Chapter Five: Sleeping with Rachel Ray

I hadn't been in my apartment more than twenty minutes when I heard the front door bang open. "Hey, Idiot."

"Bathroon," I called while I finished brushing my teeth.

You live alone in the roughest college neighborhood, and you leave your f#cking door unlocked?" he bellowed as he tromped right on into the bathroom.

had on my granny panties and a Santana t-shirt. He stared at Ulysses's pooch.

"It's after midnight. What did you do with Jim, because if he's coming in here after you, it's going to get awfully crowded."

"I had him drop me off. I didn't know you liked Santana."

I made a move to leave the bathroom, but he continued to block the doorway. "I saw him in concert when he was in his audience un-appreciation phase. He performed the whole set with his back to the auditorium. But he sounded good. Do you need to pee or something?"

"Are you interested in Wilson?"

I laughed. "As what?"

"As a man. Stop that."

"I think Jim is a very attractive, interesting, lovable person. He!!, he puts up with your nonsense. And I hope we are friends. But would I want to date him? I don't think we'd mesh well. I think I'd scare him to death. Why are you asking me this?"

He looked sheepish. "He walked you to your car."

"He's chivalrous."

"You never get angry at him."

I thought, just for an instant, he was pouting. "And you think that's a plus?"

"I've never had a woman punch me before. Slap me, but not full-on punch me."

"You were drunk and offensive. Besides, it's not like we were dating." We stared at each other. "Were we?"

He shook his head. "Of course not – you're pregnant. Who would want to date you? Even the tongue guy found the prospect laughable."

"I wouldn't place much trust in the judgment of a man who thinks the significance of the retelling of traditional African American folktales is the representation of the dialect. Are you attempting to hold me hostage in this bathroom?"

"You're pissed at me now."

I was. "Why are you here? Did you stop by just to make sure I knew no men would be interested in me for more than a – what – a woman to rape? Was that your goal?"

He stepped backwards and out of the doorway. I slipped past him and sat cross-legged on my futon, cradling my pillow in my lap. I no longer felt like playing with him.

B.E. went to my refrigerator and brought two bottles of water over to me. He opened one and handed it to me. He looked like he wanted to sit beside me, but he pulled up my desk chair and used it instead. I handed him the remote control; he turned on the tv and contentedly flipped through the channels.

"What do you have, an abbreviated satellite dish?" he grumpily asked as he swallowed one of his pills.

"I'm poor. I have basic cable. Suck it up."

"How is Ulysses?"

"Requiring ten or twelve hours of sleep a night."

"You look pregnant."

"Gee, Blue Eyes, you're just full of compliments tonight."

"Why don't you go to sleep while I watch some tv."

"You like Rachel Ray?"

"I find her pert and perky," he said as he leaned over and pulled the blankets over me and turned off the bedside light.

I tried to watch Rachel with him, I really did. I tried not to ask, but I just couldn't resist. "How's Dating 101 going?"

He grunted. "Don't you have any alcohol here?"

"Preggers," I answered, pointing to my bulge.

"She won't let me get too close to her."

"Do you mean emotionally or physically?"

B.E. snorted. "Physically, Tiger. What else?"

"As the untouchable woman, it's hard for me to surmise what your goal with your old girlfriend is."

Rachel rattled on for a few minutes before B.E. said, very quietly, "You're not untouchable."

My eyes had begun to close when I felt him slide over onto the futon (on top of the blankets) beside me. He turned on his left side, rubbing his right thigh, and then draped his right arm across my waist. I froze, afraid and curious, but his breathing soon deepened into a rhythmic, soothing hum. He was sound asleep. Ulysses and I listened to that hum long past daybreak.

He jerked his head sharply several times, as in a bad dream, before rolling over to sit on the edge of the futon. It was around eight. He took a couple of his pills and then used his cane to hobble to the bathroom. I watched him. His hair was tousled and his face had the sleepy look of a young child who'd been awakened too early. He hummed in the bathroom while peeing. When he came out of the bathroom, he scratched his ss, yawned, and appeared uncertain of what to do. Finally, he shrugged and climbed back onto the futon.

"Just make yourself at home," I grumbled.

"Ummmm." He wormed his feet under the blankets. "Give. I'm cold."

"You could go home."

"I'm protecting you from crack addicts looking for money," he said as he scooted lower. I felt his feet wiggling around until they rubbed against mine.

"Yeah, Blue Eyes, the neighborhood crack addicts all know they can support their habits on the cash hidden in my futon."

His forehead burrowed into my pillow and proceeded to push my head off. "You're much nicer to cuddle with when you're asleep, Big Mama," he said as he placed his palm on Ulysses's pooch.

"No comment on how unattractively pregnant I'm getting?"

"You're pregnant, Big Mama, but not unattractive. Especially not when you're asleep."

A buzzing sound elicited a groan from Blue Eyes. He sat up, fumbled through his pockets until he found his cell phone, checked the number, then put it away.

"Hospital?" I asked.

"No," he answered as he got up and searched for his coat. "Old girlfriend."

"And you didn't answer? Shame, shame."

