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SLEEP DID NOT COME easily that night as I lay in bed thinking about Ryan and other young men like him who get trapped by the lie that it was okay to have sex whenever you wanted and with whomever was available.
Why was it that so many young people took the bait to succumb to sexual pressure that came at them from every direction they turned? I blamed the parents. If the parents were not so busy chasing the almighty dollar then they would have more time to raise their children, to teach them wrong from right and to encourage responsible behavior. But that is the stuff of fairy tales – and Amish societies.
Lately, everything that was happening around me reminded me of the promise I had made to myself before hitting puberty. The reminders reinforced what I believed to be true for me. It was like having emotional surgery to excise negative thoughts and behaviors and to encourage the more positive and healthy ones to shine forth. I welcomed each memory that surfaced after Ryan’s tale and tried to put the painful ones to death once and for all.
Her name was Solange. She was four years older than me and she lived around the corner from my family’s home. We became good friends. I do not remember how that happened but I was glad that it did. We did everything together: from mundane things like going to the grocery to more serious things like going as her date to her company functions. I was totally at ease with her as she was with me.
Her good friend was Melanie whom I had met on one occasion when a group of us had gone to the movies together – Sleepless in Seattle I think it was. I considered it a chick flick, but it was a chick’s birthday so the guys among us just relaxed and tolerated the movie. I ended up loving the movie so much that I secretly bought the DVD so I could watch it over and over.
Melanie had what I liked in a woman at that time. She was tall and slender, with fair skin, light brown hair that fell a few inches above her waist, a broad smile and dimples on both her cheeks. She had a powerful voice that commanded her listeners’ attention and yet it was easy on the ears. But I think it was her sense of confidence that made her stand out.
“Melanie wants to know all about you,” Solange said to me the day after the movie. “What should I tell her?”
“Whatever you do, make it interesting.” We were grocery shopping for Solange and she was guiding the cart for I had never mastered the art of manipulating it to keep it from running into other people’s carts. It was a wonder that I had gotten my driver’s license.
“She wants to know if you have a girlfriend.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t then. I might miss out on the greatest thing to happen to me.”
I did not say anything then but for the first time Solange turned cold when I expressed interest in another woman. Certainly she couldn’t be jealous. We were buddies after all. Nevertheless our little shopping expedition came to an abrupt end.
I talked endlessly with Melanie after that. Every free moment we could spare, we spent together. I was basking in the sunshine of a new friendship with a woman and I was feeling things I had not felt naturally in a while. It was amazing – gratifying. But as I pursued love, my friendship with Solange began to suffer.
“Are you doing thing with Melanie?” I was speechless as it took a while for the childish expression for sexual intercourse – “doing thing” – to register.
“No. You know that I’m not like that, Sole.”
“You spend so much time with her now. I don’t ever see you.”
“She’s my girlfriend. Be happy for me.”
Solange was anything but happy for me. She turned sour whenever she saw me together with Melanie and usually made some flimsy excuse to disappear. I felt a good friendship dying but I allowed it to atrophy. If it were meant to prosper, then it would without any intervention from me. I believed that even though friends change it did not mean that we had to change friends; and I also believed that people come into our lives for a reason or a season and I was curious to see to which category Solange belonged.
On the few occasions that I went out with Solange it was like rekindling the old times. We talked and laughed and played as if we were the only two people on the planet. Our friendship felt as comfortable as my pillow, or my bed that had now taken on the shape of my body, as warm as the clean sun-dried sheets on a cold night. And I was happy that Solange was still a cherished friend.
I had not realized that all this time Melanie was sharpening her claws and ugly horns were growing on top of her head. It was Carnival time and the group was meeting at one of the more popular clubs for what was called a cooler fete. This meant that one paid the cover charge and entered the club with one’s cooler filled with whatever beverages one wanted to drink that night. There was just one rule: no glass bottles were allowed. The proprietors were aware that in drunken revelry it was possible for people to turn violent and use glass bottles as weapons. I was glad for that rule that night.
Since Solange lived close to me it made sense for us to ride together. But when we showed up at the fete, the whole group turned around and looked at us as if we had just walked out of a science fiction movie and we were the hostile aliens. Someone shoved a plastic cup with some kind of alcoholic beverage in my hand and I took it.
