Part Five
I didn't realize how weak I was before. I tried to last. To give Henry love that matched the aching desire that I had for him. The tighter that I held on, the more my limbs trembled. He soothed me, caressed me, whispered on and on about how I was the last person that he expected to meet and somehow, the only one that he needed. It was a fantasy come to life. He was so much gentler than Todd ever was, he didn't ask me to perform tasks that I was uncomfortable with or tell me to turn over, he looked me in the eye, remaining present and appreciative of the efforts that I made to please him. His breaths became hollow echoes against the ringing in my ears, my mouth grew parched despite the deepness of his kiss, I kept my eyes open and combatted my failing consciousness. Blacking out while lying down was always preferable. It gave me a soft place to land and spared me the judgement of others, but the thought of passing out during intercourse had never crossed my mind before. It was inevitable at this point and I was absolutely humiliated.
"Henry," I blared, feeling my tongue sticking to the inside of my dry cheek. "Is this the wine's doing or will I have another chance with you?" Both of my arms had laced themselves behind his back. My words slurred, my body resigned from our lively dance and I could feel my hands slipping and falling to my sides.
He grabbed hold of my nearest hand, sliding it several inches above my head, gripping it tightly and pressing it deep into the couch cushion. "Have I not made my affection for you clear enough, Marigold Casey? This is not… what do you modernists call it, a 'one night stand'?"
"Modernists? What do… what do you mean by…" my laugh collapsed into itself, my words followed suit. Those eyes, those lips, that sideways smirk turned to nothing more than a handsome blur. I could feel myself begin to gasp, not knowing if it was love or life that I sought after. There were no fireworks for me, not this time. To this day, I wonder if this was the first in the chain of events leading up to Henry's sudden abandonment. What if I had stayed to finish what we started? Would he have stayed with me, too? He rocked me sweetly, softly and I remained beneath him, inanimate as a fallen leaf floating downstream on a gentle current. I never learned if he stopped himself or finished, I never had the nerve to ask. All that I know is that several hours later, when the disorienting combination of flashes and sirens in the college parking lot roused us from our slumber, Henry had dressed himself in night clothes and covered my modesty with a soft, thick throw. That tiny gesture told me that no matter what he decided to do with my body when I temporarily left it vulnerable in his embrace, he was still a gentleman.
"Where's my phone?" My voice quivered and as I sat upright, all of my extremities were wobbly and numb. My sweat had dried, but the air in the apartment smacked coldly across my naked shoulders and breasts. I stood up momentarily, shivering and re-adjusting the blanket around myself like a robe. Henry remembered before I did that I left my phone beside his record collection. It was the last thing that I touched before unbuttoning my dress in front of him, a talisman that would lead me back to reality.
He walked to that corner, illuminated by the police car lights and I revisited my sloppy attempt at foreplay in my mind. I was terrible at seducing men. Ridiculous, really. Given his appearance, charm and (as I had recently learned, to little surprise of my own) skillfulness in bed, I was certain that I was not the only woman to postpone a slow dance with him for something so scandalous. My innocence was laughable. I picked the worst song to strip to on the planet, lost all sense of rhythm and laughed like a drunken lunatic when he carried me to the couch. He had been so cordial, treating it like a new, exhilarating experience. What's more, he made it work. Everything from my eager uncertainty to the upbeat waltz of Darius Rucker's "Wagon Wheel", he handled it all with such proficiency and left my awkward, lanky body buzzing and singing like a fiddle string. If only my sound hadn't been so short-lived.
Giselle texted me so many times that I actually had to scroll down the lock screen to count them all. Ten total, one pending. The text that stood out to me the most was the one saying that she was going to reach out to Jake and search for me. That was why there were police across the street. They were looking all over the school for me. Under Giselle's assumption that I had passed out before the building was locked up, most likely. I punched in my passcode, flipped through my contacts and called her, paying no mind to her most recent text. It was in all caps, so who could blame me?
"Besties don't give besties heart attacks, Mare!" She hollered. So loudly, in fact, that I could hear her through the speaker and from across the street, simultaneously. "Christ on a motherfuggin' cracker! You make it so hard for me to love you sometimes!"
"Yeah, well, right back atcha," I grumbled into the receiver. Telling her that she didn't have to get Jake involved crossed my mind, but that would have given away my location.
"I waited up for you! Tonight was mosaic trivet night! I made us whiskey sours and fondue! Do you know how dangerous it is to have a fondue pot and a glue gun going while your bestie is giving you a damned panic attack?! Where are you?!"
I had two options, lie or try my hand at the truth. Chronic lying is a side effect of eating disorders and Giselle picked up on this long before my official diagnosis. My eyes met Henry's. I was still trying to process this all, how I, Marigold Casey, a good girl, a non-gambler by nature, could toss the dice and win on my first try. This was not a hookup, it was the beginning of a relationship and there was no shame in letting my best friend know the truth. "I met up with a guy after class. And it went well. Very well. Okay?"
"Of all the shitty lies you have told me through the years, Marigold Victoria Casey, that one is the shit-shit-shittiest! The CEO of Porta Potties R' Us would find himself immediately dethroned by your little sugar-coated butt if-"
"-would you believe me if I put him on the phone?"
