The Sex Education of M.E. (17 page)

To say I was surprised when Merek texted me the next day and asked if I wanted to take a bike ride was an understatement. I first thought it was a euphemism until he explained it was another bona fide offer. After his crass comment about friends with benefits being slightly better than fuck buddies, I wasn’t certain how I felt. My body felt amazing, and I felt wanton, and wanted, the second Merek had me pinned to the wall. But my heart withered with this arrangement. He’d been so sweet to help me when I was sick, and tender as we had sex. Then he said what he said when we were finished. My stomach roiled at his words and I left shortly after he’d ruined the moment. I refused the offer of wine and decided to go home with hardly any dignity remaining in my new bra and matching panties.

- Want to take a ride?
His text asked.

My answer wasn’t immediate. I wasn’t certain I could continue with whatever it was Merek and I were doing. We’d been together three times and I knew nothing about him. Children? Job? Ex-wife? Hidden body parts in a freezer in his garage? I mean, what did I know? He gave me incredible orgasms, yet he wouldn’t kiss me.

But I took the time to struggle with a bike in the garage, pulling it out from the clutter surrounding it, and filling the tires with a handheld pump. I hadn’t had that kind of workout in a while and I was a sweating mess when I finished. I wrestled the bike into the back of the van, and then showered. I went casual, in shorts and a tank top, not certain what all a bike ride would entail. It was a beautiful summer day and Merek said to meet him at Irving Park by the lake. I was familiar with the large parking lot, as we had parked there for Cubs’ games years ago. The thought brought back memories of fighting with Nate about directions, and then his refusal to spend money at the park on hotdogs or drinks for the girls. He was tight like that. It was one reason I always had popcorn at movies when I went with the girls as children. He had refused the purchase when we were on a date.

As I parked near the tennis courts, where Merek had suggested, I noticed a man in a biking outfit standing next to a black truck. Spandex shorts hugged his ass. A loose fitting bike shirt hung over his mid-section. Helmet, gloves and narrow shoes completed the outfit of a man ready to race the lakeside. I parked near him as he fiddled with something on his fancy bike. Exiting the van, I came around the back, and struggled to remove my own bike.

“Beautiful day for a bike ride,” I huffed, as I hopped into the back and worked the twisted handle bar.

“Yes, beautiful.” My rear end pointed outward and I glanced over my shoulder at what sounded like a familiar voice. Standing at the end of the van was the man covered in biking gear, his face hidden by aviator sunglasses. His lip twitched in that telling grin and I realized it was Merek. Stunned, I stopped fumbling with the bike and turned awkwardly to face him. My tank top dangled forward and Merek seductively lowered his glasses to get a better view.

“What do you have on?” He asked breathily.

“What do you have on?” I barked with a laugh. Oh my God, we couldn’t have been more opposite with him in his sporting gear and me in my ragged shorts and a ribbed tank top. I walked hunched over to exit the van and he reached up to help me out. His hands were covered by the elaborate riding gloves.

“Clearly, I’ve misunderstood what you meant when you said bike ride,” I gasped, taking in his full apparel again.

“Clearly, I misunderstood,” he said, looking into the back of the van at the Target special, mountain bike, that looked like it came from a dumpster compared to his thin racing bike.

I exhaled deeply and sighed in embarrassment. There was no way I could keep up with him if his idea of a bike ride was for exercise or speed. I just assumed he meant a stroll along the lakefront. It confirmed what I already knew — Merek and I thought differently. And I was not in his league.

“I guess…I guess…I misunderstood,” I said again, rubbing at my forehead and trying to fill the awkward silence as Merek removed his riding glove.  “I mean, you’re dressed for a race,” I giggled, nervously. “And I … am not.”

“Where’s your helmet, at least?”

