Life Goes On--Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Saturday was busy at the Habitat job site. There were about twenty-five people volunteering, plus a couple of Habitat employed contractors. One of the people in my carpool overslept so we were late getting there and were given the less popular jobs—as the last person to arrive with a car, I had lunch duty. I’m not sure if I should complain or not since it gave me a break from my other less optimal job—grunt work. The house was at the framing stage and when a wall was ready to be stood up, it was all hands on deck. Otherwise we were left standing around while five or six people did the actual work.

Nick was helping to build the frame, so there wasn’t much time to do anything other than wave at each other. Half of the exterior walls were up by the time I left to get the pizzas (five pepperonis, five cheeses, and five veggies) and by the time I returned the rest of the exterior and load baring walls were up and the roof was getting started; plywood was going up onto the walls.

I’d just set the pizzas out on a makeshift table when the foreman blew the whistle for everyone to break for lunch and I had to jump away from the mass of humanity that charged at me. When Nick reached the front of the line, he told me to meet him at the lumber pile while grabbing a slice of each. Once everyone had gotten their share, I was left with two slices of cheese. Yea, my sarcastic brain said.

I took them and a can of Coke, over to where Nick was sitting on the pile of wood. I noticed that he hadn’t started eating yet.

“I thought that you’d get stuck with the cheese,” he said, eyeing my plate as I settled next to him. “You can have either the pepperoni or the veggie,” he told me firmly, taking one of the slices of cheese off my plate and taking a bite. I took the veggie and thanked him.

“How’d you end up with lunch duty?” he asked about thirty seconds, and an entire slice of pizza, later.

“Jackson overslept and begged us not to leave him,” I told him, watching in fascination as the second slice of cheese disappeared as well. “Did you forget to eat breakfast?”

“No. Why?” And there went half his can of coke. I shook my head and ate my veggie pizza at a much slower pace.

“What are you working on now?” I asked him, taking a sip of soda.

“Up on the roof,” he said, eating the pepperoni slice slower. “Do you have a new task yet?”

“Nope, but at least I should get to do actual work now.”

“Hey, getting lunch is real work—you had to carry how many pizzas and sodas?” he said, nudging me with his shoulder.

“Ha…ha…..ha,” I said dryly. “I came here to swing a hammer.”

“That’s a nice image,” he said, putting the last of his pizza in his mouth and looking a little forlornly at the pizza still on my plate.

“I hope you get a stomachache,” I told him, tearing the slice in half and putting the crust-less piece on his plate.

“Well, if you’re going to be that way,” he said, trying to give it back to me.

“No, you go ahead and eat it. I’m good,” I said, eating my half contently. I had eaten a large breakfast and wasn’t very hungry. Plus, I was serious about watching my weight.

He refused to eat it and tried to put the half back onto my plate. I twisted myself so that my plate, which was on my knees, was further away from him before grabbing his wrist and shoving the pizza towards his mouth. I might be almost a thousand years old, but I’m not opposed to childish behavior. We wrestled over it for a bit before he let me win and I grabbed the pizza and shoved it into his mouth, my fingers included. I don’t know if he meant to or not, but I felt him suck on my fingertips before I could pull them out of his mouth. The intense look he gave me made me think that it was completely on purpose. I smirked up at him.

His face turned red again and he twisted away from me. I looked around the site, wondering if our teasing had attracted any attention. Michelle caught my eye and grinned, giving me a thumbs-up. I rolled my eyes, but she probably couldn’t see it over the distance. Everyone else looked too busy with their own conversations to bother with us.

Michelle, tall, pretty, ash blond, and a third year, walked over and sat next to me.

“So, what do we have here?” she asked, nudging me with a ‘heh, heh, heh’ laugh.

“Absolutely nothing,” I told her calmly, but shaking my head pointedly tell her to lay off. “He wouldn’t take the pizza, so I made him. Nothing more.”

“It didn’t look like ‘nothing more’ to me. Was that what it was to you Nick?” I sighed. Despite all my efforts to push her away, she’s probably the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real best friend. She’s the type that likes to tease her friends mercilessly and was probably going to take it into her head that she needed to set us up next. I needed to stop her before she got too excited about the project.

Unfortunately Nick spoke too quickly. “Just friends,” he said softly and somewhat hoarsely, still watching the rest of the job site. Michelle just laughed merrily at that.

“Sure.” She mimed wiping away a tear. “I’ll start working on the seating plan.”

