MANHATTAN, Eugene pumped away inside his future wife.
He was getting tired, and she looked tired and bored.
After they had the great sex last week, they decided to try again. They went at it every night. The initial repeats were almost as good as the first. Then it diminished in quality.
Now it had gone to shit. He’d been inside her for….
Well, it wasn’t like he’d been watching the clock. But it had been a long time, and he was tired.
Was she ever going to come?
Was he?
He remembered those days when he had to fight so hard not to come too soon. He'd think of non-sexy things like bird flu pandemics and Norovirus outbreaks on cruise ships.
Now he tried to do the opposite. Sexy stuff. Other women.
Katy Perry.
Didn’t work.
The woman in line behind him at Shake Shack a few days ago.
Didn’t work.
America Ferrera, both with her Ugly Betty style and without.
Didn’t work (which surprised him).
Jessica Lange.
Ah. He felt something there.
He got more into it. He fucked faster.
He was going to come.
Then he felt himself being pushed out—his penis back out into the cold world.
Shit! "What's wrong?" he asked.
"It's beginning to hurt," Anna said. "I need to stop."
"Okay." He tried to sound understanding.
"Can you get off of me?" she asked.
It wasn’t just his penis she was rejecting but his whole body.
He got up. "I'm going to wash up."
"I know," she said.
He left her. He hated that he had to finish things himself. Coming into wad of toilet paper was fine in his teen years. Now it made him feel desperate and messy.
He went back to thinking about Jessica Lange.
No. She was ruined for him now. He'd definitely always associate her with rejection from now on.
He tried America Ferrera with the Betty clothes
That worked. He came fast. Most of it ended up in the toilet paper but some ended up on the floor.
He cleaned it up.
***
The next morning, Anna was more of a mess than usual.
Eugene watched as she poured orange juice over her cereal. He wasn’t sure if this was accidental, or if she was following some type of new food fad.
He watched as she took a bite.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" She threw down the spoon. It bounced off the table and landed on the floor.
"What's wrong?" Eugene decided to play dumb.
"I put orange juice in my cereal."
"Oh."
She got up and dumped the cereal in the sink, even though they didn’t have a garbage disposal. Did she forget that?
She got the cereal box out and poured more cereal into the bowl. She took the milk out of the fridge and looked at it. "Two percent? What the fuck? You know I need to lose weight. I told you to buy skim."
"Don't blame me. You're the one who bought it."
She answered with an evil glare. Very evil.
He told himself to shut up; not because she didn’t deserve a fight. But this could actually end up being dangerous.
He watched as Anna poured the milk onto her cereal. Then she tried to put the milk in the freezer. When it didn’t fit, she gave up and put it on the counter.
She ate a few bites of cereal; then left it on the counter. She went into the bedroom. He decided to be nice by cleaning up for her. He dumped the cereal in the trash; then cleaned out the cereal she had dumped in the sink.
A few minutes later she came back. "Where's my cereal?"
Shit. Did she still want that? He should be honest. Lying didn’t pay. But he failed to take the noble road. "You dumped it out."
To Eugene's surprise, she believed him. "Fuck," she said. "Well, I'm not hungry anymore anyway." She then stubbed her toe, crying out in agony.
"Are you okay?" he asked after she finished her monologue of fucks, shits, and other such words.
"Yes. Fine." she said. "I gotta go. I'll see you later today."
She didn’t kiss him goodbye. Not that he'd expect her to.
She walked out and slammed the door.
***
A few minutes later, he heard banging on the door.
"Let me in, Eugene." For a brief la la land moment, he imagined she was coming back to kiss him.
No.
She forgot her briefcase. She grabbed it off the counter and headed to the door.
"What's with you?" he asked. "You're like a chicken running around with its head cut off."
She stopped, turned around, and looked at him. She said, "No, more like a chicken with two heads."
Then she left.
Eugene wondered what she meant by that. Two heads? Well, who cared what it meant. It sounded clever, and that pissed him off. He was the writer. So, why was he the one using cliche metaphors?
***
Later, Eugene watched nothing interesting on TV.
