I'm with Stupid (12 page)

Max cuts her off: “Do it! Sleep with him!” He hits my shoulder. “It’ll put Richard in total perspective!”

Libby pauses and crosses her legs. “You know,” she adds, a twinkle in her eye, “this could be like that movie
How Stella Got Her Groove Back
.” I lift an eyebrow. “Well, it could,” she says, giggling. “She got together with a hot guy on vacation after getting dumped or something. I’ve been meaning to rent it for like four years. It looks cute.”

Max tells me I’ll regret it if I don’t maximize this opportunity—people who have never met me will regret it. Life is too short not to find out how long William’s penis actually is. I consider the advice. The thought of walking back to my room and never seeing William again is in fact tragic. I light a cigarette. “You guys really think I should invite him back to the room?” I ask, not quite believing that I’m even talking seriously about this. “Isn’t that cheesy?”

“Yes, do it! Yes!” Max shouts. He’s like a town crier having an orgasm. “You’re cheesy, so have a cheap thrill already! What’s the harm? Loosen up. I will not let you go through life regretting this. This and the buffalo will make such a great vacation story. I could tell it for years! This is not the time to think. It’s the time to act!”

I hear a noise and put out my cigarette. “Keep your voice down, trumpeter,” I say, looking behind me. “Here comes William.”

William walks onto the porch, back in uniform. Maybe he doesn’t own regular clothes. He takes a seat next to me. I smell the air and my eyes widen. He put on cologne. It’s subtle but I can smell it. It smells great. He put on cologne to impress me! That is so adorable. He is so adorable. Max sniffs the air and yawns loudly. “Wow! I’m exhausted,” he lies. “I’m so off to bed. Can’t keep my eyes open. I’m out of it.” When Libby just sits there, staring at William, he hits her shoulder, which is when she begins yawning, too. Take it easy, I think to myself.

William is puzzled by this sudden change. “I thought you said you were wide awake,” he says to her. “Didn’t you say you want to have a drink?” Max shakes his head no, then again slaps her shoulder. “Mosquito,” he says to William when she begins rubbing the spot where he hit her. He takes the empty brandy decanter from the table and places it under his chair. He gets up, wishes us a good night, then reaches into his pocket and tosses something at me. “There’s your chewing gum,” he explains as I catch it, “you left it by the pool.” I look down at what’s in my hand. A condom. A condom! Oh Jesus! I tighten my fist around it and smile weakly at William.

“I left my gum by the pool,” I blankly repeat, squeezing the crunchy wrapper. William nods and asks if he can have a piece.

Max clears his throat. “You can have a big piece in just a little while, William,” he says with a serious face. “Hold your horses.” He taps Libby on the back of the head. “You’re tired now, go to bed,” he flatly reminds her before stepping off her porch. He races to his chalet before William can get up to walk him. “Ye-aaaah, tired,” Libby says tentatively, trying to keep up with the pace. She attempts another fake yawn. Before I know it she’s inside her chalet, door closed. William and I are alone for the first time.

I look at the ashtray on the table. My cigarette is smoldering. I tell William that I’m going back to my chalet. He hesitates. I begin to ramble that he can join me if he’d like but of course he doesn’t have to because it’s no big deal because we can just stay here on Libby’s porch and have a platonic talk because we need to sit down because sitting is good. I squeeze the condom wrapper like a stress ball. It doesn’t have to be more than—

He cuts me off and says thank you.

I start to get up, my cheeks flushed from too much brandy, when I hear a scream coming from Libby’s room. William immediately jumps to his feet and puts out his arm to stop me from getting any closer to her door. “It could be a wild animal!” he exclaims. Libby’s door flies open before he can save the day. Out runs Manuel. “I misinterpreted your advances!” Manuel shouts over his shoulder and keeps running. “You must remember that love and hate are equiponderant!”

Libby reemerges. I watch Manuel’s slight figure disappear among the trees. He’d better hope that buffalo isn’t still out there. “He was hiding under my bed,” she sourly explains before slamming the door. Bang—the only bang Manuel will get tonight.

William seems a little overwhelmed when I bring him back to my chalet. Convinced he needs assurance, I ramble that he should make himself comfortable. I’m just going to change—it’s no big deal.

I go into the bathroom and close the door. He smells so good, I think, leaning up against it. I take a look in the mirror. I run a brush through my hair, pat my cheeks, check my teeth for spinach. Everything looks as good as it’s going to. I change into a white T-shirt and gray cotton shorts. Innocuous enough. Before opening the door I visualize Max’s face and recall his carefree words, offered with a
what’s the big deal
wave of the hand: “What’s the harm? Loosen up.”

