Page 15 of Not Until Her
Sure, there are cute men out there. Some of them are really nice, and have much more exciting personalities than Caleb. I know that because I experienced it.
Butwomen.
I just feel more connected to them, even the worst of them. I’m more attracted to their bodies and minds in every way. I felt more in the most casual of flings with women than I have with any man, despite the circumstances. The conversations are always deeper, the walls are always easier to knock down.
I know love and attraction are a spectrum. I don’t rule out theentirepossibility of a man sweeping me off my feet, but I’d have to see it to believe it. And I absolutely won’t be waiting around for it to happen, when I am finally sure of who I am and what I feel. I picture my next love, my forever love, and I know deep down that it’s not going to be with a man.
“I actually don’t want to sit here and bash him. Enough time has passed, and I’ve wanted to see him move forward for a while now. Maybe I feel that way a little less at the moment with the information you’ve given me today, but still.” I look around for a second, hoping there’s a waiter nearby that could bring me a glass of water. There isn’t. This place has terrible service. “You’ll both have to sit down with Dahlia and explain that what you did was wrong. Apologize to her. Then we can go from there.”
“We will,” Raquel says. “Consider it done. And you deserve an apology too, I really am sorry.”
I shrug.
“I’m not ready to say it’s okay. Talk to her first.”
She nods, and I can tell she’s disappointed that I’m not relieving her of her guilt right this second.
With that, I give her a tight smile and grab my bag from the seat beside me.
“You’re going? You’re not going to eat?” she asks.
“The food here sucks. Have you had it?” Raquel shakes her head. “Great. Get out while you still can.”
She pauses, looking around the restaurant. She’s probably just now noticing the same thing: that no one’s appeared to get her drink order yet. When she stands, taking my advice, I clear my throat.
“Do you have kids?” I ask, not having considered that possibility.
“No,” she draws the word out like she’s confused.
“You don’t sound sure.”
She lets out a nervous laugh.
“Sorry, no. I really don’t.”
I nod, believing her.
“I want kids,” she adds. “At least two. We’ve talked about it being a possibility someday.”
I didn’t need to know that much, although Dahlia will absolutely love being a big sister.
“Ah,” I say uncomfortably. “That’s cool.”
Raquel frowns, and then she surprises me by cautiously putting her arms out, like she’s hoping I’ll be willing to hug. I’m not feeling very willing, but I am merciful. I don’t want to embarrass her.
I hug her. It’s weird. She says she hopes to talk soon, that she wants to know me better, and I mutter some noncommittal response.
My reaction to her is mixed. Complicated. This whole thing could be a big performance on her end, and she doesn’t actually care about any of it. Spending more time with her wouldprobably help clear that up, but today’s not the day I’m going to agree to it.
5
The few quiet nights I had were nice while they lasted.
I’m thrown from a deep sleep at two in the morning by a shaking, vibrating feeling I do not understand. I refuse to open my eyes right away, listening and feeling for an explanation. There’s a pattern to it, a rhythm. Something that makes the muscles in my neck want to nod along to it.
It’s music.
I rip out an earplug to anattackof it. A loud, bass heavy song, with deep and guttural screaming. If I were hearing it in any other context, I’d probably try to figure out what the song is so I can listen to it when I’m feeling angsty in my car later.