Beware of Love in Technicolor (10 page)

“What do I know?” he yelled, arms still waving, though with resignation instead of indignation now. “I’m just here to deliver a pizza.” And then he fell asleep.

It was brilliant.

***

On my nineteenth birthday, in early November, John took me to the expensive restaurant at the university hotel. I wore a very slinky green dress, and a pair of black heels. John cleaned up nicely. He looked comfortable in a suit, and knew how to tie a tie. It was the first time I saw him in anything other than his Docs.

We had been fooling around for about a month at this point, and I was more than ready to keep things moving along. Being nineteen, I was physically and emotionally ready to give up my virginity. Looking back now, I am grateful for the awkward, chubby high school years that shielded me from having to deal with too much, too soon.

My memories of dinner are hazy. Candlelight, a roaring fire in the massive stone fireplace in the middle of the restaurant. The clinking of glassware, and soft, romantic music floating above the din of quiet conversation. We felt worlds away from the chaos of college life.

“Happy birthday,” John said to me when the waiter placed a decadent looking piece of chocolate cake in front of me. He kissed me gently, and set a small, light blue box with a white ribbon on the table next to the cake. He laughed when my eyes nearly fell out of my head.

“I knew you’d appreciate the box,” he said with a smile.

“Dinner
and
Tiffanys is better than
Breakfast at Tiffanys
,” I replied, pulling gently on the satin ribbon. Inside was a pair of silver hoop earrings. I quickly replaced my gold posts with the hoops, and kissed him on the cheek.

“I love them,” I said.

“You’re fun to buy things for,” he said, admiring his gift in my ears. “I imagine I’ll be broke by spring break. Now, about that cake...”

I let him feed me the first bite. I closed my eyes and rolled the chocolate on my tongue. But the thought of him seeing me naked interrupted the joy of the moment, and I opened my eyes.

I took the fork from him, smiling. I noticed an older couple two tables from us. The woman, dressed in pale blue, watched us with a wistful expression on her overly made-up face.

When the cake was gone, and the bill was paid, John helped me on with my coat, and we strolled, arm in arm, back to my room at The Pit. Molly had arranged to stay with a friend from crew, so there would be no annoying interruptions.

His conscience had other plans.

Kate Bush was once again wailing through the tiny speakers on my chest of drawers, and candles were flickering on my desk. I sat down on the bed next to him, and draped my legs over his. He untied his tie, slid it out of his collar, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He removed my shoes, and gently ran his hands up my calves to my thighs. When he reached the top of the black silk stockings I had worn under my dress, he pushed me down on the bed, pushed my dress up, and began to slowly remove each stocking, one at a time.

I was ready for this.

It was my birthday. I was nineteen. I was wearing jewelry from Tiffany’s. I was ready for this.

“You are so hot,” he murmured, removing the new pair of black bikinis I had been saving for this occasion. He kicked off his shoes, and I heard them hit the floor.

             
I had been reading Cosmo, and Anais Nin. I was ready for this.,

             
When I felt his tongue on me, I felt the world drop out from under me, and was aware only of the weight of him on my legs and his soft, tender kisses. I let out a moan, and he began kissing me harder, his tongue moving quickly, until I nearly forgot my name.

             
“I love the sounds you make,” he said, breathing heavy. “Your smell, your legs,” he ran his hand down my right leg, and back up my left. “I love that I’m the first one to touch you,” he said, sliding a finger inside me while kissing my navel.

             
He stopped and pulled my dress back into a more demure position, and joined me on the pillow.

             
“I’m so glad you’re going to be my first,” I said softly.

             
His eyes suddenly met mine, and he froze.

             
I was not ready for that.

             
“What?” I asked, the room suddenly coming back into focus.

             
“I can’t do this,” he said, sitting up.

             
“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

             
“Why didn’t you ask me about the weekend I went to UMass?” He was looking at the floor instead of in my eyes. His voice was strained, and thin.

             
“What should I have asked you?” I returned cautiously. We were both sitting up now.

             
“I slept with her, Greer, and you didn’t even care enough to ask.”

             
“I didn’t think I had to,” I said coldly, drawing my legs up underneath me. I sat cross-legged, with my hands balled into tiny little fists in my lap. I felt the anger swelling up inside, and knew there was no sense fighting it. I was on the emotional edge; all I needed was a small push, from any direction.

             
“You asked me if I trusted you,” I stated in my icy manner, waiting for the right time to strike.

             
“I thought you could. I wasn’t strong enough.”

             
“You said it was over.”

             
“It was,” he said. “it is.”

             
“But you still felt the need to fuck her.”

             
“Greer,” he started. But I didn’t give him a chance.

             
“Even with me here waiting for you like some kind of loser, you still felt the need to fuck her. I suppose it was my fault,” I continued. “Am I right? You were just so goddamn frustrated with me and my not putting out, you figured, ‘What the hell? She’ll never know.’”