When I step out of the bathroom William is lying on my bed in a pair of tighty whities. His khaki uniform has been folded neatly on a chair. He definitely made himself comfortable. He smiles, I smile. We are mirror images of each other. I lie down, he lies down. I stare into his eyes, he stares into mine. What’s the harm in this?

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi yourself.”

William takes my hand and studies it. I recall the white flower he plucked and considered so earnestly while out on our nature walk. “Your skin is soft,” he whispers. It is? It is. I look at his lips as he looks at my hand. Maybe just one kiss . . . “Look at my hand,” he says, sliding it toward me, palm-side up. “It’s calloused.”

I run my finger across his palm. “I think you have a nice hand,” I offer, then awkwardly add: “You saved us with this hand.”

He looks at me, looks at me, looks at me, then tells me he would like to kiss me but isn’t sure if it would be okay. I look even deeper into his eyes: I think it would be okay. William leans in and kisses me. He kisses me the way I’ve always wanted to be kissed. The way every woman, I can only imagine, deserves to be kissed. Perfectly. He kisses me perfectly. And then he pulls away, for just a moment, and says, in the meekest voice I will ever hear: “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”

I can’t believe this. What the hell would you do? “I’m just doing what you’re doing, William.”

He kisses me again. He’s really good at this! Shoulder, earlobe, neck—William is touching them as if my female form is the first he’s known. Maybe it’s the brandy but out of nowhere I find myself confessing that I want to have sex but that I’m afraid: We just met. William puts his arm around my waist and tells me we don’t have to have sex. I look at the clock. It’s late. “I love this part of your body,” he whispers, putting his hand against the small of my back. I arch it as he touches me.

As we continue touching each other like we have all the time in the world it occurs to me that we have no time at all. In the morning I will be gone. I will get in a car and never see this person again. This person who has made me forget, for just one second longer than anyone else, all about the dishonesty that passes for courtship. Will he call, won’t he? Who cares anyway? Let’s hope he doesn’t. He’s usually doing you a favor by not calling. And now, here in South Africa, with William, a man with the honest-to-goodness innocence and curiosity of a child, none of that matters. None of it matters and I, for one, am grateful. William is making me forget, and for that I will always remember him. How romantic . . .

Wait, though, did William say we don’t have to have sex? Don’t have to have sex! Of course we have to have sex. We need to be having it right now! This instant! There is no time to lose! Hurry! Sex for everybody, I’m buying! Sex, sex, banging sex . . . one door closes as another opens. How fortuitous! (Sorry, Manuel.) “Maybe we can try having sex for just one minute,” I say. “I just want to see what it will feel like. Just for a minute.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am. Just for a second.”

William gently rests my head on the pillow and looks deep into my eyes: “I want you to know that I’ve never m—” I put my finger to his lips. I don’t need to be reminded that he’s never met anyone like me. If he says it again I’ll get suspicious. It sounds too much like what Richard said. I kiss him as he presses himself against me . . .

Wow, this is nice. This is real nice. What a kisser. It’s like licking honey . . . which William knows how to make, by the way. Kiss me again, William. Kiss all you want. Kiss me until . . . but where are you going? Don’t leave. Is it over already? I need you to kiss me once more . . . oh, that’s where you went. Hello. Well, that isn’t bad, either. Not at all. Wow. Did I already say wow? This time I mean it. Okay, you’re definitely a good kisser. Sure are. Oh. Uh. Yes, sir. I like this. I do like this. This I like so very . . . ooh, yeah. What a wonderful vacation. Spectacular. South Africa is a magical place, just like Helga said. And come to think of it, she isn’t so bad. She’s wonderful, actually. I mean she’s just doing her job. Everyone’s wonderful. Helga, Manuel, my mailman. I love people! All kinds, every nationality. Uh. I love them, I do. Oh. And the trees and the flowers and my toaster. Even mice and snakes. What’s wrong with snakes? And speaking of snakes, I’m just going to ask William to rejoin me up here so I can see something. Just for a second. I’m curious . . . I’m going to reach down . . . Hal-le-lu-jah! Hal-le-lu-jah! HallelujahHallelujahHallelujah, Hal-le-lu-jaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!

Holy

Toledo,

what

a

fucking

torpedo.

