the sting of the rug. Blanche had done it with six guys on Keith Shay’s living room carpet. And now I was doing it with them, too. Tony was heavy on top of me, and he was Kevin. They were all Kevin. And it wasn’t a nightmare. I may have forced the memory into a cave and buried it in shadows. I may have whitewashed fear with denial. I might always live the lie, but my body knew what truth felt like. It felt like men on top of me, holding my wrists, when I was scared to death to be there. It felt like hot, sweaty, spinning rooms, wanting to scream, and memories of my sister. It felt like dying.
Blanche, the rebel who had never fought back. I screamed because she couldn’t. Because Kevin had really hurt me. Because Tony was making me burn.
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, jumping up. He couldn’t seem to get his clothes on fast enough.
“I don’t know!” I sobbed, pulling a blanket off of the couch to cover myself with. “I don’t know!”
“You’re fucking crazy, that’s what’s wrong with you,” he said before slamming the door.
You’re just a screwed-up whore who’s got everybody fooled but me.
After seeing Tony storm back into Malik’s apartment and split with his friend, Gina, Alison knew that something bad had happened. She rushed immediately downstairs and found me in the living room—still lying on the floor in tears. Anyone could’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion.
“Stella, tell me what he did to you! Tell me and I’ll kill him!”
Her panic soothed me. It was nice to be around someone who cared. “It was nothing like that, Al. Tony was just mad because… Look, I just don’t think I can do this teacher by day, vixen by night routine anymore. Okay?”
“That’s it? You mean he didn’t hurt you?”
“Not the way you’re thinking. We just…I…” I’d started to well up again.
“Oh, what is it, sweetie? Did you break your rule or something? Is that it?” I nodded. “Oh, it’s okay,” she said, cupping my face in her hands. “We’ll ditch the routine together, all right? I’ve been getting tired of it, too. And don’t feel bad about breaking your rule. I broke mine last week. You know, ‘Everything But the—’”
“I know,” I said, hugging her. “Ew.”
Alison and I spent the next month trying to erase the last eight with clean living. We still had parties and went to bars, but the only guys who came beyond the front door of our apartment, besides Warren and Rob, were our good friends from the building, Anthony, Marcus and Izzie. Marcus and Izzie were cousins, who roomed together down the hall, while Anthony lived in a one-bedroom upstairs. And in our minds, they didn’t even count as guys because they were such good friends and, therefore, fell into the “off limits” category when it came to fooling around. It was part of that whole preference we shared for keeping sex and socialization separate. Only now our minds had left the gutter and sex wasn’t all we thought about; an evolution was taking place. And the “asexual” trio we’d trained ourselves to treat like brothers was beginning to shine with promise. Izzie was the quiet one, while Marcus and Anthony tag-teamed as the life of every party. It wasn’t until I took the time to slow down and breathe that I realized just how much I preferred the quiet.
Truth be told, I’d always been intrigued by Izzie. Part of it, I will admit, was the fact that he reminded me of John. I was immediately drawn to his gentle nature and soft-spoken sense of humor. But I hadn’t even been face-to-face with John in six years. Izzie and I had a different dynamic. We were adults. And as an adult, I thought I’d found a guy that I could honestly wrap my heart around. As it turns out, I was right.
I no longer worried about mixing sex and friendship because I no longer wanted one without the other. I hadn’t taken on a so-called vow of celibacy like Rob and I wasn’t necessarily looking for a relationship. I just knew it was okay to have the feelings I was beginning to have for Izzie because they had nothing to do with conquest. If we got together, it wouldn’t be a one-night stand. It would be something special, something real. And as he evolved from my intriguing pal down the hall to the guy I was actually falling for, I grew hopeful that he might care for me, too. Hints came in the way he looked at me during those early-morning conversations, in the fact that we were actually still talking, long after everyone else at the party had passed out, still talking and laughing as if time didn’t matter, sharing a warm bottle of beer. And one of those mornings, he kissed me. The last thing either of us wanted to do after that was reverse our evolution.
Izzie Salvato was my first “real world” boyfriend and the greatest happiness I had known since that week I spent making love to John when I was nineteen. Following our lead, Alison began seeing Anthony, spending most of her nights upstairs in his apartment, which left our apartment free for Izzie and me. Anthony worked the middle shift in a warehouse and didn’t get home until nine-thirty every night. That was generally the time my roommate would disappear and my boyfriend would show up at the front door. As a political cartoonist, Izzie did most of his work from home while I was teaching, so we could’ve spent even more time together if we’d wanted. But I liked that 4:00 to 9:30 was my time alone with Alison, even if all we did sometimes was sit in silence and grade tests. The last thing I wanted was to drift away from her just because we’d both settled down.
“It’ll never happen, Stella Bella,” she told me. It was Friday night and we were sitting at the kitchen table having coffee. “If Anthony and I eloped tomorrow, I’d still have my head up your ass.”
“Now, that’s a delicious visual.”
“I just mean I’m not going anywhere.”
“Glad to hear it. So, are you and Anthony discussing marriage already?”
“We’ve talked about it a couple of times, but it’s not like he proposed or anything. It’s only talk.”
“Oh.”
“Relax, Stella. You don’t have to be having marriage conversations to know you’re in a good relationship. You and Izzie are incredible together. And look what can happen to couples who discuss marriage too early. Isn’t that what Emily and Rob decided their problem was?”
“Yeah, that and the fact that he was sleeping with a guy for four and a half years before he met her.”
“No, but I mean, their recent talk, wasn’t it all about—”
“Yeah, yeah. They shouldn’t have jumped the gun.”
“See.”
“If you ask me, I still think their problems had a lot more to do with Malcolm than jumping the gun.”