"If I call her with your big mouth in the background I'll never get her naked."

I missed Blue Eyes the rest of the day. The harder I tried to read my research on Simon Gray, the more I thought about him jumping at Stacy's call. My conclusions weren't happy ones, but I was, plain and simply, jealous. She had already had two bites at the apple and was working on her third. And she was juggling her husband as well. How did one woman possess so much appeal? Of course, she wasn't lumbering around with a tadpole swimming inside her.

My appointment with Dr. Castillo late Monday evening started off well. She had read through my file and knew of the difficulties I had had a month earlier, and she was indeed knowledgeable about women who had been victimized. She performed another sonogram; I could barely discern a modicum of growth, but she said Ulysses looked fine. She estimated him to be in his fourteenth week with a due date the middle of March. I would have left her office with an elated but slightly lonely feeling had she not told me, as she handed me the prescriptions for prenatal vitamins and an iron supplement along with an order to continue on bed rest, that Dr. House would be copied on all of her notes.

"He is, of course, still your doctor."

I stopped cold. "What?"

Dr. Castillo seemed surprised. "Dr. House is listed as your primary physician, and, as such, he has requested I copy him on everything."

"Doesn't this violate the privacy laws, or good taste . . ."

"Audra, I took your case as a favor to Dr. House. If you have a problem with this, you need to take it up with him." She gave me a placating smile and escaped to another patient.

Blue Eyes had me imprisoned. I had intended to find my truck and just go home, but it didn't work out that way. As I wended my way to the parking garage, I found myself in the hallway leading to Blue Eyes' office. It was after six; his office was lit but locked. I kicked his door a couple of times just to vent my frustrations. I remembered him buying curry and having me escorted to his office before I barfed on Dr. Cameron's shoes. I also remembered the picnic on the rooftop. The stairwell wasn't far down the hall, so I climbed all the way up. The door to the roof was propped open with an empty wine bottle and I could hear a voice, so I stood back and peeped through.

The sun was just beginning to set. The lights I thought Blue Eyes had strung around the roof specifically for me were still there and were aglow. I couldn't see anyone, but it didn't take long to recognize the soft voice.

"What am I doing competing with Mark? Again?"

There was a noise, the sound of feet scuffling. I moved away from the door in case they were leaving, but he started talking again.

"It's agonizing, this. I'm never where I want to be."

The sounds of stumbling and a toppling pot sent me back down the stairwell. I hadn't needed to hear him pleading with Stacy; I dammed sure didn't want to watch it. As I hurried through the lobby I ran squarely into Jim.

"Audra, whoa, how are you?"

"Jim," I gasped. "Jim, I just had my, uh, first appointment with Dr. Castillo. I had a sonogram of Ulysses. Listen, do you have plans this evening?"

He shifted uncomfortably, not answering.

"It's just, I haven't eaten all day, and I was wondering if you'd like to have a bite? But if it's not convenient . . ."

"No, I mean, sure, that would be good. I just need to stop by my office first. Do you want to go with me?" He held his arm out for me to precede him.

I didn't want to remain standing in the middle of the lobby where I could encounter Blue Eyes and Stacy passing by in post-coital companionship. "Sure, yes, your office. Yes."

We began to walk back towards the elevators. "You seem a bit flustered. Was everything all right with your appointment?"

"Aside from my being held as a patient of Blue Eyes in perpetuity, everything was just fine."

We made it out of the elevator and into his office safely. While Jim hurried through some papers, I looked out his window, across the patio and straight into the office of Blue Eyes. Bloody he!!. I turned back to Jim and started to stumble through another attempt at escaping the hospital when the office door opened.

"Pizza or Korean tonight?" Blue Eyes asked Jim without noticing me.

I peeped around him. Where was Stacy?

Jim looked up from his desk with the pallor of a man facing death, or someone's death. "House, I, well . . ." and he gestured to me.

Blue Eyes turned. "Big Mama! Small world. Small office. Is Jimmy here scheduling exams in his office now?"

If I left, would I run into Stacy exiting the restroom? Surely she was going to dinner with them. No wonder Jim had been so hesitant. I realized I hadn't insulted Blue Eyes and both men were staring at me.

"Oh, sorry. My bad. Blue Eyes, the only one who gets to examine me these days is Dr. Castillo, but you'll be hearing all about that. And you're not the only one who's never where he wants to be."

I could feel the tears stinging just behind my eyelids. "Move," I croaked as I tried to shove my way past B.E.

"Wait, Audra," Jim cried as he came from behind his desk.

Blue Eyes clamped his big left hand around my right forearm. "Let me go," I whispered tersely.

"Not a chance." He pulled me backwards and closed Jim's door behind him, effectively trapping the three of us in a very small, claustrophobic space. "Is there something wrong with Ulysses – and no smart answer." He was leaning close to my ear. No humor in his voice. Jim had retreated a bit.

"Ask Dr. Castillo."

"I will. Now, why are you here?"

"I reconsidered about Jim. I was hoping to seduce him over a sandwich in the cafeteria. Do you think I still have a chance now he's heard my plan?"

"That would be a yes," Jim said from behind his desk. He laughed awkwardly.