William is dressed before the sun comes up. He can’t take the chance of getting caught but assures me that he will be there later in the day with the rest of the staff to see me off. I’m not sure how this happened but I have a tear in my eye. Just one, but there it is. I wipe it with the back of my hand. I’m going to miss this guy. He gave me quite an orgasm. And damn is he hot!

William reaches into his breast pocket. “I don’t have much experience with women,” he confesses, “I’ve only had two girlfriends, but I know that I at least want to stay in touch.” He hands me a card. Two girlfriends? They must have taught him a lot of moves. I look down at the card. It’s an official Akuji Game Reserve business card with William’s e-mail address typed at the bottom. The thought that he does this all the time speeds through my mind like a fire truck. I look up. “I hope you will write to me. We have a computer room here at the lodge,” he explains. “I’ve been carrying the card around wondering if I would ever give it to you.” Well, you gave it to me all right, I think, breathing a sigh of relief.

I open my arms. One hug for the road? William returns my affection. “See you later,” I say when he finally pulls away, “I love you.” William gives me a startled look. I cover my mouth. Okay, that totally slipped out. I bite my lip. Why am I always blurting crap? I’m just used to saying that. I say it to my parents all the time. I say it to Max and Libby. It’s a figure of speech. “Sorry,” I offer. “That was embarrassing. I didn’t—” William silently looks at his watch. Now he really must go. Damn! That was absolutely the by-product of fatigue. He looked at me like I was nuts, and who could blame him?

As soon as he leaves I fall back into bed and close my eyes. So sleepy—and yet so satisfied! Sorry I ruined it for him by declaring my love. Oops. At least it happened on the last day. God, what a loser I am.

Later that morning Libby and Max race into the chalet. “Did you do the deed?” Max shouts. I open one eye. He begins pulling my shoulder out of the socket as if he were opening a car window while Libby aggressively jumps around my legs with all her might. My mattress is her trampoline—and it’s the closest she’ll ever come to getting on one. She must be drawing from a tremendous stockpile of fossil fuel for this delirious effort. It’s like the power surge before the blackout. “Walk me through it!” Max begins to shout. “No, I take that back, walk me through it slowly! Very slowly! I need a Power-Point presentation, I need diagrams and video stills! I need every groan and measurement! I’ll pretend I’m you”—he lies down next to me—“and you ravage me! Just ravage me! Do it before I change my mind!” I open the other eye. Max frowns at me disappointedly. Not sultry enough for him? “I changed my mind,” he says. “Don’t bother ravaging me. But I still need you to get up and do all the other stuff. I put a glass to your door last night but it didn’t help. I need to know everything right now. Now! I can’t wait. Don’t make me pull your hair.”

Libby takes one more ambitious jump and thunders down on top of the bed. Someone help her. She moans and rubs her forehead. It’s quite possible she’s losing consciousness and entering a parallel universe.

I sit up, feeling like the high school quarterback who just sexed up the varsity cheerleader. Max pulls my hair. So that’s how it’s going to be? “Fine, have it your way,” I tell him, relishing the attention. “The truth is as plain as the big nose on your face . . .” Max pulls my hair again. “He has, if you really must know, the most . . .” Max pulls my hair a third time. “. . . fabulous . . .” Max pulls my hair a fourth time. I pinch his nostrils and tell him to stop pulling my hair. “He has the most fabulous”—I pull Max’s hair as he pinches my nostrils—“dick I have ever seen.”

“I knew it!” he yells, almost tearing off my face. “I knew you couldn’t resist him!”

He turns to Libby and sticks out his hand. “Pay up. Told you she’d lay him.” Libby reaches into her pocket and pulls out a five-dollar bill.

I give up the details, as requested: uncircumcised, briefs not boxers, long, smooth . . .

“How wide?” Libby asks.

I demonstrate how wide.

“Wow,” she says.

“Good one,” he says approvingly. “Packing a little heat there.”

Libby laments the fact that the last two guys she slept with had penises the size of gherkins. I pat her on the back. Size doesn’t matter. Who’s the jerk that told her it does? That was silly.

Max spots William’s business card on the side table next to my bed. He reaches for it as I describe the smooth texture of William’s skin to an enraptured Libby. “What’s this?” Max asks, holding it up. I explain that it’s William’s card, which he gave me before leaving this morning. Max chuckles. “He gave you his card?” he asks with a grin. I nod and ask what’s so funny. “Well you have to admit it is funny,” he says, “that’s a total pro move.” He shakes his head. “A card.”