Goten still lives in that small neat apartment, and I could hear him strumming his guitar through the paper thin walls.
"I've been wrong, I've been down
to the bottom of every bottle
These five words in my head.."
His voice trailed off as I knocked. I heard the clink of his guitar being set gently on the floor. He walked toward the door, pausing a moment, the pulling it open. This time, it was he who was dry, and I who was soaking wet. I won't forget the way his eyes meant mine. And I won't forget the way he looks. Jumpsuit top curled down to the middle, wife beater covering his chest and oil smudges from the pit.
"Marron." He says softly.
"Hi." I say back. He moves slightly to the side, ever the gentleman, and invites me into his apartment.
"Do you want a towel or something?" He asked, his voice still soft. It had been sprinkling, but I had stood outside of his complex, contemplating weather or not to go in. The rain had come down suddenly, and I still didn't have the balls to do it. Soon enough, I just wandered inside.
"Yeah." I reply after a moment of hesitation. He doesn't bring up the wedding. I suppose I'll have too. Goten leaves the room, returning moments later and handing me a towel. "Thanks." I Say softly.
"Yeah, sure," He replies then offers me a seat on his couch. I take it, and he sits across from me and begins to strum his guitar.
"Goten I think we ought to talk about what happened." I tell him softly.
"Oh?" He replies without looking up
"I'm sorry." I force out the words.
"That's fine." He replies, setting aside the guitar and looking up.
"I'm serious." I say softly.
"Don't do this." Goten says, standing and turning his back to me.
"Why not!" I yell.
"Because! You don't have any fucking right to waltz back into my life a screw it up! I'm just getting it all back together!" He snapped, still not turning around.
"I said I was sorry!" I yell back. He turns suddenly, and there are tears falling from his face. I take a step back.
"That doesn't make me feel any better. That didn't make it any easier for me to have to tell three hundred people that my wife to be had run of to fuck knows where!"
"I'm sorry." It's all I can say. I take another step back, and sit down on the couch.
"No," Goten says softly. He wipes at his face. "I shouldn't have yelled. I'm sorry."
"Goten, it's okay that your angry with me." I tell him.
"I'm sure you had your reasons to do what you did." He replies. Sometimes I wish he wasn't so nice. I wish he could just call me a slut, or a bitch and get it over with. But he doesn't.
"Not the right ones." I say shrugging. "When did you learn to play?" I ask. he grinned.
"Self taught... I could show you a few cords."
"All right." I smile. Goten gently sets the guitar into my hands and show me where to place my finger tips.
"There you go..now strum with the hand." He placed his hand over my, and gave a strum. A nice tune came out, then drifted off into the apartment I smiled. Goten removed the guitar from my hands, then sat next to me, and instructed me to sit between his legs. I did it, feeling a bit awkward at first, but then, he set the guitar over my laps and placed my hands in the right place. Over my hands, went his. He began to play again.
"You took your coat off
and stood in the rain
you were always crazy like that
and I waltzed from my window
always felt I was outside
looking in on you
you were always the mysterious one
With dark eyes and careless hair
you were fashionably sensitive
but to cool to care
you stood in my doorway, with nothing to say
besides some comment on the weather.."
I shifted to turn to see him. He was watching me with those coal eyes. And I couldn't help it. I kissed him. His hands, set the guitar aside, and then on the small of my back. It's wasn't his normal, slow patient kiss. Or even one of his nervous kisses. But a desperate, needy kiss, one that I gave into. I pulled back slightly and struggled out of my top. Goten pulled of his wife beater, then slid his hands up my skirt. It was something he had never done before. Something I'm not sure that I liked him doing. But I let him. And then he was kissing me again, pressing hander, and nearly thrusting his tongue down my throat.
later
The first thing that I felt was a pair of arms around me. That was a good sign. Normally, the first thing I felt after a night that I couldn't remember was my brain sliding around in my head. The second thing that I felt were sheets. Bed sheets. And that brought it all back to me. Goten was lying beside me, his lips pressed tenderly into my back, breathing low and steady. He was asleep. I slipped out of his arms and down to the dark floor. Eventually, I found my panties, bra, socks, shoes, skirt and top along the way to Goten's living room, after throwing them on haphazardly, I left. Not leaving a note and not waking him.
My little Detroit techno sat on the street alone. I climbed into it, started the car, then began to drive toward my house. The lights were no when I pulled into the driveway. The glowing numbers on the clock indicated at was just fast three in the morning. The front door pulled open and out popped my father's head.
"Marron?" he called.
"Yeah Daddy," I said. "It's me."
"Jesus Chirst!" he hissed. "Where have you been!"
"Sorry Daddy," I say hugging him. He helps me out of the car, then closes my door behind me, and I notice he is curiously quiet. Instead of asking what was wrong, I went inside the house, up the stares, and then dropped into bed. This time I was alone, although I wouldn't wake up that way.