“Hey, guys.” Everyone busied themselves with their drinks. Melanie walked away and I followed her. “Is something wrong?”
She pulled her hand away and kept walking in the direction of the ladies’ room. One of the other guys, Michael, came up behind me.
“It didn’t look too good for you to come to the fete with Solange.”
“We shared a ride. My car is by the mechanic.”
“I know that. As a guy you were just doing the practical thing. But I think Melanie would have preferred that you find a way to get up by her so that the two of you could have come together.”
I considered what Michael had said. It made sense. Melanie was my girlfriend. I was supposed to do mad, stupid things for her – like begging, borrowing or stealing a car to pick her up and take her home after the party – just so that I could show her that I really cared for her and I wanted to be around her.
I swallowed whatever was in the cup. It burned my throat on the way down to my stomach as I went in search of Melanie. I found her on the fringes of the crowd. She was seething.
“I’m sorry. I was not thinking.”
“People are talking, Clay. People are saying that you’re fucking Solange.”
I was shocked more by the cuss word that had just escaped her lips than by her accusation. “I am tired of this. You will have to choose between us.”
“Solange is my friend. Nothing is going on between us.”
“How can I be sure?”
“How can I be sure that nothing is going on between you and Michael? You spend so much time with him.”
“We work together.”
“And your point is? Look, Mel, if we are going to be together, we have to trust each other. We will always be surrounded by people we might be attracted to, or who will be attracted to us, but if we are committed to each other, then we will be all right.”
“So you’re attracted to that bitch?”
I was sure that it was the alcohol talking for I had never heard my sweet Melanie use words like that before.
Fate can sometimes be cruel. That moment was one of those times. Solange couldn’t have picked a worse juncture to interrupt us.
“You guys okay here?”
“We’ll –” I started to say, but Melanie jumped in.
“Why can’t you find your own man and leave mine alone?”
“Excuse me?”
“Leave my man alone, Solange. Both of you were good once, but I am here now. So just leave us to hell alone.”
“I am your friend, Melanie, and –”
And with that, Melanie jumped on Solange. I stood motionless. What’s really going on? Are they fighting? They are friends. They are my friends and we just do not fight with each other – or with anyone else as a matter of fact. We are adults. Someone else sprang into action. Some other faceless men pulled them away from each other while they screamed obscenities that left me in a daze. Mindlessly, I reached for another drink to bolster my spirit.
I followed Melanie outside and just looked at her as she calmed herself. She was a different creature from the one I knew and loved and, in that moment, she was as repugnant as the bile that was rising in my throat. I turned and walked away in search of a taxi. I’d had more excitement than I’d bargained for in one night and I desperately wanted to go home.
However, fate was not finished with me that night for as I stood on the main street I knew fully well that the chance of getting a taxi was as good as my chance of living in Buckingham Palace. Solange pulled up and without hesitation I jumped in the car.
We said nothing to each other all the way home until she pulled up in front of her house.
“I am sorry about tonight. I have never seen that side of Melanie.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
She opened her door. “You want to spend the night?”
Something inside told me that was not a good idea but I felt the need for company then – not just any company, but someone who understood what I was going through. We entered her home and headed straight to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, took out two cans and handed one to me. I knew that I should have refused but we were in this mess together – for better or for worse. We sat at the little wooden table and drank and talked about what had just transpired, neither one understanding how or why it had gone so far. Our eyes grew heavy and our words began to slur. Solange led me by the hand to her bedroom.
I had been in Solange’s room before but tonight it felt different. When she changed into her oversized cotton sleep shirt it was strangely exhilarating.
Suppose this was the woman for me and I had made the wrong choice? Weren’t there countless songs about people missing love when it was right under their noses?
Solange plopped herself in bed and patted the spot next to her for me to join her. The quiet minutes that followed were tense as we lay on our backs waiting for someone to break the silence.
“I love you, Clay,” she slurred. “I’ve always loved you. I just don’t understand how you could have chosen Melanie over me. I was always here for you. Why didn’t you choose me?”
I swallowed hard. “We were friends, Sole. I didn’t want to spoil it.”
“Don’t you find me attractive?” She giggled.
“I never really – hic – thought of you in those – hic – ahh, those – those terms.”
