Page 28 of Fire Under Glass

“I’m sure.” What I might have lost in climax, kept coming back to me in small waves.

We sat on the ground eating Greek cheese and bagel chips. I couldn’t get enough I was so famished. I thought the serenity of the afternoon would just continue into the night, that for once I wouldn’t have to atone for the past with more confessions, but my life with KC was never that easy.

He peered up at me after a swallow of beer, “So what haven’t you said about Rossi?”

As soon as he mentioned Rossi’s name, I could feel myself running up against a wall of fear. I knew what was coming next without having to think about it; though this was one piece of the past I found impossible to confess. I suppose I could have fudged and dredged up some innocuous but provocative scene that really didn’t matter a hill of beans to me, but I had the feeling that KC would know. “Haven’t I said enough?” I thought whining a little might help.

He shook his head, “No. You’re like a witch, Gail, with a cauldron of hungers boiling at the surface. This one isn’t easy, I already know that, but you will spit it out.”

“How do you know, anyway?”

“I know because you’re easy to read; besides, half of me is a wizard.” Now he was trying to make me laugh, and I almost did.

“Actually, I’d rather we fuck again.”

“And I’d probably rather fuck you, too. But I want to know what’s behind all your agitation. I want what’s in your gut, what you’re afraid to say. What weird, nonsensical indecencies have your life tied in knots.” He shrugged. “Then again, maybe this is worse than all the others and you’re too chicken to confess the truth.”

“I am not chicken!”

“Then talk.”

“First, you tell me why this is so important to you.”

“It’s important to me because it’s important to you. It’s what people do for each other when they are in love.”

When he said that, I was nearly in tears.

“Besides, every time you tell your stories, the sex gets better.”

“Oh, so this is really just a selfish exercise!” I jibed pretending I was angry—though I hadn’t forgotten what he said about people in love. My mock anger was just covering the love I had for him.

“So, Gail,” he returned to the original question, “what did Rossi do to you?”

With the kind of prelude we had this day, I couldn’t balk any longer, though it didn’t make it any easier spilling my guts.

“I suppose I thought I was in love with him,” I began. “I knew I couldn’t live without his control—but I don’t imagine that was really love…After I’d been living with him for several months, he started remodeling the house and told me I couldn’t use my private bath, it was being renovated.

“That didn’t surprise me, Rossi was constantly dabbling with his environment, changing things that weren’t right—a lot like the way he dabbled with me—always fixing what was wrong, or not quite right. His house was his creation and no different than the woman he was transforming with all his rules and regulations and the rigorous discipline.

“One afternoon I came home to find Rossi sitting with a man I’d never seen…”

“Gail, dear, come meet Dr. Dwyer,” Rossi called her from the hallway as she rushed in after class.

She was face to face with the ruggedly handsome doctor finding herself suddenly self-conscious and twittery like a schoolgirl having her first crush. He was thirty, maybe thirty-five, with thick blond hair that he combed back from his face—though it seemed it was destined to torment him, falling over his brow, partially hiding the rich blue of his eyes. Running his hand through his hair, he confined the unruly lock just long enough to reach out and offer her a hand.

“Gail,” he nodded with a measurable amount of smiling admiration.

For her part, she almost felt like flirting, though she kept her impressions as primly bound as they were accustomed to being.

“Dr. Dwyer,” she greeted him. Though thrilled by his appearance, she was strangely stupefied by the meaning of his visit. Rossi never did anything without a reason, and she was afraid to hear his reasons for this man’s unexpected arrival.

“Dr. Dwyer is a gynecologist. He’s going to give you a complete physical examination. Something I think you need before we proceed with some of the more intimate acts that we’re destined to explore.”

She took one step back, appalled. What an extraordinary mouthful of information! It took some time for her to grasp the words, and by the time she finally did, she was already pushed toward the renovated bathroom. Following the two men into the white-tiled room, she spun around surprised to see it twice the size it had been before.

“Impressive,” the doctor exclaimed to Rossi as he examined the room.

“Functional, but artistically done,” Rossi said, agreeing and explaining at the same time.