I glared at her. “Michelle, don’t you have something better to do?”

“Nope. It’s my lunch break. It’s your lunch break, too. What a coincidence.” She leaned back against the lumber and turned her face up to sunbathe. “Nice weather we’re having today. Very warm for March.”

“Global Warming.” I told her sharply, but decided that the change in conversation would be better. “How’s Orgo?”

“Ugh, organic chemistry is the devil. Tell me again why I want to be a doctor.”

“Because you like to be the center of attention in everyone’s lives and being a doctor gives you that authority.”

“Ouch. But true,” her eyes were still closed as she sunbathed, not affected by my words. Michelle can take the teasing as good as she can give it…but I’m not sure if I was teasing. Nick was still looking anywhere but at us and I couldn’t see his face to judge his mood.

Luckily, or not, I’m not sure, the foreman blew his whistle to tell us all to get back to work. I worked with Michelle putting sheathing on the outside of the house.

“What was that about?” I asked her, probably a bit more testily than I meant.

“What?” she asked innocently, waiting while the guys lifted the sheet of plywood into place before hammering her side.

“You know what. You were embarrassing him…and me.” I said, hammering the nail a bit too hard.

“I’m not the one who was sucking on your fingers.”

“Irrelevant,” I said glancing at the two fellows who were helping us with the plywood. They were trying to hide their grins. “Really mature, guys.”

“You want one of us to suck your fingers?” Mike asked, lewdly. I stared at him in shock. I knew the look he was giving me. He was obviously ogling me. “I’m sure one of us would satisfy you if spaz can’t.” Both guys laughed.

“First off, no. Secondly, hell no. And thirdly, not if you two were the last men on Earth.” I dented the plywood when I hit my last nail too hard. “And if you wanted to keep all your pieces intact, you would have changed the topic yesterday,” I told him, glaring.

“Look, bitch, I was joking. So chill, okay. You don’t know me.” His voice was angry, but his body positioning was defensive. This guy was all talk.

“You’re right. I don’t know you, Mike. Or you, John.,” I said with false sweetness. “But you don’t know me either. You don’t know if I’m a black belt in Tae Kwan Do, if I’ve been hurt before, or what else I’ve been though that makes me believe that your statements aren’t made in jest. For all you know, I could be a murderess who turns on anyone who hits on me. I’m not, but I could be anything and making statements that come across as sexist, and maybe even harassing, isn’t very smart when you don’t know the person who is on the receiving end.”  My voice hardened as I finished my speech.

“Is something wrong?” Jeff asked, walking over. He’s the president of the Habitat club at the University.

“No, everything’s fine here,” I told him coolly. “Just waiting for the boys to put up the next piece.”

Jeff looked at all of us, his expression severe. “Gretchen, can I speak with you a moment? Privately?”

“Sure.” We walked over to the side of the lot.

“If they’re harassing you, I need to know right now,” he said without preamble. Jeff is a fourth year math major. He looks like one, too; an inch or two below average height, muddy brown hair that is too long, skinny, with glasses. He’d outgrown the acne and braces, but you knew that he’d had them in high school. But his appearance is where the nerd ended. He’s a very outgoing guy and not socially awkward at all. He’s been known to throw the best non-alcoholic parties on grounds and he may look like he’d break in half if the wind blew too hard, but he’s got that black belt and has been known to use it when someone at those parties gets out of hand. He doesn’t take any crap.

“It’s not quite so dramatic. He was being stupid and I hope that I drilled some sense into him. There’s not much else to do, without making it a bigger issue than it is.”

Jeff crossed his arms across his chest. “I don’t like it, but if that’s what you want.” He took a deep breath. “Nick isn’t going to be happy either, by the way,” he finished, a little more kindly.

I glanced up at Jeff.

“Yeah I noticed. He usually keeps to himself, so it was a bit obvious,” he said, chuckling. “I think you two will do each other good. The tough girl and the uptight scholar.”

“He’s not uptight,” I protested.

Jeff held up his hands, palms out. “I know, I know. He’s quiet. In any case, if there’s no immediate crisis, let’s get back to work. The crew coming tomorrow isn’t going to be happy if we don’t have the roof framed and the walls sheathed before we leave.” It was a hefty goal, but possible since the house was a small two bedroom, without any fancy architecture: just a rectangle except for the bump out on one side to make enough square footage for the bedrooms. Perfect for a newlywed couple with a small child to get out of an apartment and into the home ownership market.

