The Sex Education of M.E. (24 page)

Merek was correct. As much as I denied wanting deeper intimacy, I lied to myself. I craved it. It was easier to brush off the need, because my husband was dead. What other man was going to give me those things? Who would want to hold my hand? Who would touch me tenderly? Who would hug me late at night? My own husband hardly did those things. Why would another man? My self-pity did not run deep, but my self-deprecation did. It had been conditioned over years of not receiving such kindnesses.

Any person can have sex with another person. I wasn’t fool enough to dismiss that idea. A primal need for that satisfaction could be fulfilled with any man and an imaginative mind. Fantasy is a great escape. But those baser needs were not fictional. They were a reality unreceived, and while I felt ancient,
damn it
, I was still young enough that I deserved such attention. I’d put in my time. Twenty years. I was ready to take back the person I truly was, for no other reason than that I deserved it.

The next morning, I woke up completely renewed. As a professor, years don’t run cyclical, but by school calendar. August was my January and I determined to begin this year anew. The first step was exercise. While I didn’t faithfully follow it — who was I kidding, I didn’t follow it at all — I decided I would walk at least three days a week. I could do this. Preferring the outside, I’d do it as long as I could before I was forced to use the indoor track at the university.

Donning my gym shoes, a work-out skort and a t-shirt, I hit the forest preserve trail by my home, and turned up the tunes on my iPhone. The brisk pace refreshed me and I was in a good groove under the cover of fully-leafed trees when I saw a man running in the opposite direction. I knew how I’d respond. I’d smile politely, say good morning and continue on with my day. But as the man drew closer, there was a familiarity about him that I couldn’t ignore.

Merek.

My pace slowed. There was no way to avoid him. We were the only two on the trail and he’d spotted me. I could run for the trees, but that would silly, not to mention, my shirt was hot pink and I’d stand out wherever I tried to hide. Merek stopped abruptly and walked the few steps that separated us. He had sweat rolling off his body. It should have been disgusting, but it was strangely hot. Jealous of a bead that caressed down the side of his face, I swallowed back the ache inside me.

“Good morning.”

“Hey,” he replied. We stood for a moment in silence, awkward, and unfamiliar, as if we were strangers.

“I didn’t know you ran. I mean, of course, you run. Look at you. I mean, I’ve looked at you, but…” Closing my eyes, I inhaled. Could the verbal vomit not start? I was nervous, when I shouldn’t be. I’d seen this man naked, but that’s what made me nervous. We’d hardly spend time together clothed.

“Do you walk here often?”

I laughed. “That sounds like a pick-up line.”

“I wasn’t trying to pick you up,” he deadpanned, and my heart fell to my feet.

“Oh … I …” I brushed a piece of hair behind my ear.

“Where are you headed?” he asked

“Just to the end of the trail and back,” I offered, my finger working harder on that wayward piece of hair.

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“Weren’t you going the other way?” I paused. “You’re clearly trying to get in a work-out and I’m not a runner.”

“Emme, if you don’t want me to walk with you, just say no.” He dropped his tone. His hands came to his hips as he looked away.

“I …” Yes. No. Maybe so. “I’d like that.”

He lifted the edge of his shirt and wiped away the heavy sweat on his forehead. He twisted to face my direction and we fell into step next to one another.

Is it strange that I’m okay with silence? I typically am, but the need to speak gnawed at me.

“What are you listening to?” His head inclined to the phone.

“Oh, Sam Hunt. My kids are trying to convert me to country artists.”

“Ever been line dancing?” he laughed.

“Merek, you know I don’t dance,” I stated. My breath caught after the comment.

“Maybe we need to change that,” he said quietly. His eyes forward and his jaw clenched; my heart leapt with hope. As we neared the end of the trail, Merek noted that a coffee shop was up the street.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“What?” He nearly shrieked like a teenage girl. “That is sacrilegious. I can never see you again, if you don’t like coffee, woman.”

