Wait for Me (17 page)

“Good afternoon,” Adam answered.

She shelved a few boxes in the closet and sat at the computer to print the order. I was grappling with the second package – red paper this time.

“He told me you passed another exam too,” he said.

I noticed Sabrina peer at him, and then at me.

“Yeah, I should be able to graduate by the end of the year.”

“I'm glad to hear that. Any plans for the summer?” he asked.

To forget you, I thought. I curled the ribbon with a short, violent flick of my scissors. Adam remained unmoved.

“Here's your second book,” I said, setting it beside the first.

I picked up the third volume, a botanical textbook, then looked at the remaining seven. They were completely arbitrary. There was even one on prenatal exercises.

“Are you pregnant?” I asked, waving the book before him.

He gave me a wry smile. “I thought I could give it to your brother.”

“And the vampire one?” I asked sourly.

“For my niece.”

Sabrina understood that there was something amiss and joined me at the counter.

“We'll be quicker as two,” she said, with one of her smiles.

At that point I looked at Adam, staring at me provocatively.

“Thank you,” he said to Sabrina. “I think your colleague was having some difficulty.”

“Difficulty?” I snarled. “What do you even want?”

“I want to talk, if only for five minutes.”

“I don't want to. How much clearer can I be?”

“You owe it to me”.

“I don't owe anything to anybody and I have nothing to say to you.”

“Sophie, I need to know why you left me all of a sudden.”

“What?” I was shouting now. “For the record, we were never together. And don't deliberately misunderstand this Adam – you're much smarter than that.”

I put the remaining five books into a gift bag and turned to Sabrina. “Finished.”

“Me too,” she said quickly.

I pushed the bag across the counter and said decisively: “Goodbye, and thank you for choosing Barnes & Noble.”

Adam watched me for a few seconds, then his eyes slid over to Sabrina. He took the bag and nodded coldly.

Of course, the moment he was out of earshot Sabrina needed to know everything. I wanted to confess it all, but in the end I just told her that he was one of the assholes I was trying to forget about. That night, I woke up in a cold sweat. Sabrina and Steph were at the side of the bed with concerned expressions.

“Sophie, you were screaming like a maniac. You scared the shit out of us!” Sabrina said.

“Sorry, must have been having a nightmare,” I mumbled, clammy and confused.

“Take that sweater off – you're soaking.”

I peeled it off and wiped my face with the sheet.

“It's about that guy, right?” asked Sabrina.

“Who?” Steph chimed from behind her.

She put a finger to her lips. “It's the ten book guy, isn't it Sophie?”

I collapsed into tears.

“Yeah, I'd say you got it—” Steph whispered.

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Discreet as ever,” she grumbled, adding, “go and make some tea would you.”

As soon as we were alone, Sabrina perched on the bed. “So, it is about him, right?” she asked again.

I nodded.

“You guys were involved?”

“More or less. Well, mostly ‘less'.” I buried my face into the pillow.

“And you left him?”

“It's a long story,” muffled by the cotton.

“I have all night,” she said, gently unmasking the pillow from my face.

I sighed. “You don't want to know.”

“Come on Sophie, talk to me. Don't keep it inside – you won't do yourself any favors. So how much of an asshole was this guy?”

Meanwhile, Steph came back with cookies and sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “Alright Sophie, it's the night of confessions. I can tell you need to get this off your chest.”

“It's true,” Sabrina followed. “You almost erupted today. You had me worried for a second you know – I thought you were going to stab the guy in the neck with those scissors.”

“So… name?” Steph asked.

“Adam. Adam Scott.”

She frowned and repeated his name. “Sounds familiar.”

“He works in finance.”

“Ah, a rich boy,” she said.

Sabrina rolled her eyes again. “So, Adam Scott. How did you guys meet?”

“My brother's parking lot.”

“At this rate we'll be here for the rest of our lives,” said Steph. “Come on Sophie: Adam Scott, rich, met at your brother's place. I guess he's a customer? Then what happened? You hooked up? How long for? What next?”

