Out of the Dungeon (23 page)

But then there were those times that were not
exactly bliss. The times that Vanessa felt let down or disappointed
when Suede canceled or changed plans at the last minute, or invited
others along on what Vanessa had considered a date. Trouble was,
Vanessa ended up wondering if she had misinterpreted the invitation
in the first place. Accepted something as a romantic date, only to
discover that Suede was bringing along other people, as well.
People Suede flirted with, danced with, and sometimes went home
with. When this happened, Vanessa wanted to be angry, was filled
with righteous indignation, but at the same time wondered with a
feeling almost like shame if she had read too much into it right
from the get go. She didn't want to be that girl, the jealous angry
girl, but she kept finding herself in that position. In her head,
even if she never said anything out loud or acted badly. She
worried that maybe she felt something more real, more intense for
Suede than Suede felt for her. And that made Vanessa a fool, didn't
it? Suede was Vanessa priority, but sometimes she felt like she was
nothing more than Suede's back-up plan. And it sucks to be the
backup plan to someone you're in love with. It didn't feel good at
all. In fact, it felt very, very bad.

The good stress was getting all excited about
having a date with Suede. And the bad stress was the let down when
things didn't go quite the way Vanessa had planned. When maybe her
expectations had been too high.

In a tiny, scared corner of her mind, Vanessa
knew she should back off, distance herself from Suede, face reality
and toughen up. Protect herself. Part of her knew it wasn't a
healthy relationship. But it felt so damn
good
to be in
love. There was an arrogance, a certain satisfied smugness in being
convinced that she saw all sides of Suede, that Suede put on an act
for others, but could be real around Vanessa, when it was good,
when it was bad, and even when it was ugly. Vanessa had an inner
enjoyment, like a secret smile, that when Suede had no one else to
turn to, she turned to Vanessa. Yeah, that. For sure.

When Suede was sober and they were talking on
the phone or having coffee, it was almost like they were the same
inside, like they understood each other on an intimate level. Like
the way it felt when Vanessa heard a perfect song for the first
time and it pulled her spirits up, this rush of amazement, because
someone else not only felt the same, but had the ability to express
it, make it beautiful, and throw it out to the world.

That's what Vanessa felt when she was in the
middle of an intense, amazing conversation with Suede, sharing
their histories, their hurts, totally communing and understanding
each other.
I can't believe I lived my whole life without you.
How did I function? How could I possibly have been happy?

"I've let you in," Vanessa said to Suede, in
a moment of reckless sharing abandon. "Now you have the ability to
shatter me."

"You're safe, girl," Suede assured her,
"because I never will."

But of course, it wasn't true. Suede hurt
Vanessa in a thousand tiny ways, although she wasn't even aware
that she was doing so. And yet. It wasn't rocket science. They had
a date on Friday, and planning the date was fun, but worrying that
Suede was going to sabotage it somehow kept Vanessa figuratively on
the edge of her seat.

Vanessa had invited Suede to sleep over. Van
would cook a nice meal, then maybe they'd snuggle up and watch a
movie, and then after that make love all night long. Saturday
morning they'd laze around having coffee in bed, make love again,
and not even think about getting up until noon.

Vanessa's great plan.

She had checked with Suede on Thursday to
make sure they were still on. Vanessa was learning, albeit slowly.
"So. Tomorrow I'm going to cook for you and we're going to have a
sleepover, right?"

"Yes!" Suede answered. "You're going to
pamper me and spoil me and eat my pussy."

Vanessa laughed, but felt a thrilling zing
between her thighs. Good food, slumber party, and sex with Suede.
Yay! "Any foods I should know about that you particularly hate,
don't eat, or are allergic to?"

"Nope," Suede said. "If you're going to make
it, I'm going to eat it."

Now, cooking wasn't really Vanessa's forte,
so she jumped on the internet and searched for some recipes. She
wanted a savory meal, that didn't require anything too tricky on
her part. She browsed and looked at ingredient lists, and decided
on baked chicken, roasted red potatoes with rosemary, and sautéed
parsnips. And wine. It was going to be yummy and lovely.

She left work early Friday afternoon to shop
for groceries and spices and wine. She hummed to herself, feeling
very domestic.