Then he checked his email.
There was something from a new website dedicated to the currently most popular subject. They had read some of Eugene's other work and were wondering if he'd do a story about people (living, OS, and ED) who were not supportive of the new communications.
He wrote back. Yes, he’d do it.
One of the OS women was willing to break her almost-vow of silence to speak to him. She was available for one day only. Next Wednesday. July 2.
He knew he was free. He wasn’t often busy, so he didn’t have to check his calendar. He did open it, though, so he could write this appointment down. That's when he saw it.
Anna had her thing this morning. She was being presented with some kind of women-in-business award. Shit! He had totally forgotten about it. No wonder she was crazy this morning.
He still didn’t know what she meant about the chicken, though.
He looked at the time. It was 10:45. The lunch was at 12:00. He had time.
***
Did he have anything to wear?
No.
Nothing clean, at least.
Did he have to wear a suit?
Maybe he could get away with wearing khakis and a jacket.
Probably not. Though there was no choice. It was too late to go to the cleaners.
It was too late to even go down the hall to the laundry room.
A suit couldn’t be washed in there anyway.
He put on the khakis and a jacket. Then he couldn’t find the shoes that matched.
How could so much get lost in such a tiny apartment?
He searched.
He eventually found very dusty shoes that needed polishing.
Did he have time for that?
Should he search for the shoe polish?
His FaceTime alert rang. He answered, because if he didn’t, Sebastian would just keep ringing.
He could talk while searching for the shoe polish.
"Greetings," he said to Sebastian.
"I didn't watch you having sex last night," Sebastian said.
"Good," Eugene said. "Thanks."
"I thought you'd appreciate some privacy."
"I do," Eugene said. "Again. Thanks."
"Where are you rushing off to? Anna's award thing?"
"Yes."
"You're wearing that?"
"Yes. Sebastian, you know I love talking to you, but I'm in a rush."
"You should have started earlier."
"I understand that."
"I'm thinking of crossing over—becoming an OS. I know you'll miss me terribly, but I figure it's time."
That was the best news Eugene had heard in months.
"We can still chat, but I won't be around to watch you and keep you company."
"That's devastating," Eugene said.
"I hope you're not being sarcastic."
"Of course not." More sarcasm on top of sarcasm. "Look, I really need to go."
"There's no reason you can't talk to me while getting ready. Ever hear of multitasking?"
Eugene had enough. He ended the FaceTime session.
As he predicted, Sebastian kept ringing. Eugene kept ignoring it. He finished getting dressed.
He shaved a bit.
He dusted off his shoe with some toilet paper.
He looked up the event online, so he could get the address (since Anna hadn't been nice enough to stick the info paper up on the refrigerator).
He looked at his phone as he walked out the door. Shit. 11:30.
Still. He had time. As long as the train came on time. If it came on time, he’d be early enough to use the bathroom before it all started. Could he grab a bite to eat as well?
Eugene imagined the train being late. That would be a mess.
Maybe he should take a cab?
No, he'd take the train.
The cab might be better.
No, then he'd have to worry about traffic.
Though if he went on the subway, he might end up in a car without air conditioning. He hated that.
He looked out for a cab. He saw a few. They were off duty.
He gave up and headed to the train station. He walked down the steps, reaching in his pocket for his wallet so he could get his MetroCard.
It wasn’t there. Shit! He left it at home.
He realized he also wouldn't have had the money to pay the cab. Eugene realized he'd have to walk.
Run…more like it.
He looked at the time. 11:40. He couldn’t get there in 20 minutes. He'd be late. Anna was going to be pissed.
Whatever. She'd get over it.
He ran north on Broadway, stopping at every light, so he wouldn’t get run down by a car.
***
He kept running.
He was exhausted by the time he got to Bryant park. He couldn’t go on anymore.
Fuck it. He was going to have to walk the rest of the way; otherwise, he might have a heart attack.
He walked up Sixth Avenue and finally arrived at the hotel. He checked his phone, ignoring the fifteen texts from Sebastian.