“Steph, let her speak. Take as much time as you need,” she added to me.

I stared at the sheets and said it out loud.

“Well, he fucked me.”

Sabrina laughed. “Never mind, at least he's hot,” she said.

“Wait a sec!” Steph interrupted. “Adam Scott as in Scott & Braun Finance Corporation?” she asked, wide-eyed.

I nodded.

“Who is he?” asked Sabrina, turning to her partner.

“I think he's the vice-president of the company, but he's really interested in the arts. He subsidizes a ton of exhibitions.”

“Oh right, who cares? So what else happened Sophie? Apart from having sex with him.”

“I didn't have sex with him. He fucked me. Brutally fucked me. He's into bondage,” I said gravely, watching their disgusted expressions.

“Wait, we're talking S&M, right? Dominator and submissive?” asked Steph.

I nodded and lowered my head.

“Fuck,” Sabrina said, raising both eyebrows. “Did he hurt you Sophie?”

“It wasn't really the physical pain. It damaged me inside, you know?”

She nodded, visibly unsettled. “He didn't look the type at all.”

I told them all the details, from New Year's Eve, to the last night in that sex cult. At the end, Sabrina simply summarized with: “that piece of shit abused you.”

“I don't know,” said Steph. “It seems like he was pretty clear. I mean he explained it all beforehand, and took her there so that she could decide for herself. You did ask for it, right Sophie?”

“Is your brain even remotely connected to your mouth?” Sabrina snapped at her.

“No, but Sophie, you did ask him to let you try… right?” Steph persisted.

I nodded.

“And he did. What did you expect – the missionary position?”

“Oh for the love of god. Be that as it may, the point is she didn't like it.”

I remained silent throughout their back and forth. They were voicing the conflict that had tormented me since that very night; the trial of the guilty and the innocent.

“She's right,” I strained. Sabrina frowned. “Steph is right. I was the one who asked him to let me try. I wanted to know if I could tolerate it, but I didn't know just how much my past would interfere.”

“Don't listen to Steph, anyway, you did right to get away from him. Someone like that is only going to hurt you.”

“Sabrina, you're not getting the point of this though. Something went wrong, it's obvious that he—”

“Guys, please don't fight.”

“Sophie, how do you feel about Adam? That's what really matters here,” Steph asked.

I didn't answer.

“Sophie, if you say it then you might come to terms with it.”

I nervously started.

“I think I'm in love with him,” I hissed. “And, despite everything, I still feel so compelled.”

“No!” Sabrina exclaimed, slamming her hand on the mattress. “Forget about it Sophie – there are normal people out there and sooner or later you'll find one of them.”

‘Normal', I thought. Out of everybody I had been with, he probably was the closest thing to ‘normal'. Utterly twisted, of course, but at least he was conscious of the fact.

“You're right. You're both right. Listen, I'm sorry if I worried you both. I can't think about it any more tonight though, let's just get some sleep.”

“Don't worry, Sophie – Prince Charming arrives in every story, eventually,” Sabrina said.

“Prince Charming doesn't exist,” Steph replied.

“I'm just saying, don't give up hope that there's someone out there who is perfectly suited to us; who completes us, without complications.”

Steph stood up and took Sabrina's hand.

“Listen to you, Miss ‘Natural Cynic'. Come on, let's head to bed.”

Disheartened, I slid under the blanket, replaying the conversation. ‘Prince Charming', I thought. After everything, I found it hard to believe in fairy tale endings.

The following morning, I went to the parking lot at seven-thirty. I knew that Adam left at eight. He usually had coffee and then went straight to pick up his car. I waited near the café. He was on time, talking into his cell phone. He noticed me when he was just a few feet away, slowing right down and hurrying to close his conversation. With trepidation, he approached me.

“Hey,” he said.

I had a lump in my throat.

“Hey.” I managed the hint of a smile. My upper tip was trembling and, despite the warm day, I was shivering.