Thank God for the internet, so she could get
the timing right. She would have never guessed that it would take
an hour to caramelize onions, or almost forty five minutes to sauté
parsnips. The parsnips were actually Suede's idea, and it was Suede
who told Vanessa, who'd never even tried parsnips, how to cook
them. She prepped the chicken and potatoes while the onions did
their quiet thing in butter on the stove. Once everything was
going, the apartment smelled phenomenal. By five o'clock, her mouth
was watering.

By five fifteen, she was anxiously watching
for Suede. At five thirty, she texted
Where R U?
to Suede
and received the answer,
Stopping home 2 change. C U
soon.

Vanessa set the table, turned down the
parsnips that were still simmering on the stove, shut the oven off,
and opened the wine. She lit some candles and killed the overhead
light. And waited. Her stomach growled.

At seven o'clock she texted Suede again.
Hungry. Are U coming?
It was ten minutes before she received
an answer.
Yes! On my way in 5 min.

Suede was supposed to be here around five.
Vanessa was starting to feel angry. She'd worked hard on the meal,
and she was starving. But now the chicken was cold, the potatoes
mushy, and the parsnips wilted. She almost felt like she was going
to cry.

And then Suede texted her arrival. About
time, Vanessa thought, as she took a deep breath before opening the
door.
I will not be crabby, I will not be crabby,
she told
herself, and planted a smile on her face. She opened the door and
felt her smile crack. Suede was standing there with some guy
Vanessa had never seen before.

She just stared, not even able to articulate
any sort of greeting.

"Sorry we're late, darling! I stopped for a
drink after work and ran into Patrick, and we were just having the
best time. And then I choked while tipping back a shot, and coughed
liquor all down the front of my shirt, and had to stop at home and
change before coming over." She pulled Patrick by the hand and
brushed past Vanessa toward the kitchen. "Oh, man, it smells
lovely, sweetie. Too bad my stomach is all weird right now. But I
bet Patrick is starving. We just had a hell of a workout in the
bedroom."

Vanessa was still standing at the door,
thinking,
what, what, what?
Who was this guy, and was Suede
having sex with him
while Vanessa sat here waiting for her
with a meal prepared? Seriously? And what about their sleepover?
Suede didn't have an overnight bag, so Vanessa could only assume
that she wasn't planning to spend the night. She felt shell-shocked
as she closed the door and followed Suede and Patrick into the
kitchen.

"You sure you can't eat?" Vanessa asked
Suede.

"Ugh, thanks, but no thanks. Ooh! I'll have
some wine, though."

Vanessa poured Suede some wine. "Hi, Patrick.
I'm Vanessa. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," he said. "Thanks for inviting me
to dinner."

Funny, Vanessa thought, she hadn't invited
Patrick anywhere. "Oh, thank Suede," she said, then winced at the
snotty sound of her own voice.

Suede noticed. "You sound crabby. Do you want
us to leave?"

Vanessa stared at her, exasperated. "No.
You're really late, and I'm hungry, and I want to eat."

"All right, but you don't have to take it out
on me. I said I was sorry. Jesus, if you were going to get all
bitchy and low blood sugar, you should have just eaten. You didn't
have to wait for me."

"I invited you for dinner. You said you were
coming," Vanessa said through clenched teeth.

"And I'm here, so eat for God's sake."

Suede started opening the cupboards. "I'll
fix you a plate, Patrick. Come on, Van, don't be mad. You'll feel
better after you eat."

Vanessa fixed herself a plate, but she was
suddenly so filled with resentment she wasn't even hungry.

"The parsnips are a little soggy and
overcooked," Suede said. "Next time, don't cook them so long."

As if there would be a next time. "You're
almost two hours late. Of course they're overcooked," Vanessa
said.

"You are crabby," Suede answered. "You
shouldn't let your blood sugar get so low."

"Leave her alone, Suede, they're good,"
Patrick said, digging in. "Really good."

Vanessa almost burst into tears. She'd put
all kinds of time and energy into cooking a special meal for a
complete stranger.

She tried to eat. At first bite, the chicken
tasted pretty good, but turned to sawdust in her mouth because she
was almost drowning in negative emotion.