It was 12:10. Ten minutes late wasn’t so bad. He was sweaty and gross, though. Fortunately There were some exhausted tourists in the main lobby, so he didn't stand out too much.
***
It was a different story for the business center lobby. He didn’t fit in well with the suits, shined shoes and not-dripping-with-sweat foreheads.
Were people staring at him? At least two people were.
Wait….
That’s because they knew him. Anna's parents. They were here? This event must be more important than he had thought.
They walked up to him. "Where were you?" they asked with smiles. Where was he? What were they talking about?
"I had to run…forgot my wallet, so I couldn't take a cab or train."
Anna's mother laughed kindly. "Oh no."
"It happens sometimes," Anna's father said.
"Hopefully you won't miss the wedding," her mother joked.
Missed? What was she talking about? Was the time on his phone wrong? Was he later than he thought?
"Well, she did well," her dad said. He pointed to his phone. "I got some of it on video. Her speech. I'll email it to you."
Shit! "What? What time was it supposed to start?"
"11:30," her mother said. "Why? What time did you think it started?"
"12:00. That's what I wrote on my calendar."
Her parents looked at each other and laughed a bit. "Oops," they said in unison.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He had unrealistic hopes that Anna would equal her parents in their casual, cheerful reaction to his mistake.
He asked them where Anna was.
They pointed in the direction of a banquet room.
Anna was coming out as he headed in. She looked at him with fire in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She walked away without answering.
He looked in the room. People lingered, talking among themselves as staff began cleaning up the room.
He headed back to the lobby.
He watches as Anna hugged both her parents. When they left, he went up to her. "I'm sorry, Anna," he said. "I had the time wrong."
"You had the time wrong," she repeated. Then strangely, her nose started to bleed. Not a lot…just a little at the edge.
"Are you okay?" he asked
"Am I okay?" She was so not okay. She looked homicidal. "Do you know how much I hate you?" Great. He was a little late, and she treated him as if he had started a genocide.
“Aren't you being a bit overdramatic?"
She practically hissed at him. More blood dripped out of her nose.
"Your nose is bleeding."
"I don't give a fuck about my nose." But she wiped the blood away with the back of her hand.
"I made a mistake, okay?" he said. "It happens."
He noticed people in the lobby were beginning to stare, and this time it had nothing to do with him being sweaty from the journey.
"It's not okay," she said. More blood appeared, and she wiped it away again.
She started to walk away.
He followed and grabbed her by the shoulder. She violently pushed his hand away, walked more, and then stopped. She turned to him. "You know, this was one of the most important days of my life. Did you know that? No, you didn't know that. Because you don't care about anyone besides yourself."
Whatever. Now he was tired of it all. He made a mistake. He was sorry. But she didn’t need to give him this bullshit.
She glared at him; then her face softened. It changed from anger to sadness. She sighed and quietly said. "It would be nice if you could give me some support sometimes. She wiped away more blood. Then she turned and started walking away.
He called out to her. "Support? Really, Anna? Really? Are you serious? Fine! Why don't you tell me how many of my articles you've read? You read nothing that I write. How do you think that makes me feel? And my novel? Remember that? No, you probably don't. I asked you to read it, and you were too god damn busy."
She kept walking. He kept talking. "Don't you dare bitch to me about being late to your stupid award ceremony."
People kept staring.
***
It took two days for them to speak to each other again.
Before that, though, Eugene began to regret his behavior.
Not being late. That was an innocent mistake. But he shouldn't have brought up his own grievances when it was her time to act injured. He should have just apologized and waited for forgiveness.
He had been an ass, and though she deserved it, his timing had been off.
Way off.
Eugene didn’t convey all this to Anna. Nor did he apologize.
It was more like they eventually realized it was hard having so much tension when sharing a small Manhattan apartment.
At first they said things like, "Excuse me" (as they passed by each other in the kitchen) and "sorry" as they bumped into each other. Then later it evolved into nice things like "Do you want me to pick up milk at the store?"
Yes, she did.
When he went to the store that afternoon, he remembered to get skim instead of two-percent.
Continue to Chapter Twenty-Eight
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