Blue Eyes said, "I guess she could come with us to watch Roller Derby while we eat. God knows there's nothing good on tv where she lives." He finally stopped staring at me and looked at Jim. "I'll leave my bike here."

"My truck is here."

"Good," B.E. said. "You can drive me home while Wilson picks up the food." He turned back to Jim. "You'd better get pizza in case she's in a puking way."

I peeked up at Jim; he was just shaking his head. "Fine, yeah, whatever."

Blue Eyes and I made it to my truck without his releasing my forearm or uttering a word. Naturally, he wouldn't let me drive. Once on the road, he asked, "What did you mean by that crack about never being where you wanted to be?"

"Nothing."

"You never mean nothing."

"How's Succubus?"

"Huh?"

"Stacy."

He laughed. "She's mastered the clenched-teeth good night kiss. Why, do you want to date her now, too?"

"I don't share well."

I felt his body clench.

We remained quiet until we got to his apartment. B.E. put me on the end of the couch and wrapped me in a blanket. He brought me water and orange juice. When Jim arrived with the food, B.E. loaded my plate and delivered it to me. While we ate and watched large women on roller skates beat the tar out of each other, B.E. pulled my legs up onto the couch with my feet resting in his lap.

During a commercial, B.E. said, "Big Mama, Wilson's Jewish."

"Congratulations, Jim."

"Thanks," Jim answered with a mouth full of pizza and beer.

"Are there any Jews in Alabama?" B.E. asked me.

"Yes. Seven."

"Tell Wilson about your grandfather's entrepreneurial enterprises." Blue Eyes wiggled his eyebrows at me. He had begun massaging my feet.

"You grandfather was an entrepreneur?" Jim asked with well faked interest.

"He was the youngest of eight children and the only boy. Everyone just called him 'Brother.' His family was poor, so he had no chance for any kind of education. He had to help support them. He became a professional gambler."

"In Alabama?" Jim asked, surprised.

"Yep. He had the slot machine concession in northern Alabama. He'd attach metal plates with the name 'Brother' on all his machines and put them out in the general stores. Whenever the officials made a raid, they'd collect the machines without his nameplates, then they'd call him in. He'd pay them off handsomely so they'd give him the confiscated machines. He'd put his nameplates on those, and he'd send them back out to the general stores."

"I bet he pissed off the other slot machine owners," B.E. said.

"Wasn't that illegal?" Jim asked.

"Of course, but so was selling alcohol in dry counties, but that didn't hinder him either."

"He was a bootlegger, too?" Jim asked.

"Poor Oncology Boy," B.E. said. "You've disillusioned him."

"I'm sorry, Jim. My grandfather didn't have many opportunities, and he provided for a large, extended family. He did what he could."

"So, your relatives are all professional gamblers?" B.E. asked.

"My father, his younger child, is a chemical engineer, and my aunt is a crystallographer."

"In Alabama?" Blue Eyes asked incredulously. "In a trailer park?"

I ground my heel into his groin.

"Hey, now," he groused as he pushed my foot away.

Jim made an uneasy, grunting sound as Blue Eyes tussled on the sofa with me. As he pushed one foot out of his lap and farther from his groin area, he succeeded in pulling me closer to him. I started squirming, which caused him to lean toward me and grasp me even more tightly. Just as he pulled my butt into his lap, he slid off the sofa and we both landed in the floor with a blanket woven around us. Jim stepped around us as he made his way out the front door, saying, "Night House. Night Audra."

Things were suddenly too quiet. I was cradled in Blue Eyes' lap, my chest snug against his side as his right arm held me there. I felt him relax and lean against the sofa. His left hand stroked my hair. He pressed my head under his chin. "Is this one of those times when you're not where you want to be?"

Lie, I told myself. He shifted his right leg so my weight was angled on his other thigh. My butt was right on top of his crotch. My left arm was looped around his back. I couldn't resist; I leaned back and looked into his eyes, touching his face with my fingers. "No. And you?"

His hand on my hair tightened and I felt him gripping my head. "This is where I want to be."

I tried not to stop looking into his eyes, but as his face drew closer he closed his and I felt the first touch of his lips on mine. My eyes closed and he pressed into me, pulling my chest up to strain against his and holding my head still as he pulled and sucked on my lips. My mind was unsure, but my body was filled with an excitement and tension I thought I had forever lost. He moved his lips to my ear and whispered, "Just kiss me, Tiger." I started to make some sort of noise, although only a brief groan escaped because his mouth covered mine and his tongue played with mine, and I was just as feverishly stretching my body against his and clasping his head to mine and exploring the saltiness of his mouth as he. I couldn't get close enough to him. I wanted his tongue in my mouth and my tongue in his; I didn't want any separation. And the closer I tried to get to him, the closer he tried to get to me. This was not playful; this was consuming and consumable. This was primal. I made him stop: I grabbed his hair and held his held still and pulled myself away. We were both panting. I got up even though he was reaching for me, trying to put me back on the floor. When I left I couldn't speak; I just shook my head at him.

I had just, with one long, interminable kiss, lost myself in someone else.