Wait for Me (13 page)

*

In the following hour I didn't hear a single word of the lecture on physiognomy. My intellectual capacity was limited to staring at the blackboard and tracing X on a blank sheet of paper. I could sense my feelings for Adam taking root, deeper and stronger. Why was he citing chaos theory? Was he suggesting that I had lost control? Or was I the butterfly? Was I testing his limits? He was testing mine.

We were opposing compounds, and almost every possible sequence indicated chaos.

After the lecture, I went to the library, still reflecting on the issue. What did I really know about him? He was dominating, fanatical about sex, enjoyed bondage and had a taste for hookers, or women who would not test his precious boundaries. Given my past, I was the worst possible match for him.

*

“Hello,” said Adam, taking the seat next to me. “I came to look for you since you weren't returning my calls.” His tone was kind and contained.

Whilst one half of me soared with happiness, the other plummeted into a black hole.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“Tell me—” he said. “Tell me what's going on.”

“Remember when you asked me what I really thought of you?”

He nodded.

“Well, here's the truth – you scare me.”

“In what sense?”

“In every sense. The kind of sex that you're into… I find it—”

His expression grew dark and puzzled. He had never told me about his more obscure indulgences, but it was clear that I knew.

“Unacceptable?”

“It's not that, it's just that they conflict with some of the experiences that I've had. We're not compatible, Adam. I can't give you what you want, and you can't give me what I want.”

He shook his head, unsure.

“What is it that you want? Just ask me.”

“Don't make me say it as though it isn't obvious.”

Taking a deep breath, he placed his hands carefully onto his knees.

“I'm not looking for a fairy tale Sophie. We've been through this.”

“I know that, but honestly, when I saw you today with Miss Truman, I had this realization that I'm just another number. I guess it was a moment of clarity – this isn't what I want, Adam.”

He shook his head again.

“You don't like being with me? Am I doing anything that you don't like?”

“No, I do like it.” I lowered my eyes to his hands.

“So, what's the problem?”

“Do you really not get it?”

“No, I don't. Two consenting people deriving maximum pleasure from their bodies, why complicate it with the mind? The mind doesn't need to meddle in this.”

“Sex is exclusively physical for you?”

“It is.”

“Even with Alice Truman?”

He narrowed his lips, examining me.

“There's history there, right?”

His eyes seemed to light up and he gave me a bewildered smile.

“Oh, I think I see. And no, there's no history. I just fuck her every now and again.”

“And how am I supposed to feel about that?”

He clenched his teeth and closed his fists on the table. “How are you supposed to feel about that?” he whispered to himself. “I fuck her, that's all.”

“That's all? Do you even hear yourself when you speak?” I hissed, trying to exercise volume control.

“So, if I fuck someone later then that's fine with you?”

“Yes.”

I froze. “Look I'm sorry – we're on different wavelengths. It's better for everyone if we just end it here. I can't do it.”

“Listen, Sophie, I like you, what more do I have to say? I don't believe in monogamy, I tolerate it in others but I don't believe in it.”

He was from a different dimension.

“Well, when you put it like that, let's meet up in a few days shall we? I'll squeeze a few other men in first.”

I stood up, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back to my seat.

“Sophie. How many times? I like you… and I'm not looking for a love story.”

I snorted. “It's absurd – you make me feel like I'm the unreasonable one. Listen, I get that you're not looking for love, but you're not even acknowledging the possibility that you might have feelings for me.” I imitated him. “
I force myself not to want you, but it's tremendously difficult.
Fucking hell Adam… be honest with yourself for once.”

“What do you really want Sophie?” he asked, sullen. “The other night, if I'm not mistaken, you told me that you're not looking for anything either. I think it's you who needs to start being honest.”

“Well, I was wrong. You're driving me insane. I'm trying to get closer to you, and yes, I'm getting possessive,” I said. “But today, you showed me how little I mean to you.”

“I'm intensely attracted to you.”

“Very well, but for me there's more. Of course there's the attraction, but that's only a part of it.”

“I see,” he said, standing up. “Thank you for clarifying this. You're right – we are incompatible. I'll see you around.”

Stunned, I watched him walk away. He didn't look back.

That night, I saw him leave at nine-thirty and return with a hooker. It was crushing. I was right there, and he preferred this commodity exchange.

Over the following weeks, my usual routine resumed: college, studying, therapy, thinking, and boredom. That is, until the night of my brother's birthday. We had dinner at Frank's on 2nd Avenue and (after offloading Mom into a cab) went to a club. Fred had given me the night off specially.

My brother and Miranda left at 1 a.m., placing me in the custody of Gustav and his wife. Between the dancing and the cocktails, I genuinely enjoyed myself and went home exhausted, sometime around 3 a.m. Seeing double and trying to find the vanishing keyhole by closing one eye, Adam materialized beside me.

“Where have you been?” he asked. His tone was menacing.

It was the sound of rage. I knew it well. I managed to find the keyhole and lunged myself inside. He followed. I had not seen him for weeks and his presence behind me was exciting. I hurried into the lobby, in front of the office, but Adam roughly dragged me to the ground. He kicked the door shut and dived on me.

“Where were you Sophie? Were you with somebody?”

“No!” I yelled, squirming free.

“Bullshit. That's the same face you have after I fuck you,” he barked.

I kicked him in the shin. “Because I'm drunk!” I screeched. “Moron.”