When I got back to Michelle, John, and Mike things had calmed down considerably. I guess Michelle had given them her own lecture because both boys were looking a little sheepish.

“Sorry I’m a jerk,” Mike told me when I reached for some more nails to put into my belt.

“No problem. Sorry I gave the rant, though you did deserve it. And for the record, none of that is true.” Lie. Well, I don’t have a black belt, but I’ve picked up a variety of fighting styles, including boxing. Huh. Maybe I need to pick that up again to fit into my jacket. Anyway, where was I? Oh, and I have been hurt…a lot. “I just don’t like guys talking like that. It’s not funny and it causes confusion when one thing is okay to say, but something seemingly similar crosses the line. No hard feelings?”

“None.” We shook hands like men, though without the awkward half hug. “Let’s get this side of the house done.”

…

We were able to meet and exceed our goal and by five o’clock when it was too dark to work, we’d started putting sheathing over the roof trusses and cutting the holes for the windows. Alex, the burly foreman, called us all together to thank us for our work before inviting us all to join him at a local hamburger place for dinner. After rearranging the carpools for the people who needed to go home, we made our way to the restaurant.

“You aren’t sick of restaurants yet?” Nick asked, sliding in next to me in a booth. Michelle and Jeff were already sitting across from me.

“Nope. It beats cooking for myself. Though the consequences…” I trailed off, giving him a significant look.

“Ahh. I see,” he said nodding sagely, but not completing my thought out loud. I don’t like to publicize my choice in undergarments. Jeff looked at Michelle as though asking what we were not saying. Michelle just shrugged then giggled.

“You two are at the completing each other’s sentences stage? How romantic.”

I opened my mouth to tell her to knock it off, but Nick spoke first.

“You and Jeff seem awfully flirty lately. Is there something we should know?”

I burst out laughing. He’d said it completely straight faced while browsing his menu.

“Well, turnabout is fair play, I suppose,” she said. “We’ve gone out on a couple dates, but who knows where the relationship will go.” She leaned forward. I noticed that Jeff was looking a little embarrassed, but seemed comfortable enough otherwise. “I spilled, now you. I want details.” She was looking at me, but Nick answered again.

“We went to dinner after the meeting Wednesday to talk about class stuff and on Thursday I begged her to go watch a Jefferson interpreter because I’m too chicken to deal with my ex on my own. We had dinner before the show, as well. We ate Mexican on Wednesday, Thai on Thursday, and now we’re eating good old fashioned American hamburgers. She complains about her weight, as any woman is prone to do, which is why she’s been browsing only the salad page in her menu. I think she should get a cheeseburger and say the hell with her weight. Is that enough detail for you?” He sounded as uninterested as though he’d been reciting the menu and went back to his once he’d finished speaking. For the first time he wasn’t blushing.

I started laughing again. Michelle was in shock, her mouth hanging open. Jeff had buried his nose in his menu and was snickering rather loudly.

“I’ve never heard you say so many words,” she finally said, the awe clearly in her voice. “I didn’t even think you could.” Jeff elbowed her, but Nick just laughed.

The waitress finally reached our table and took our drink orders. After she left, I went back to sighing over the salads. Nick turned the page to the hamburgers and kicked my ankle gently, his subtle hint that he was serious about me eating what I wanted, and not worry about my weight. Otherwise he didn’t look at me. I took the advice and ordered a greasy cheeseburger, but got a side salad instead of the fries. If I’d blinked I would have missed the tiny nod Nick made.

Our conversation actually stayed away from our romantic intentions, or lack thereof. I’m not sure how Michelle kept off the topic, but she seemed happy enough to bash her professors. For a girl who loves being pre-med, she sure does hate her math and science classes. That’s why she was minoring in art.

It was after eight when we left the restaurant, and after reshuffling the carpools again, I only had two people I had to drop off, both who lived not far from me.

I finally got home around nine and immediately got into the shower to wash off what felt like a week’s worth of grime. I was in the middle of shampooing when I heard my cell phone ring. Fifteen minutes later I was dressed in my pajamas and walked across the living room to the table by the door to check my missed calls. It was Nick.

“Hey, it’s Gretchen. What’s up?” I asked him calling him back.

“Umm…I was wondering if you play video games.” He sounded a little nervous.

“I’ve played a time or two. You want company?” I asked, deciding to be nice and not make him ask me first.