Suede flirted with Patrick, batting her
eyelashes, giving him long steady looks, touching his elbow.
Vanessa gritted her teeth and wished this whole ordeal was over
with. Date night with Suede. What a fucking joke.

Suede drank the whole bottle of wine. Patrick
had a couple of sips from Suede's glass. Vanessa skipped it
altogether because she was in such a bad mood that it didn't seem
like a good idea to add alcohol. Suede just carried on, oblivious
to the fact that Vanessa was desperately disappointed. "I was so
surprised to run into Patrick," Suede said. "We used to hang out
together quite a bit until about a year ago, when he went on the
wagon. Haven't seen hide nor hair of him until this afternoon."

Patrick was nodding. "My girlfriend threw me
out this morning. Wasn't sure where I was going to crash tonight,
and then thank my lucky stars, who do I run into?" He laughed.
"Must be my lucky day because I already got lucky."

Yeah, thanks, twist the knife, fucker,
Vanessa was thinking.

The wine was gone, and the dirty dishes piled
in the sink when Suede said, "Do you have anything else to
drink?"

"Um. No." Vanessa said. "You were going to
bring something."

"Oh. Shit. I forgot. Well, Patrick and I are
going out to some clubs anyway, so it's okay. Hey, you're not doing
anything tonight are you? Want to come with us?"

Vanessa was dumbstruck. Really, seriously
speechless. It felt like a punch to the gut, and she could hardly
breathe, much less answer.

And right then her stomach heaved and she had
to run to the bathroom.

When she returned, Suede and Patrick were
bantering back and forth about where to go. "Not Jump 21," Suede
was saying. "Too many jocks and cheerleaders."

"But I like cheerleaders," Patrick said.

"Not when you're with me, you don't." Then
Suede said to Vanessa, "Oh my God, sweetie, did you get sick? Are
you all right?"

Vanessa scrubbed her face with her hands. "I
feel terrible. I wonder if maybe parsnips don't agree with me?" The
relief she felt at having an excuse to stay home far outweighed her
physical discomfort.

"It's not because of the food," Patrick said.
"I feel fine. Great, actually. Must be something else."

Vanessa pulled out a kitchen chair and sat
down. "Oh man, I feel hot all of a sudden, and lightheaded."

Suede bent and took Vanessa face in her hands
and said in a deadpan voice, "Maybe you're pregnant. Who have you
been sleeping with?"

It was on the tip of Vanessa's tongue to say
You,
when Suede gave her an exaggerated wink.

"Not likely," Vanessa said, but then Roman's
face popped into her head, and she felt a wave of hysterical
laughter rising up from her belly. "Oh. My. God," she said out
loud, before she could bite back the words. Her too warm
temperature bled away, leaving her chilled.

"I think you're safe," Suede said. "Wasn't
the last person you slept with a woman? As far as I know, girls
still don't have the ability to impregnate each other."

"Thank God for that," she said, trying to
imaging Suede as a co-parent. The image didn't gel at all. "I'm
going to go lie down," Vanessa said. "Sorry to be a party
pooper."

Patrick went out the door to have a smoke,
and Suede walked Vanessa to her bedroom.

It was beyond her comprehension how Suede
could show up two hours late, and with Patrick in tow, without even
calling Vanessa to make sure that was okay. Rude. Inconsiderate.
Clueless. How could Suede have possibly thought it was okay? And
then there was the comment,
You don't have any plans tonight, do
you?
Well, what the fuck? She'd felt like saying,
Obviously
not anymore, Shithead,
but then Suede would jump down Vanessa's
throat and say she was being a total bitch. Vanessa couldn't win.
Both her choices were lame – start a huge fight with Suede and be a
total bitch – which was senseless because Suede was already drunk
and Vanessa knew it would never get anywhere. Or go along with
Suede and Patrick and be miserable and angry all night. Argh. She
could just scream at the impossible position Suede put her in.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Either way, Suede would end
up the victim and Vanessa the bitch. No winners here. Getting sick
had been a blessing, and how often could you say that?

"Well, it's a good thing I ran into Patrick
or I'd have had nothing to do tonight," Suede said, and Vanessa
almost threw up again.