“I don’t have one.” As if that decided things, I turned to close the van. “I think I’ll just go. You go have fun. This was my mistake.” My humiliation mingled with irritation. His sleek bike and riding outfit was another reminder Merek was very physically fit, and I was not. It also was a reminder of the young girl he cornered at the club. It made sense that he preferred younger, more active women. As I slammed shut the van door, Merek’s hand came to my arm.

“Just wait.” He paused.

My chest rose heavily with the exertion of climbing in and out of the van, then shutting the heavy back door.

“Give me a second. I’ll change.” His lips twisted. “No peeking.” He opened the door of his truck and slipped inside. I remained next to his large vehicle, confused. Stepping out of his truck, he now wore sport shorts. His feet were covered in regular gym shoes. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“We’ll just rent the blue bikes,” he offered. “We can ride where we want and park them when we’re done.” He dragged a t-shirt over his head, covering those tattoos and firm abs. I stared at him in wonder.

“Emme, you with me?” He smirked. He reached out his hand and I took it, letting the warmth wrap around me and drag me over to the blue bike display. He paid for two bikes and then told me we were headed south toward the city.

The Chicago lakefront bike trail is an active place. The majestic lake with a back drop of the city is a juxtaposition of nature and industry. It’s gorgeous. The trail was difficult to ride side by side and Merek let me lead, setting the pace as we passed runners, walkers, and intense bike riders. We followed the curve around North Avenue Beach and continued on until we reached Navy Pier. The ride was peaceful despite the bustle of traffic to the right and pedestrians to the left. The time allowed for thought instead of conversation and after the awkwardness of our first meeting this morning, I relished the silence.

Merek and I were different in so many ways. I often wondered what I possibly did for him, as I knew what he did for me. He taught me to use my body to seek pleasure, and I was more than satiated after my year-long dry spell. Could I go back to being alone? Probably not. Did I feel more confident to seek out others? Possibly a little. Could I move on from Merek? My first thought was absolutely not, but when I questioned again what I did for him, the answer had to shift to a maybe.

I’d already had twenty years of ups and downs, with mediocre sex, and Merek had taught me there was more to the experience. What I also realized was that I wanted more than just the experience of sex. I wanted a relationship. I wanted the emotion behind sex. I didn’t have to have marriage, but someone committed to me, who wanted only me, didn’t seem like too much to ask. Thoughts like these forced my mind to the horrible parts of my marriage. The parts I swore I’d never take, but did. I shook my head to rid the thoughts, pulling myself back to the beautiful day. Merek rode up next to me and reached out for my handle bars.

“Hey,” I laughed as we almost collided. “You’re going to wreck us.” His hand remained on my handlebar, but he balanced in a way that we were parallel to one another.

“I don’t want to ever do that,” he said, and my head swung to look at him. The tone of his voice hinted at something more.

“Let’s stop up here.” He nodded at Navy Pier. “We can take a cab back to Lincoln Park.” I nodded, sad to see the ride end, but we had gone a great distance, and I didn’t know if I could cycle back the miles we had covered. We parked the blue bikes in another rack and crossed the street to hail a cab. When Merek ignored the busy pier, I decided he was done for the day, and this was his polite way of ending our trip. He’d compromised to ride the city bike instead of his racer, and he had missed out on a workout.

Entering the cab, Merek told the driver to take us to 2056 Lincoln Park West. I assumed this was an address near Irving Park, although I couldn’t be certain. It seemed easier to specify the park.

“Hungry?” He turned to me and my eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“I’m starving.” A smile passed over his face and his hand covered my thigh. Dragging his thumb slowly over damp, warm skin, a pulse beat at my core. We pulled up to a restaurant I hadn’t been to in years. R.J. Grunts was a burger joint across from Lincoln Park Zoo. The place was packed and I waited outside while Merek went in to give his name. Returning outside, he walked into my space, hovering before me as he brushed back loose hairs from my sloppy ponytail.

“Where’d you go when we were riding?”

“What do you mean?”

He tapped my forehead. “In here. Where did you go?”