“Yeah. I bought a new game yesterday and it’s for two people.” I laughed softly at the relief in his voice.

“Well, give me your address and I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

His apartment turned out to be just a couple blocks away from mine, but he’d requested that I drive rather than walk alone. I put on a faded Smurfette t-shirt that I’d bought in the eighties and a pair of well worn bell-bottomed jeans from the seventies. Did I mention how much I love this decade?

Nick was waiting in the small parking lot to walk me up to his apartment. It was in an older building with four floors, maybe twelve apartments total. Nick lived on the second floor in a one bedroom, one bath, with the tiny kitchenette in the corner of the small living room. It was decorated in “male college chic,” a worn, but comfortable looking sofa in front of a moderately sized flat screen television surrounded by DVDs and video game boxes that spilled onto the floor. Someone, probably his mother, had given him a landscape painting to dress up the otherwise bare walls…it was currently on the floor, leaning against the wall next to the bedroom door. The dining table near the kitchenette was covered with books and papers. The bathroom door was open and it appeared clean, though the counter held a scattering of male hygiene products.

Nick blushed when he saw me appraise his home. “Sorry about the mess…” he said nervously hanging my jacket on a hook next to the door. The days might feel like late spring, but the nights still had a slight chill to them.

“Oh don’t worry. My apartment often has minor hurricanes pass through,” I told him, laughing. “Where’s this game of yours? By the way, I suck at video games, so I hope you weren’t expecting real competition.”

“Here.” He handed me the game and flopped down heavily on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his hands shoved into his pockets. I sat, a little more gently, next to him reading the blurb about the zombie game.

“You know, that this isn’t just a two person game,” I said, trying to keep the humor out of my voice and failing.

“It’s not?” Nick asked, not looking at me, and not quite sounding shocked.

“No. In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d say that you asked me here under false pretenses,” I said slyly, my lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t!” he said quickly, looking up before laughing guiltily. “Okay, yeah, I guess I did. But I really do want to play the game with you…I just didn’t want to look like a total nerd.”

I laughed gently. “I don’t think you’re a nerd. Well, no, actually I do, but it’s cute.” I got up and turned on the TV and X-Box before loading the game. The controllers were already on the small coffee table in front of the couch and Nick’s blush was clearing up when I settled next to him again. He gave me a quick walk-through of the controls before starting the game.

“Wow, you really do suck at this,” he said four minutes later. “Is it really that difficult for you to walk up the stairs? Use the joystick!”

“I may have vastly overstated my video gaming abilities. My current game system is a Super-Nintendo from the mid-nineties.” I started laughing as my character walked up and down the same set of stairs three times before I got her going in the proper direction again.

“We haven’t gotten to the zombies yet and I’m pretty sure you’re life-points are half gone. Where the heck are you?” he asked, referencing the map.

“Lost. I think I’m supposed to stand still and wait for the search team. Got a granola bar?”

“No granola for you. Granola is for people who can actually be an asset in the fight against zombies….Woman…turn around slowly and walk in the other direction.”

Let’s just say that my first attempt at the game didn’t end well. I spent most of the time dead and watched Nick as he played, though he wasn’t an expert either, which gave me plenty of opportunities to demonstrate my utter inability to control the bodily functions of my character. At least I only killed Nick once in a friendly fire incident. It was nearly one when he tossed the controller onto the table and stretched. I’d given up an hour before and curled up to watch him play on his own. It was no surprise to see him easily complete a half dozen levels without my hindrance…I mean, help.

“So…” I said, looking up at him, my head on the arm of the sofa.

“So.” He looked right back at me and licked his lips slowly.

As I sat up, my feet connected with his leg. “I’m interested,” I blurted out quietly, but simply, letting him take the next step. I was tired of nights spent watching television after chaste kisses at the door. Nick was cute and a one night stand wasn’t going to kill me.

“I…” he gulped and closed his eyes. “We shouldn’t.” He stood up and walked towards the door. He turned around and leaned against it, giving me that piercing look again. An instant later his eyes were full of sorrow and regret. He bit his lip.

“Why not?” I asked curiously, not moving. His body language confused me.

“You’re technically my student, even if all I do is help grade papers. It’s not fair if we act like this.”

“I really don’t care about my grades—you can decide right now to give me the class average and I’ll be happy. You don’t need to feel obligated to pad my scores.” I stood up and walked towards him.