He lifted my dress and tore my underwear.

“Let me feel you.”

I moment later I felt his breath on me. I did not fight back. Years of abuse had taught me that when he sees red, it's safer to just let him do it – it's the only way that survival is guaranteed.

He returned to my face. A few inches away, his voice rasped at me: “Tell me who you fucked, right now.”

“Nobody, Adam.” I took his face in my hands. “Look at me – nobody,” I said. “I haven't fucked anybody. I was out for my brother's birthday, he was there… ask him yourself.”

I turned my head and pushed him away. He stood up in a slow, staggering motion. His eyes, which until a moment ago had been full of carnal wrath, were now flooded by a dark and profound sadness.

I grabbed the shreds of my dress and covered myself as best I could. It was a defining moment; it was the forking path. I could ask him to leave and never come back, or I could offer myself, exclusively. And I chose the second route.

“Do you want to be the only one to fuck me?” I asked.

He didn't answer.

I dropped my dress on the floor and approached him. I undid his trousers, ran my fingers along his cock and began to suck it intently. Hearing his moans of pleasure made my anxieties ebb away. I pushed him deeper into my throat, almost choking myself. I wanted him to know that this was my choice. That I was his, that I was sick – as sick as he was. That we were as sick as one another.

When it was over, we went to lie on the bed, side by side. We were silent. I simply caressed his body as he gazed at the ceiling. When he finally closed his eyes, I fell asleep in his arms – exhausted.

When I heard my brother's voice approach the bedroom, I shot out of bed in another panic.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, holding a box of donuts.

I looked around. No trace of Adam.

“Nothing… I was dreaming and you surprised me.”

“Ah,” he said, looking at me as though I were a lunatic. “Yes, I see that. I'll wait for you in the office.”

I wanted to hibernate indefinitely. As I thought about the previous night, all I felt was shame. I had practically groveled before him – another slave to love.

I looked at the life jacket on the wall and, for the first time, acknowledged that I was the one who needed saving. Not from anybody else, but from myself.

Holding this truth, I got up to face the day. By that, I mean I found my way to the office with my eyes still closed. I was greeted by two glasses of champagne.

“What's this?” I questioned.

“Sophie… Miranda and I are having a baby,” announced Fred, at full volume.

The joy for my brother still didn't rouse me.

“Ah, congratulations,” I muttered.

“Damn, you went at it hard last night. You know you shouldn't drink on that medication.”

I walked over, sat on his lap and hugged him tightly.

“Fred, I'm really,
really
happy for you,” I took a glass and waited for him to do the same.

“Chin chin big brother! Congratulations and I hope it's a girl,” I laughed. “And that it doesn't take after our side of the family.”

He smiled with a strange, singular happiness that I had not witnessed before.

“You're defective,” he said, draining the flute, whilst I struggled to bring it near me.

“So, I'll be Aunty Sophie then?”

“Exactly, and see that you're a half decent one too will you? That leaves you six months to finish college and find a real job.”

“I like it here,” I grumbled.

“I don't. I want to see you graduate and get far away from this place,” he said, holding eye contact.

“I will do Fred, I promise. Anyway, are you ready to break the news to Mom? You know you'll be flooded with home-knitted hats and woolen sweaters don't you?”

“Oh god, don't even go there. Awful aren't they?”

When I returned to my room, the first thing I did was check to see whether Adam had messaged me. He hadn't, so I decided to send one first.

He didn't respond.

I spent the whole day studying in the library. My brother's subtle dig had made me think. I really did have to finish my exams and get out of there – now more than ever. I wanted normality in my life, and that included my relationship with Adam.

Unfortunately, this fantasy was shattered the very same night when I saw him, at nine-thirty, come to collect his car. Of course, I knew where he was going. I didn't even hesitate. I went out into the lot and waited by the card scanner.

“Where are you headed?” I asked, as he stopped and lowered his window.

“Out,” he answered, inscrutably.

“You don't want to come over?” I asked, feeling a nullity. “You said you would do soon.”

Standing in the reflection of his Audi and begging for his time like some desperate cretin. I wanted to start kicking the door.

“Not tonight,” he said shortly.

“If you come back with one of them, then we're through.”

“I need it.”

“What? Sex? This was all your doing – I didn't even want you in my life,” and I started crying out of humiliation. “Why do you act like this?”

Indecipherable and immobile, he stared at me. I held eye contact for a full minute, before losing my temper.

“I get it. I'm done with this shit. Don't come looking for me any more. I'm sure you'll find whatever it is you need. And don't you dare – ever – lay a finger on me again.”

He did not need telling twice; he swiped his card and drove off.

I stormed back to my bedroom, attacking the trash can and launching a few books along the way. I sat down at the computer. It was time to create some goals and objectives, as suggested by every self-help book ever written.

I compiled a list.

I printed five copies, pinned one beside my bed, one by the surveillance monitor, one by the TV, one on my bedroom door, and the final one I folded neatly into my jacket pocket. Now I couldn't possibly ignore it. The sense of fulfillment that I gleaned from this new agenda lasted at least five minutes. It was really a lost cause. Maybe the first four were reasonable, but the rest? I knew myself too well.

The doorbell rang three times. I expected Ben and Ester, but, to my great surprise, found Adam standing before me. I wanted to slam the door in his face, but I was rooted by the glimmer of hope that he had come to tell me what I wanted to hear.