“Maybe that’s what they meant—jumping Malcolm’s gun.”
“I don’t think so, Alison. But the good thing is, at least they’re not talking about marriage this time. They’ve been back together for eight months already and they’re still taking it slow. I think that’s good.”
“Has it only been eight months?”
“Not counting the year and three months they spent as just friends.”
“Okay, but technically, Rob’s been back in her life for almost two years, and he’s been nothing but good to her, right?”
“As far as I know.”
“Then I’d ease up on the guy. Maybe he really has changed.”
“I haven’t wanted to admit it, but I think I eased up on him a while ago. It’s hard to think someone’s a jerk when they’re so damn nice to you.”
“Not to mention the fact that he hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Except for break Emily’s heart.”
“Another lifetime ago. Forget about it.”
“I’ve been trying.”
“Hey, does this mean that Warren and Giselle are coming up on eight months, too?”
“Yup. And whoever thought that would last?”
“Well, aren’t you the cynic?”
“How can I be a cynic when I’m so madly in love?”
“I’ll get back to you on that one,” she said, standing up from the table. She came over and gave me a hug. “Have fun with Izzie tonight, love bug.”
“I guess I’ll see you Monday morning, then?” I asked as she headed for the front door.
“Monday morning? You know I’ll be coming back before then.”
“You will?” I tried not to show my excitement.
“I always stop back in for something, don’t I?”
My heart sank. “Yeah, I guess you do.”
“But, I guess that’s the beauty of dating someone in the building.”
“And look at all that time we wasted—trying to keep our sex lives separate from our social lives.”
“Go figure.”
“Yeah, who knew, right?” She was standing in the doorway, waiting to leave. “Anyway, go, get out of here. Have fun, have sex, talk about marriage. Do whatever you and Anthony do. And I’ll see you when I see you.”
“I’ll miss you, Stella Bella Love Bug,” she said, smiling. And then she was gone.
It was probably for the best. With such different work schedules, weekends were like gold to Alison and Anthony. They treasured the time alone together, and I was glad they were able to have it. I just couldn’t stand the loneliness on Saturdays. Guys’ Day. The one day of every week that Izzie and Marcus set aside for Adam, their childhood friend from Center City. Sometimes it bothered me—the fact that Anthony was itching for more quality time with Alison while my own boyfriend was off devoting entire days of his weekend to the guys. But what could I do about it without sounding like one of “those” girlfriends? The kind who can’t let their men have time alone with the guys without breathing down their necks about it. That’s what I felt like the one time I dropped by to meet Adam. I’d expected a warm reception, but all I’d gotten was a lot of nervous energy, like none of them could understand what I was doing there. Needless to say, I never intruded on Guys’ Day again. Izzie said they never did anything special, that it was more about “hanging”—just being able to watch movies, play video games and act dumb. Maybe I’d been dumb for making it out to mean something more, for thinking Izzie had to spend every waking minute with me on the weekends simply because that was what Alison and Anthony did. He enjoyed his days with his buddies. They invigorated him. And I reaped the rewards of his energy. Every Saturday night, he’d come over, completely renewed and itching to “consume” me, which of course meant that he was absolutely starving for sex, which I would always give to him, gladly and repeatedly until dawn. I just wished the hours leading up to that sweet reward weren’t always so shadowed by loneliness.
But how could I really complain? Other than those solitary Saturday afternoons, my life was a dream come true. I had made it. I’d made it through Blanche, my father, that night in my room with Kevin. I’d even gotten over John Lixner. Well, almost. Seeing his name in the bookstore that day had honestly thrown me for a loop, sent my heart pounding, turned my knees to jelly. My reaction to his picture had been even worse. But how could I not fall in love again, seeing his eyes? How could I not wonder if it was a sign? I had just wrapped my heart around somebody new, for the first time since John. Izzie was the only guy I could ever see myself falling in love with, aside from the boy who’d first taught me what love was. And now, here was that boy again, only older, haunting my happiness from the back of a book. So, I’d e-mailed him, figuring there was no harm in e-mailing an old friend, even if I was falling for somebody new, even if John was so much more than an old friend. But the message was returned to me—“user unknown.” I realized that he must’ve changed e-mail addresses without even bothering to tell me. Then again, we hadn’t e-mailed each other in two years. And perhaps it was just as well. Maybe that was my sign—the fact that I couldn’t reach him. And I really shouldn’t have even tried. Because I had wrapped my heart around somebody new and he was wonderful.
I’d made it through so many rough spots, including Tony, the big bang that snapped me out of my slut phase and sparked my evolution with Izzie. And now I was exactly where I needed to be. Even everyday living felt magical.
“Sometimes—there’s God—so quickly!” Vivien Leigh immortalized these words in A Streetcar Named Desire. Izzie gave them meaning for me. We were in bed one night at the end of July, listening to the rain, when he said he never thought his life could be that perfect.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, becoming shy. “I just never thought…” He rolled over onto his side. “My parents’ marriage was shit. And almost every guy I know complains about his girlfriend.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I never complain about you, Stella. Not even on Guys’ Day.”
“Well, I’m glad.”
It was Saturday night, and still early. Our conversation had only been a break. There was still a lot more of me to consume. As we started getting into it again, Izzie whispered something in my ear. It didn’t register at first, but once it had, I heard Vivien Leigh, loud and clear, making me cry. He told me that he would die for me.
And there was God, so quickly, just like that. And there was my life—passionate, prosperous and fulfilled. Everything made sense. And order surrounded the heaven I was in. Love didn’t grow only in McIntyre Suites. Warren and Emily, my satellite hearts, were happy, too. All the stars were in line. It only stood to reason that at any minute, they could all come crashing down.