She propped herself on an elbow and looked at me for a long minute. Then she sat up and removed the shirt. She was naked underneath. “What do you think of me now?”
I stared at her nipples – all four of them. I closed my eyes, opened them wide and looked again. Now I was seeing two nipples. Strange. I reached out my hands to touch them. I saw Solange’s face contort. She seemed to be in pain. I rose up and leaned towards her. She backed away. Why was she doing that? Was she afraid of me? Why had she invited me to her bed then – and taken off her shirt, tempting me with her goodies? The last thing I remembered was lunging at her and pinning her under me. I must have been more tired than I realized because the next thing I knew, it was morning.
Solange stirred next to me and as I tried to ease myself from her bed, I felt her hand pulling me back.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Why don’t you stay for breakfast? You can make me some.” I welcomed her humor.
I remained seated on her bed wondering if anything had happened between us. Reading my mind, she sat behind me and rubbed my shoulders.
“Nothing happened, Clay. Relax.”
I nodded, relieved. But it was short-lived.
There was an insistent pounding on the front door of Solange’s apartment and she asked me to answer it. I obliged but was horrified to see Melanie on the other side when I opened it. Michael had brought her.
“I knew you would have spent the night here. I knew I couldn’t trust you or that whore.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Everybody else was seeing it but me.”
“Seeing what?”
“I am the fool. I was the trusting one. I was so damn naïve.”
“Nothing happened, Mel. I swear it. Ask Solange.”
“That would convince me. We’re done, Clay. I never want to see you again.”
I felt no need to run after her. If she wanted to get all bent out of shape and not trust me, maybe I was better off without her. If she was so insecure as to not trust me around other women, then she was doing me a favor by walking away. But Michael had to pour salt in my wounds.
“You’re a jackass, Clay, to let a fine woman like that get away from you.”
“If you think she is so fine, you can have her.”
“I already did. Last night. And I think I will again.”
My inner demons took control of my hands and they connected with Michael’s back just where his kidneys were. He fell and I stood over him, fists clenched, my jaws clamped, my chest rising and falling in symphony with my heartbeat. I did not see him getting up, so blinded was I by my own rage at Melanie’s betrayal.
He grabbed my feet and took me down so that I fell on my butt with him on top of me, and he punched me on every part of my body that was not shielded by my hands.
“Stop it! Get off him! Get off!” I heard Solange shrieking as she hit Michael with a long object. The blows stopped and the victor stood up, kicked me one last time for good measure and walked out.
Solange helped me up and offered to ice my bruised body. I chose to go home and nurse my wounds myself in the safety of my own room.
I had never been unfaithful to Melanie yet she had horned me. She had cheated on me. She was unfaithful to me. None of the terms softened the blow. How could someone profess undying love to you in one breath and in the same breath give herself to someone else? I had seen my father do it to my mother, my brothers do it to their wives, my friends do it to their girlfriends, and I had vowed never to do it to the one I was with. There were close calls while I dated Melanie, like the time I went to the beach with some colleagues from work.
We were playing games in the water and the recent addition to the foreign languages department clearly was in heat from the way she was behaving in the surf. We were on opposing teams in our game and whenever she tried to get the ball from me, her hands found themselves all over my body and never on the ball – well, not the beach ball anyway.
Later in the afternoon, as we enjoyed the last rays of sunlight, everyone coupled off and I found myself locked tight in her embrace. I did not want to hurt her feelings by shoving her away. I looked up at another couple a short distance away from us kissing as if their very lives depended on it. She tried to kiss my lips but I just held her closer, pressing my body against hers.
“Tuck in,” she said to me. She wanted me to penetrate her.
My grip on her loosened. “But I hardly know you,” I responded.
“You have to be quick if you want to go places in this world.”
But I didn’t want to go anywhere with this girl. “Let’s not spoil this friendship,” I said, and let go of her. “We’d better get going.”
I never told Melanie about that girl. Nor did I tell her about the time that I had slept in another woman’s bed, but there had been nothing sexual about it. We did just that: we slept. Even when Solange had seemed to be making sexual advances towards me, I told her that I had chosen Melanie and I resisted. But Melanie had been unfaithful to me and I vowed that no matter what she said, no matter how much she pleaded to get back with me, I was never going to forgive her.
Who knew what lesson that was preparing me for?