             
“Greer,” he said again, more weakly this time. He would not meet my angry eyes.

             
“You just didn’t count on liking me so much, did you?” I shot at him.

             
“I’ve liked you since I met you!” he snapped. “I’ve never made a secret of that. But she’s not afraid to say all the things I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Everything you are too damn scared to say.”

             
“We’ve only known each other for two months,” I laughed bitterly. “Don’t feed me that crap. I’m not one of your stupid sluts you can fill up with lies while you stick your hand up my dress.”

“She’s not stupid.”

“What?”

“Abby. She’s not stupid.”

“Fine,” I said. “She’s a very intelligent slut. I’m sure her mother is very proud.” I plucked

the earrings from my ears and threw them on the bed. “Take your guilt gift and get the hell out of here,” I said calmly. “I want nothing more to do with you.”

              I walked to the light switch and flicked on the overhead lamp. I blew out the candles and cut off Kate mid-wail. I was sure my heart was going to leap out of my chest; it was beating so loudly. My face felt flushed, and my knees were weak. Despite my steely demeanor, I wanted to throw myself at him, kiss his lips, his neck. I wanted him to rip my dress off and finish what we had started.

             
“Do you really want me to leave?” he asked softly, resignation in his voice.

             
“No,” I said. “But you have to. I can’t do this. It’s all just too much,” I trailed off, just in time to hold back a surge of tears. I looked at him, and noticed he was as close to crying as I was.

             
I watched in silence as he pulled his shoes on, and handed him his coat. Our eyes locked once more, and he bent down and kissed my cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, but I didn’t move. I didn’t blink.

***

              Four hours later, with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, I sat on the steps of Wyndham, facing the street. It was three in the morning, and hardly a car passed by. The night was very still, and cold. I was still trying to piece together the events of my birthday. How such a perfect night had gone so nuclear.

             
“Is there room on that step for another lost soul?” I heard John’s voice from the sidewalk.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I replied vacantly.

He sat down next to me.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. Especially on

your birthday.”

“Funny way of showing it,” I said flatly. We were both quiet for a while. A neighborhood dog barked, and we heard the slam of a car door.

“You ruined my life, you know,” he said.

“I know.”

“The last thing I wanted when I came to college was a girlfriend.”

“You already had one,” I reminded him.

“We had broken up,” he corrected me. “I was going to be free to sleep with whoever I

wanted, go out with the guys whenever I wanted,” he continued. “And on the first night here...”

              “You met me,” I finished.

             
“I met you.”

             
“And I ruined your life.”

             
              “I knew exactly what I wanted,” he said, the emotion welling up, his voice growing louder and more urgent. “And you are ruining everything!”

             
              I stood up and brushed the pine needles from my jeans. I bent down and kissed the top of his head. I had no intention of making things easy on him. I left him sitting there. I don’t know what time he went home.

***

                            Now, you’d think I would have had a good cry, resigned myself to the impossibility of the relationship, and continued fumbling my way through my first semester of college. Why, for the first time in my life, I did not choose the path of least resistance, I’ll never know.

             
              I think I turned it into a game to avoid dealing with how much it hurt. It hurt to be betrayed. It hurt to let someone inside your life, only to have him stick it in someone else just when you were ready for him. Even though I didn’t know anything about her, I imagined Abby to be perfect, everything that I was not. Planning games and strategy meant I didn’t have to deal with the messy side of my feelings. It made me think I had some control.

             
              On Monday afternoon, four days after my birthday, I finally went to see John. The girls in The Pit were getting sick of taking messages from him, while I pretended to be unavailable. The whiteboard on our door was full of notes urging me to please call him back.

             
              As I stood in front of his room, questioning my decision to be there at all, he opened the door. I hadn’t even knocked yet.

             
              We both jumped back, startled by the sudden appearance of the other.

             
              “Greer,” he said, and smiled. His hair was a mess, and it looked like he had just woken up.

             
              “Hey,” I said slowly. “I was wondering if we could talk?”

             
              “Yeah, of course,” he answered, still standing in the doorway. He looked back into his room, then back to me. “It’s a real mess in here. Can you give me five minutes?”

             
              I nodded.

             
              “I’m hungry,” he said. “Are you hungry? Give me five minutes, and we’ll get some food.”

             
              “Ok,” I said. “I’ll be down at Topher’s. Come get me when you’re ready.” I started walking down the hall.

             
              “Hey Greer,” he called after me. I turned and looked at him. “It’s good to see you,” he said before disappearing into his room.

             
              He was true to his word, and in five minutes he was standing in the doorway of Topher’s room, where we had been discussing the merits of the movie
Xanadu,
and laughing, when John poked his head in.

***

                            “How are you?” he asked me as we walked downtown to a little fry shack called The Claw.

                            “I’m ok,” I said. “You?”