"I guess I should clarify what I meant by 'until and unless' in Jamaica."
I've just plucked up the courage to ask Tony, "Now that we're engaged, would you like to go upstairs?" We came so close the first night after we confessed our love to each other, but a series of disasters, including my Jag in the lake, made us pull back. So for weeks we've been affectionate, although not hot and heavy. But now that we've agreed, after another series of disasters, to get married, I think it's finally time to take the big step. After all, we're not teenagers. And we've known each other for seven years. And, well, it's not as if either of us has been celibate since the ends of our marriages.
But, yes, over those seven years we've both worried over what impact sex would have on our vital but delicate friendship. It's different now though, isn't it? I mean, we've definitely admitted we're not just friends.
"You said you didn't think we should until we're married. And then you changed that to unless. And, Tony, I know you're old-fashioned in some ways, but it's not like it would be be a cheap fling. It would be making love, not just sex." I blush but I have to be able to talk about it if I'm ready to do it.
"Um, yeah, that's what I want to explain."
"Explain?" Now I'm baffled. I can't imagine what he means.
"Sit down."
So I do. And he settles next to me on the couch, taking my hand. "Angela, I really love you."
"I love you, Tony."
"I know. But even so I don't think we can sleep together. Not until we're married."
I feel like crying, with frustration and rejection. Why does he have to have such misplaced scruples about me, especially after all those other women? I don't want to be put on a pedestal. Despite what Mother thinks, I'm not a cold fish, and I have all this stifled passion that I want to let out with the man I love. "Why not?" I try not to whine.
"Because it's something really special to me, something I think belongs only in a marriage."
I blink. "But what about Betty Boop? And Trish? And—" Even now, I can't easily say Kathleen's name. "All those other women."
"Oh, I just had sex with them. I didn't sleep with them."
"Tony," I say slowly, "I don't understand. Are you talking about some specific sexual practice or position that you think only married people can do?"
He shakes his head. "When I say 'sleep with,' I mean lying in bed asleep, with them."
Now I shake my head. I can't take this in. "You've never done that with anyone but Marie?"
"Well, you know with women, it's—Well, I mean, you know I've shared beds with family and friends, guy friends, you know, innocently. But not with women I was attracted to."
"You slept with me! You slept with me three times!"
"No, technically only once, and that doesn't count because I didn't know it was you."
"The time you thought it was Sam after her nightmare?"
"Yeah. And of course I didn't get any sleep with you on the train. Remember? I laid awake all night, thinking about your personal scent?"
"Well, yes, but wait a minute! The motel near Kissing Rock. We shared a bed." And a set of pajamas, I add silently.
"Yeah, and I stayed awake the whole night."
"You faked being asleep?"
"Yeah, sorry. I didn't want you to know that I couldn't sleep lying next to you. And, uh, I was afraid I might touch you in my sleep."
"Oh." I blush again.
"And the times I stayed at the Fairfield Inn. With Trish, I made sure I slept on the couch back home that night. And with Tanya, well, I faked it then, too."
I can't help it, I say, "Were you listening to my room all night, with your ear to the glass?"
"No, not all night. Just for a few minutes."
"Oh. Then you might know I slept with him. In both senses."
"Yeah, I kind of figured you did. That's how I knew it was serious with you two, those overnight trips. And two other times I got really jealous, well, part of it was that I thought you were going to spend a night or more with those men."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, first Jack."
"Wait, Jack my VP?"
"Yeah, when you two were at the Plaza. Um, I thought you were sharing a room."
"He was with his fiancée."
"Yeah, I found that out when I showed up. And the other time was when you almost went to Greece with Christopher."
"So you weren't just worried about me having sex with other men?"
"Well, that bugged me, too, but less."
Some things fall into place from over the years, like how he insisted on sleeping on the couch and then the floor at two of his baseball reunions. Obviously, we could've had sex when we were sharing a room, no matter where he slept. And in Jamaica, and other times, he never actually said it was about sex. I just assumed. " 'Yes, Tony has his own room,' " I murmur, though he said it very indignantly to the the woman from the IRS.
"Yeah." And then he brings up something he said the first night we knew each other. " 'You'd never catch me doing something dumb like sleeping with my employer!' "
"So you just meant 'sleeping,' even back then?"
"I meant both."
"Oh." It's like our whole relationship, these past seven years looks different to me now. And what about all those other women? Was Marie really the only one he's fallen asleep next to? I hesitate but I have to know. "Did you sleep with Kath—Kathleen that first night?"
A look of shame distorts his handsome, olive-skinned face, the same look I saw the morning after his all-nighter, although I didn't want to believe it. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I did. I didn't mean to. But I was so tired. Not just from, well, anyway, I was worn out from studying, too. And I told myself I'd just shut my eyes for a minute and then look at slides while she slept, or go read the textbook in the bathroom. But the next thing I knew, I woke up and she was snuggled up against me."
I feel like I've been re-betrayed, as if this is somehow worse than him moving inside her as she clung to him, the two of them locked in passionate embrace, their bodies intertwined.
Not looking at me, he quietly continues, "It wasn't like with Marie, where there was that trust and security and, and love. Kathleen was an acquaintance. But I wondered if it meant something that I'd fallen asleep with her. Maybe I was supposed to pursue this. I was very confused."
"Tony," I manage to speak again, "what is it about literally sleeping with someone that's so meaningful to you?"
"I don't know. I guess I feel vulnerable but also safe. And it's almost like you're dreaming together. With Marie, this was a woman who'd be the last person I'd see each night, and the first person I'd see each morning. Sometimes we'd fall asleep after making love, or other times it'd be the first thing we'd do in the morning, after kissing each other more awake. If we'd accidentally touched in the night, that would've been fine. I do want that intimacy with you, but I want to wait till you're my wife. Till we've made that commitment."
I think about what he's said. It's not completely crazy. I know that when I slept with Michael when I was intending to divorce him, it felt good to have him back in my bed, like when we were married. If we had had sex and then he'd gone back to his hotel, it wouldn't have been the same. And I remember Tony's shocked expression the next morning, when Michael was the one to answer Tony's "rise and shine."
Still, it is an unusual distinction to make. And is it in fact the distinction I think he's making? I need to clarify this further. "So how do you feel about making love to me before we're married?"
"I would love to make love to you. Tonight." And then he gives me a searing kiss that goes right down to my toes.
When we part, both panting a little, I say, "Well, I suppose if I can only sleep with you literally or figuratively, then I'd rather choose figuratively." It was lovely when I slept beside him, but I realize more than ever that it didn't give him the same peaceful, contented feeling.
"I want both. But not yet."
"OK," I say softly.
"Come on, let's go upstairs."
We stand up, still holding hands. I think of other times we've gone upstairs together, having to part and say goodnight in the hallway. Tonight, well, I suppose we'll say goodnight after sex, although I hope he doesn't dash right out after, or kick me out.
"Whose room?"
"Yours," he says, as if he's thought about this many times. Well, so have I, but I've pictured it happening all over the house, in a shameless way that would embarrass even Mother. "Your bed is bigger. And if it's in there, then I'll have to leave. If we do it in my bed, I'll want to curl up and go to sleep right after."
I don't see why he wouldn't want to in my bed, other than it'd be less familiar to him. But it doesn't matter. The important thing is that Tony and I will make love. Tonight. At last!