“I didn’t realize you were going to see me again,” I offered, teasingly.

“One can only hope.” We fell silent waiting for the crosswalk. Cross the street or stop. A metaphor flashed in my mind.

“I could still walk with you, if you want to grab a cup.” I nodded in the direction of the coffee shop, and Merek held out his hand to lead the way.

He sipped the black brew slowly as we retraced our steps back through the forest preserve. We chatted minimally, ignoring topics like his ex-wife and my deceased husband. He mentioned Cassie enrolling at NEU for the next semester. I mentioned Mitzi would be starting her senior year, and we’d begin the college decision-making process.

“Ah, to be young again,” he sighed. I smiled in return.

“If only I’d met you sooner,” he shrugged. We neared the end of the path, and I ached at the thought of walking away. Our time together seemed rather final.

“If you met me earlier, you’d never be interested in a girl like me.” My brush-off-giggle attempted to lighten the moment.

“Why not?”

“I had commitment written all over me, and you, my friend, are a player.” It was his turn to smile sheepishly.

“I might not have been, had I met the right woman.”

“Well, it still probably wouldn’t have been me. Straight-laced, buttoned up tight, you wouldn’t have noticed the wallflower.”

“Maybe. But then again, the quiet ones always have a secret, wild side.” His eyebrows wiggled deviously up and down. I had to laugh, if for no other reason than the truth of his words. He did make me a little out of control when we were physically together. I would miss that part of him and me.

“I guess I did it all backwards with you,” I shrugged, trying to play off what I was about to say next. “I mean, I had sex with you first, when typically, you date first, then have sex. Who wants to climb uphill when you start at the top, right?” I huff-laughed.

“Emme,” he paused as we reached the crossroad again. His house was straight ahead. “I feel like I should ask you to dinner. Like a real date, but I have to work the next two shifts.”

“Oh.” I waved dismissively. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do me favors. You already did, right?” I laughed again, the sound faltering. I wasn’t bitter. It was true. Merek Elliott had slept with me when I wanted someone to have sex with me. With the light of a new day, I tried to face the reality.

“Emme, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but I don’t really need dinner,” I said, stepping away from him in the direction of my home. “I think breakfast dates are better.” My smile hinted. His head tilted to the side.

“Breakfast dates?” he questioned, his brows pinching.

“Yeah, no one ever has breakfast dates. Eggs, bacon…coffee, too, I suppose. It sounds much better than a stuffy dinner.”

“Breakfast dates?” The curve of his lip exposed that damn dimple. We lingered in the side street for a moment. I wasn’t ready to say those final two words. I slowly sauntered away from him, stepping backward while I faced him. Almost across the street from him, I turned for home.

“How about Thursday morning?” He called out to me. “I know the perfect place nearby.” I turned back to face him and signaled the direction of his house with his head.

“What are we doing?” I laughed, shaking my head.

“We’re making a date. For breakfast.”

For a week straight, we met. We walked together and I looked forward to each date, as he called them. I missed the touch of him, and he didn’t reach for me, but we talked. He shared anecdotes of the firehouse and how he really wanted to be an architect. I knew the reasons why he wasn’t. He told me about his parents who had both died: his father from complications during a fire, his mother from cancer over a year ago. He’d lived with them while he raised his children, and he told me his family was everything to him. His younger brother was his best friend, even though he was upset that Marshall wasn’t taking his future fatherhood seriously.

Not wanting to bog him down with tales of Nate, I shared with him how I loved reading and dabbled with writing. I always wanted to write the great American novel, emphasized by air quotes. He said I was smart enough and I laughed. Smart was never something I’d heard from Nate. He didn’t believe in that dream of mine, and after his first negative comment in regards to writing in general, I held that dream a secret. Merek knew I taught literature and it turned out Cassie was in my sophomore level course on short stories in the new semester. She needed to make up a credit or three before she was fully admitted to junior status.