“You want to get a coffee?” he asked, adamantly.

I shook my head and tried to wet my lips. No good – mouth of sand. “I want to talk,” I said with a racing heart.

“You don't want to go inside?” he asked, brushing my shoulder. I recoiled a little.

“No, not here.”

“Shall I get the car?”

“No, there's another café a couple of blocks away, next to the grocery store.”

“Okay, lead the way.”

He waited for me to start walking and set off alongside me. The atmosphere was dense and my feet felt heavy on the sidewalk. I kept my eyes glued to the floor and held my breath. I couldn't look at him. His mere presence was making me dizzy. After two blocks we arrived at the café and took a seat beside the window, facing one another. The waitress took our order and left us alone.

“Sophie?” he asked, a century after our coffees arrived. I looked up.

He was so composed, looking at me like a concerned parent or guardian. I took a sip of coffee and set the cup on the table. Shakily, I began to speak.

“I just wanted to tell you—” I paused at his loving smile.

“Relax, Sophie—” he said gently, still with a touch of worry.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Okay, so, I had some problems… in the past,” I said, feeling cornered by shame.

Adam nodded slowly. “I know.”

“No, you don't.” I tucked my hair behind my eyes and inhaled deeply. This was not my first choice of location to tell the tale of the sphincter spasm. I was expecting the same snigger that overwhelmed the hospital staff on that absurd night with Albert. “Okay well, in short, my first time… it didn't exactly go well,” I whispered faintly, leaning in closer.

Adam parted his lips and blinked twice, anchored to the back of his chair and listening with rapt attention.

“Er, let's just say I had some problems with my sphincter. It's… er… a rare incident, almost impossible to happen.” I looked down with humiliation. “So, it went into spasm and we ended up stuck. Me and my ex, that is. We had to go to hospital… and, well it's not something I'd ever want to repeat. It was the most embarrassing moment—” and I started laughing, probably to avoid crying.

Adam, on the other hand, was perfectly motionless. I could not imagine what was going through his mind, maybe the scenes from our night together – images of him, unknowingly tormenting me with memories of my cursed sphincter.

The waitress returned and asked whether we wanted more coffee. Adam only lifted a finger from the table and shook his head. She understood that it was a bad moment.

I saw him swallow a few times. His throat was dry too.

“And, in the past, I've also had a few violent experiences. As in, men who left me with bruises – real bruises, and broken bones,” I muttered. “And, I guess when we were in that room, some of those memories came back.”

“I'm so sorry Sophie. I don't know what to say. I shouldn't be allowed near you… I understand it now,” he said, almost whispering. “I hurt you,” he added, his eyes darkening.

I shook my head and traced a smile. “No, but—” the words got caught in my throat.

“Report me – it's only right.”

Report him? Why had he even thought of this?

“I'm not going to report you,” I said softly, leaning across the table again.

“I accept what's happened,” I said. “On the condition that—”

“No, Sophie!” he said, pre-emptively. “I don't accept what's happened. I have to go.” He stood up, took out his wallet and placed ten dollars on the table. “I'm sick. I beg you to – as much as possible – try and forget everything.”

I caught his hand to stop him from escaping. “I don't want to forget the rest.”

I followed him outside, trying to keep up. I overtook him and blocked his path.

“Sophie, you don't know what you're talking about, and, please, I can't even look at you right now.”

I held his jacket and buried my head into his chest. “Adam, I think about you all the time. Every minute I imagine your body, your hands, your tongue. I want you so much you wouldn't believe.”

“I know,” he replied, taking a step back. “But you're fragile – really fragile.”

I lowered my head, praying that he would give in and hold me tightly, like he always did. I wanted to tell him that I still wanted him, that I could tolerate his needs. I knew he could feel the connection that we had. Or at least, that was what I wanted to believe.

“I accept what's happened, on the condition that—” I looked up at him.

He had an expression of the sweetest torment.