Although we were in the darkness of his unlit living room, I caught sight of the strangest trace of resistance on Henry's face. Reluctantly, he took the phone when I handed it to him. "Good evening?" Giselle screamed a few incoherent curses at him. "Miss? Ship-"
"Zipp," I corrected him, adoring his awkwardness.
"Miss Zipp. I assure you, your… bestie… is in good hands… Yes, ma'am… yes, I ordered her seven bags of carryout from the Jade Garden."
"THE JADE GARDEN?!" Her voice bled through my phone's speaker… and the outside, "THE WOMAN IS THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF A PUREBREAD BITCHIN' FRIZZY!"
Confused, terrified and reeling with ear pain, Henry looked to me for clarification. "She means a bichon frise…"
"SHE WON'T KEEP DOWN THE KIBBLES! NO, SIR!" Giselle continued her violent assault on poor Henry's eardrum. "I'VE SEEN HER TURN THE NOSE UP AT A STEAK AND LOBSTER DINNER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! SHE'S THE LOVE CHILD OF CHEF GORDON RAMSEY AND THE INVENTOR OF THE TAPEWORM DIET!"
The police dispersed, sirens and lights shut off and car doors started to slam. The search had ended, and Giselle knew that I was alive. That was reason enough to escape. "Hang up," my voice was neither demanding nor hushed, but broken. The second that the "call ended" bell chimed on my phone, I leaned over and started to cry into the fleece throw across my knees. "You haven't been in Waterford long enough for your address to be listed, right? Please tell me she has no way of finding us."
"Not that I am aware of," he sat beside me and moved his hand over my bent back, "she has upset you? What can I do, Marigold? How can I help?"
Telling him everything and returning to his arms would have been the easiest thing in the world. I didn't want to go back to the hospital and start back at square one, I didn't want to carry on eating just enough food to get me through the day and ridding myself of all the rest before bed, but all of those desires were secondary to how burdensome I felt. I loved Giselle and was plummeting faster than the speed of light, falling, falling and falling madly in love with Henry. My illness was my cross to bear, not my loved ones. I wanted to be with him but needed time alone and the false sense of renewal that showering always gave me was all that I asked of him. He walked me to his bathroom and when I heard his feet move away on the opposite side of the closed door, I curled up on the shower floor and cried until the hot water turned cold.
Over half of my students returned for Friday's class, much to my surprise. I was timid for the first five minutes or so, shell shocked from the previous evening, but about halfway through, something changed. It's incredible how much energy it takes to ease yourself into relaxation. I was a livewire, riding a high that I never believed that I would come down from. Giselle had written, asking when to expect me and I had yet to reply. I was in hot demand. I felt naughty. Sexy, even. I would finish the evening strong and return to the cavernous, book-filled love nest that I shared with the British academic of my dreams, ah! Confidence and separation from the circumstances, that was what got me through Friday's class. I was right on point, even when my students strayed from the topic. To make matters even lovelier, I learned beforehand that Henry had accepted a position in the history department several weeks ago and that was why his apartment was practically on campus. My fortunes had improved so swiftly!
After my first truly successful evening at Waterford Community College, I meditated only briefly on how well things had gone and set my mind on Henry's open arms. The nighttime air was brisk, clear and though the fragrance of Douglas firs and rain were severely lacking, it reminded me of Portland, somehow. It reminded me of the only time in my life when I was independent, detached from Waterford, Giselle and all of those traditions that were somehow so easy for me to take for granted. I wanted to start new traditions with Henry. He must have been on the same brainwave, feeling the same appreciation for the cool, dark night because the precious fellow was sitting on a stone bench in the quad, awaiting my arrival.
"There she is! There's my girl!" He stood, welcoming me with open arms. "How was your class?"
"About a squillion times better! That's a hyperbole! Yay, hyperboles!"
As ever, Henry spun my giddy stupidity into gold by leaning me back in his arms and kissing my wordy mouth with all of the style and gusto of a vintage film star. "I have a surprise for you. Do you have a locker on campus where you can store your tote?"
I babbled for several minutes about how I technically wasn't faculty and didn't have a locker. He, on the other hand, hadn't even started working there and already had a classroom and an office to his name. This normally would have ignited some envy in me, but not this time. I dropped my items off in his beautiful, empty office with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. His car was older, a black Mercury with newly refurbished seats. It had been in his possession just long enough for the interior to begin absorbing the delectable amber notes of his cologne. I looked out the window once or twice but kept returning my gaze to his unshaven profile. He was so handsome, so self-assured. He revved the engine, sped fifteen over, taking sharp, smooth turns through the city streets before shooting onto the interstate. I wagered that he had spent years studying films, taking notes and learning how to kiss and drive the way he did.
"I'm beginning to think that I might love you, Henry Anderson," I said bluntly as the car began to slow. Traffic. That cool, suave mask dropped just long enough for him to look at me as he always did, with joy and surprise. "Could you at least give me a hint?" He pointed to a road sign, several yards in the distance and I gave up my perfect view of his face to see where we were headed: Charleston International Airport- 25 Miles.
"I came to South Carolina for research and have hit a wall in my studies. As for you, I figured you could use a weekend away from Waterford. It is on me, no strings attached, no reimbursements. Just you and I, returning to our origins."
"Origins?" I was far too excited to hide my smile from him.
"Two strangers at a gate with nothing to lose and everything to gain…"