“Nowhere,” I lied. Hoping to change the subject, I said, “I thought we rode too far and you were done with me.” I tried to tease.

It was his turn to be surprised. His hands brushed up and down my sticky arms.

“I’m not sure I can be done with you, Emme.” His tone was serious a moment as he brushed at a wayward hair by my ear. “But I was tired of being behind you. I mean, I liked looking at your ass, but I wanted to talk to you and it was hard to be side by side on the trail.”

I stared at this man, who was a constant conundrum to me.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“The Lake, the people, anything. I just …” His voice trailed off as the buzzer for our table vibrated in his pocket. He pointed for me to lead the way and I inhaled the glorious scent of cheeseburger heaven, the conversation forgotten for the moment. I didn’t need a menu to know exactly what I was ordering, but I picked it up all the same.

“You aren’t going to be one of those women who order only salad, then eat half of it, are you?” He laughed looking at me over the menu.

“Do I look like I eat only salad?” I joked. His menu dropped to the table.

“I hate when you talk like that.” His voice serious again.

“I…”

“I think you’re beautiful, and I like your body. A lot. So I wish you’d stop.”

“I … I’m sorry.” I didn’t even know if an apology was the right response. I wasn’t used to compliments at all. Nate was similar to Merek in that he worked out constantly. But his comments about my body were quite the opposite. His remarks at the potential for improvement only left me self-conscious. Instead of motivating me to work out like him, it often discouraged the desire to change my body. I’d never been perfectly slim, and having children changed my shape entirely.

Merek stared at me across the table and my nervousness made me reach for the glass of water before me. His hand shot out to cover mine and water spilled over the rim a little.

“Hey, don’t do that.” His voice was firm, his grip hard as I balanced the glass between us. His eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel that this has to do with someone other than me?”

“I guess because it does.” Merek released my hand and I set the water down, no longer interested in my thirst. He glanced out the window at his side before he responded, “No disrespect to the dead, but he seems like a douche bag.”

I was silent. Could I disrespect the dead? Could I share secrets of Nate that I swore I’d take to my grave? It didn’t seem appropriate to tell Merek, and yet, Merek seemed like exactly the right person to hear my story.

“Nate wasn’t perfect. He was a good man in many ways, but he certainly wasn’t a saint. I can’t say when things changed, when we went from this spontaneous combustion to a fizzled flame, but it happened. Maybe it wasn’t how I remembered and it was always just a slow burn with no spark. Maybe it was having kids. Maybe it was me. It was certainly him.” I paused to take a sip of water after all.

“At some point, he didn’t want to be a father anymore. He didn’t want to be a husband. He had an affair.” I swallowed hard. “Most women swear they’d leave a man who did that. They wouldn’t take that shit, but I had two small kids and I wasn’t working. I didn’t know what to do.” Merek’s eyes focused on the table.

“I took his apology and his promises, and I let him come home. Then I went to work, and we were happy.” I swallowed deep. “No, not happy. That’s not the word. Content. We coasted. He wasn’t a gentleman any longer, and I told myself I was okay with it. When he died, I was lost, but not for reasons people would think.” Merek looked up at me, and it was my turn to look away. I sounded pathetic to myself. I was an educated woman and yet I hadn’t made an intelligent decision. I made an emotional one. If he wasn’t interested in my tale, he’d hear it anyway. I didn’t have the strength to stop.

“I was lost because I felt like I’d given up so much time. I’d lost me along the way. I regained it a little when I went to work. The girls were too young to know the difference of who I was and who I am. Pieces of me were missing for so long. When he died, I felt empty, but not for him. For me.”

I decided I needed to be finished. I’d just shared too much information, and Merek clearly wasn’t interested. I turned to look out the window and noticed a group of college girls sitting on the fence rail, waiting to enter RJ Grunts. My thoughts sank, just like my heart. I’d spilled so much of my history, and assumed Merek wasn’t listening, just like Nate.