I enjoyed our time together, but each day I felt a little emptier when we parted. There was no hint anything else would happen between us. Merek and I were clearly becoming friends, and as I had said to him one day, everyone could use new friends. However, friendship wasn’t the only thing I wanted with him, and I realized it was time to either take action or walk away. The problem was, I had no clues from Merek which direction he wanted things to go. He was honest and direct, if he had to work at the club, or if he had a shift. He didn’t mention dates, or arrangements, or any other sexual innuendo, and I could only hope he wasn’t with other women.

On a Monday, we were supposed to meet once again, and for the first time, Merek didn’t show. I waited patiently for fifteen minutes. I still had his number, but I didn’t want to use it, not wanting to appear needy. Need passed to concern, and at the fifteen-minute mark, I texted him.

You coming?

It sounded so suggestive and I laughed out loud, literally. Hopeful he’d find it humorous as well, I panicked when he didn’t respond after two minutes. I took one more final look toward his street, and decided I needed to walk off the steam building inside me. I’d been stood up.

The forest preserve trail, throughout Chicago, twisted and curved through sections of woods scattered among the city neighborhoods. For some reason, Robert Frost’s poem, “A Road Not Taken,” filtered into my mind, and I focused over and over on the concept of two roads and divergence. I’d been on one path my whole life. I married my college sweetheart. We had the two kids, the perfect home, and the appearance of an ideal life, but I can’t say I was ever happy. I should have been. God forgive me, I should have been. The road was well traveled in the direction I paced. And even with the bump of Nate’s affair, I still stayed on the path. But I was ready to diverge.

Merek might not be the man for me, but he had sparked something long-repressed. He was the opposite of all that I had known. His fireman status, colorful tattoos, and player mentality were very different from Nate’s clean cut, business suit, accountant ways. I wanted to veer off on the road less travelled, which was scary and unknown, but thrilling. While I loved learning about Merek as a person, I could not deny, I loved what his body had done to me weeks ago. I was the road less travelled; hardly noticeable, but still present under the decay of years. And like the great poem, either path might result in the same destination, but it was the journey I needed to enjoy.

I returned home a bit somber from my walk and noticed I had three missed calls from Gia. I didn’t understand how I could miss them as the phone was in my hand, but I was still considered technologically incapacitated when it came to all functions of the phone.

Clicking into the first voice mail, Gia’s voice was calm but adamant: Call me.

The second sounded a bit frantic: Emme, have you heard anything?

The final one, complete panic: OMG! Call me immediately.

Pressing her contact, I didn’t hear one ring before she answered.

“Holy horses, where’s the fire?” I laughed.

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” My voice lowered, my heart rate increased.

“There’s a five alarm fire off on Northwest Highway. A lumberyard caught fire last night and the blaze has been going strong through the night. Merek’s unit is there.”

“How do you know this?” I exhaled.

“I watch the news.”

“Not that, about Merek.”

“Jacob’s home alone. I went to check on him.”

“Where’s Cassie?”

“Jacob doesn’t know.”

“Oh my God. This is terrible. And Merek?”

“He’s been part of the team on the scene. He was interviewed at some point and he was on the news. But Emme, the building collapsed and some men are unaccounted for at the moment.”

“Dear God,” I whispered. The reality of Merek’s job caught up to me. He mentioned the training and the strength needed to battle a blaze. Physical upkeep was important for jobs like his.

“What should I do?”

“Text Merek, although I doubt he’ll answer.”

I hung up and texted immediately.

Are you okay?

I didn’t have Jake’s cell phone number, and like most modern people, Merek didn’t have a landline phone. Sometimes, I hated modern technology. Hours passed and I heard nothing. What should I do? I wondered. What would I do if he were injured? Easy, go to the hospital. What if it were worse? I refused to think that way but thoughts of Nate’s heart attack and death tapped at my brain. I couldn’t lose Merek. We’d just started forging a new path with each other. I wanted to see where the trail would take us. I wasn’t ready to lose him.