Beautiful Illusions (8 page)

“You’re a regular MacGyver.”

I had to laugh at that one. “MacGyver” is a word that I often use for people who are resourceful and are able to create things out of everyday household items. I realized that the fact that we were close in age was a plus, as we both get the same pop-cultural references
.

“Yes, a drink MacGyver. You’d be amazed at the things that you can put together if you really make an effort.”

He smiled again, wanly, then sipped the last of his MacGyver cocktail. I sat down next to him, obsessing about the garbage bag of wine bottles, and, more importantly, obsessing about the dead roses in the smashed wine bottle. The roses were dead, and that wasn’t a problem – it’d been almost a week. But I never bothered to buy a vase for them. The inescapable conclusion was that I just didn’t care.

I took his cup. “Would you like another?” I asked, moving towards the kitchen
. Surreptitiously, I grabbed the roses out of the smashed wine bottle, then threw the bottle away. I crammed the roses themselves in a drawer, and started to pour another drink.

“Actually, it’s pretty late.”

“Sure, you’re right. Um, I would give you my bed….”
Oh, please, act like you really don’t want the bed. I know that it would be the kind thing to do, but, trust me, that room is a holy mess.

Well, I could always just throw the clothes on the bed into the closet and shut the door. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

“No, I can’t put you out like that.”

“Really, it isn’t a problem,” I lied.

He looked up at me. “I hope that it isn’t too forward to ask if we could sleep together in your bed? I mean, I promise I won’t try anything. I know that we started out as a one-night stand, but I really want us to be about something other than sex.”

“Not a problem,” I lied, hoping that I wasn’t g
ritting my teeth as I said it. “Uh, do you mind waiting here? I have to use the bathroom.” The only bathroom in the apartment was attached to my bedroom, so it was a great excuse to do a whirlwind cleaning job.

“Sure.”

At that, I ran into the bedroom and shut the door behind me.
Shit, shit, shit.
I took the entire pile of clothes off the bed, and threw them into the closet on the floor.
That takes care of that.
I realized that I hadn’t vacuumed in there for awhile.
Oh, Iris, what’s your problem? You aren’t usually this messy.
Then I remembered my profound depression that week.
No excuse. You have to do better than this.
Still, without the pile of clothes on the bed, the room was passable.
You will just have to figure out later what is clean and what is dirty.

Oh, who am I kidding. It’s all dirty by now.

The clothes crisis resolved, I returned to my earlier obsession – my weight. Looking in my full-view mirror, I noticed that I had lost some weight this past week, but not nearly enough. Now I was only 25 lbs overweight, not 30 lbs, but on somebody 5’2”, that is a lot.
Stop. There is nothing that can be done about it. Ryan is out there waiting.

I came back out, a
nd Ryan stood up, expectantly. I smiled nervously.
My nerves were back.
“Uh, come on back.”

“Thanks for accommodating me on such short notice.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m thrilled to have you.”

We lay down on the bed, fully
clothed, on top of the covers. Ryan lay behind me, one arm wrapped tightly around my waist, his free hand gently stroking my hair. “Mmmm, this feels nice,” he said. “Really nice.” He reached his face around and kissed me gently on the mouth with little feathery kisses. I immediately felt his erection after the kiss, through his pants, even though his pants were somewhat loose, as they were suit trousers. He self-consciously turned his body slightly so that his lower half was no longer pressed up against me. “Sorry about that,” he said.

I lay there quietly, afraid to speak. I hoped that he thought that I had just magically fallen asleep. I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed
.

He just lay there next to me, his lower half facing the ceiling, his torso still pressed up against me, his fingers still stroking my hair, his other arm still wrapped tightly around me. “Beautiful hair,” he purred.
“I’ve always loved redheads.” His lower half remained facing the ceiling. I could feel his breathing, could feel his heart pounding. When he kissed me, his breath tasted of Dewar’s. He smelled of a very faint cologne. My breath was catching, and I was trembling. His hands never explored my body. I could tell that he was trying very hard to be a gentleman, but I really wanted his hands to explore my breasts and my private parts. I wanted his kisses on my thighs, back, neck. But we both were trying to behave.
With any luck, there’ll be plenty of time for that in the future.

Still, it was nice to know that I turn him on. The evidence was certainly there.
I fell asleep with Ryan wrapped around me, except his lower body.

I had never felt so safe.

The next morning, I woke up fairly early. Ryan’s entire body was now wrapped around me. He was still sleeping soundly. I attempted to extricate myself, as I had to use the bathroom, but, when
I tried, Ryan held on tighter. He was mumbling. “Stop, stop, daddy. Daddy, please.” I didn’t quite know what to do.
What was he dreaming?

This guy was b
ecoming ever more complicated. But I knew that I was at least starting to fall for him, and not because of his beauty and apparent wealth. I was falling for him more for his kindness.

He woke with a start, looking at me, not
quite seeing me. Then he plopped back down on the bed, pulling the covers around him, facing the wall. I seized the opportunity to use the bathroom at that point. I then tiptoed into the kitchen.
Might as well tidy up while he sleeps.

As it turned out, I only had about a half hour to get my dishes in the dishwasher, the kitty litter changed, and my bag of wine bottles, with the old kitty litter mixed in, hauled out to the dumpster.
So much for the recycling dream. I’ll start again with the next batch of wine bottles.

Ryan appeared, still fully clothed
.

“Hey,” I greeted him, Ajax coating the kitchen sink, a
nd me scrubbing it diligently. My dishes were now in the dishwasher, which was humming quietly.

“Hey.” He looked beautiful, more than ever, because he no
w had a look of vulnerability. “I’m sorry about last night.”

I looked at him.
Sorry about what? I hope he wasn’t apologizing for his erection. Probably not, he is probably apologizing for coming over so late.
“Um, don’t worry about it.” That covered anything that he would be apologizing for.

“No, no. I was pretty shitty, coming over here in the middle of the night.”

I smiled. “Better late than never.”

“I, I should have called you.”

“Please, don’t mention it.” I looked in my fridge and found some turkey bacon. I also had some eggs and a tube of biscuits.
That should do it. It’s not a cheese strata and berries with cream, but it will do in a pinch.

I cut the turkey bacon in half, then started to fry it. “I hope you like turkey bacon.”

He smiled. “Actually, I love it. I like it better than regular bacon.”

“Me too.” I was half expecting him to make some excuse to dash out the door, realizing that he made a huge mistake in coming here, so I was relieved that he wanted to stay for breakfast.

“Can I help?”

“No, I got it.” After the bacon was done, I poured the eggs into the same pan, adding a little bit of olive oil
and minced garlic to the pan. I had already put my Pillsbury biscuits in the oven, and they were almost done. I dug into my freezer and opened up a can of orange juice concentrate, and squeezed it into a container, adding water to mix it up.

Everything finished, I produced two plates - I had to interrupt the dishwasher cycle to get them- and piled some bacon, eggs, and biscuits on each plate. I set the plates down on the counter, and then got two TV trays out for us to eat on
.

“Sorry,” I said, feeling embarrassed again, “I don’t have room for a dining room table, so I have to eat on these TV trays.”

He smiled, sincerely - the first sincere smile I have seen in awhile, to be honest. “Not a problem.”

As we ate, I was dying to ask him a million questions. About his ex-wife, about his therapist, about Sheldon (the non humper and pumper). About Nick
. Most of all, about his dream.
What did his father do to him?

“So, what are you up to today?” Ryan asked.

Besides laundry? 
“No real plans.”

He seemed suddenly shy. “Would you, uh, like to hang out?” he asked, not looking me in the eye.
He seems afraid of rejection.

“Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I chose the last activity. Your turn.” His face was instantly brightened.

“Um, well, let’s see….How about we pack up a picnic basket with some roasted chicken, some bread and some wine and take it out t
o the park by the art gallery? I think that there is a Shakespeare play there tonight. Let me look in the paper….” I brought out the paper, turning to the art section. “Yes, see,
Twelfth Night
is playing.”

“I love that play!”

And we were off. I drove him to his car, just up the street, and he followed me back to my apartment complex so that I could drive with him in his car to the park. We stopped by the Hen House to pick up a roasted chicken, and I packed the chicken into a picnic basket that I had picked up at a thrift store a few years back. We also picked up some roasted new potatoes and roasted green beans. A bottle of Two Buck Chuck completed the meal, along with a small loaf of bread. I had also packed an Indian blanket, but we had to stop by his house to pick up two small lawn chairs for the evening performance. Also, Ryan wanted to check on Maximus and Brutus, and change his clothes, of course. He was still wearing his dress pants, silk shirt and Ferragamo shoes from the night before.

“Daniel checks on them when I am away, but I want to see them for at
least a little bit before we go,” Ryan said, referring to the dogs.

“Why don’t we bring them along?” I remembered that dogs were welcome in that park.

“Sounds great.” So, when we stopped by his house, Maximus and Brutus were harnessed. They leaped about, excited to be going. He also got two lawn chairs. “Um, we better take the Escalade.”
Another Escalade? I thought, remembering his driver also drove an Escalade.
We went into the garage, and Ryan packed the dogs, in their carriers, into the Escalade, along with the two chairs, and the picnic basket filled with goodies.

Driving to the park, Ry
an held my hand the whole way. Every other stoplight, he kissed me softly. I watched his groin, remembering last night’s erection.
I hope that isn’t a problem now.
However, it became evident that it was. There wasn’t much hiding it, the guy seemed enormous. I privately worried about that, but felt excited at the same time.

He blushed. “I better stop that for awhile.”

I blushed, too. I no longer was obsessed about what he saw in me. He saw something in me, that I didn’t see in myself, and that was that.
Stop obsessing.
But the memory of the week when I thought that I would never see him again haunted me.
This could all go away at any moment. He is apparently dealing with a nasty ex-wife, and possibly other, deeper, issues, and he might be rebounding. And he might even have a girlfriend. Be cautious.

We got to the park, and tossed around a frisbee and a ball for the dogs. “How old are they?” I asked.

“Maximus is 2, and Brutus is around 8 months.”

“No wonder they’re so frisky.”

“Frisky is not the word. Spastic, hyper – those are good words.”

And indeed they were
.

We lay the blanket out on the lawn, and then got out the paper plates, and plastic cups. He poured some wine for us both, and I broke apart the chicken. “Is a leg ok?” I asked.

“A leg would be great.”

I piled a chicken leg, about four new potatoes and a spoonful of green beans on the plate
.

Ryan produced two pillows after our lunch, and he lay down on one of the pillows. At his urging, I laid my head on his stomach. I felt his eight pack beneath me without an ounce of fat
. His body was sinewy, muscular and lean. He stroked my hair contentedly. “I never thought I could feel this way,” he purred.

“What way?”

“Happy, fulfilled.”

I played a little dumb. “But you were married.”

“Yeah,” he said, simply. “But I never felt like this with her.”

“Then why did you get married?”
A logical question.

“Shhhh.”

I kept quiet. The mystery will remain for now.