He held his hands out, asking me to stop. I complied. “Your grades will help you in the future. Believe it or not, many employers like to see that you’ve done well in your classes. So you really don’t want me to hurt your GPA by giving you scores that are below your ability.” And Nick was well into his comfort zone of rule abiding citizen. It was kind of annoying.

“I think that I know best what is good for me. If I want to slack off and face the consequences later that is my choice. So, can we calmly discuss the important issue in front of us? I’m interested and you’re hiding behind your job.” I closed the distance between us, ignoring him as he raised his hands again. “All I want to know,” I whispered, “is if you feel the same way. We can figure out what to next from there.”

He stared down at me, his eyes shifting from mine to my mouth and back. He finally answered me with the hottest kiss I’d ever received. He pulled me into his arms as his lips pressed tightly against mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips before probing into my mouth. His tongue stroked mine as one hand moved to fist gently into my hair while the other wrapped tightly around my waist, lifting me slightly. I had to grip his shirt to stay upright and kissed him back just as enthusiastically before reluctantly pulling back to take a breath. “Wow.” It was all I could say as my insides squirmed.

Once again, his cautious side took over. He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me gently away. “That should answer your question. But it doesn’t change the facts.” His voice was hoarse and his eyes were sad, but his message was clear.

I nodded, slowly, putting one hand on his arm to steady myself. “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. I shook my head to clear it before smiling up at him. “We’re just friends…who clearly want to make out with each other. I can handle that.” I smiled before suddenly yawning widely. The strange sound that accompanied the yawn did plenty to tell Nick that I was truly tired, not bored…I hope. “Sorry for yawning in your face,” I apologized blushing. “I guess I’d better get home.”

“I shouldn’t have kept you so late. You could crash here if you want.” He scratched his ear. “I mean we know where we stand with each other, so there’s no confusion. You can have the bed; I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You know, I don’t live that far away. And I have my car,” I said slowly.

“It’s late and you’re tired and…I want you to stay.” He said, his eyes lowering to the floor. “It’s irrational and probably stupid, but it feels right.”

I laughed softly. “Careful. My presence might cause you to do things you don’t want to do,” I said, wagging my eyebrows suggestively.

“Maybe I want it to,” he whispered so quietly I wonder if he meant to say it out loud. I smiled gently.

“I don’t want to kick you out of your bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa,” I told him, deciding to stay.

“No, I’m a night owl, so I’ll be up for awhile longer anyway. Feel free to borrow any clothes you need from my closet.”

“Thanks.” I stood up on my toes and kissed his cheek before walking into the bedroom. I felt his eyes following me the entire way.

…

I awoke when I felt someone climb into the bed next to me. I was preparing to break the person’s nose before I remembered where I was and realized that it was Nick joining me. I relaxed instantly.

“I thought you were going to sleep on the couch,” I whispered.

“Sorry for waking you up,” he apologized quietly, spooning up behind me. “I’ve been laying awake for an hour debating and I decided the hell with it. I want to spend tonight with you in my arms. We can stay away from each other tomorrow.” He let out a low moan as he buried his nose in my hair, “you smell so good.”

I smiled as I pressed my back more firmly against his chest. “This is just for tonight?”

“Yes.” His voice was muffled and I felt a kiss on the back of my neck. “God, I’ve never felt this way before.”

“What about your ex?” I asked curiously.

“Don’t want to talk about her.” He paused, “but simply, we were friends who decided to try something new. There wasn’t the same instantaneous…physical attraction.” He shifted so that his leg was overtopping mine.

I felt the same way. Most of my marriages had generally started similar to his previous relationship. I’d meet someone and he’d decide to court me. I’m not ashamed to admit that after a few hundred years I’d grown to be a desperate woman who would marry anyone who might have saved me from…well, life.

When I was first changed I assumed that it would be a simple matter to find a man to love me and to love in return. Life wasn’t complicated back then. Marriages were partnerships of mutual gain: men got someone to bare their children, women got security. That was “love” at the time. I have never felt real love, obviously, though I’ve often believed that I have. I followed all the rules and was repaid with, well, crap. Men who’d used me, abused me, ignored me, or some combination thereof. I’ve felt physical attraction to the men I’ve married, but that was a rare occurrence, and when I rebelled against society’s rules and looked to appearances first, I was often hurt the worst. The one’s I’d been emotionally attracted to usually turned out to be gay, bi, or a killer.

I’d known Nick for just half a week and I felt a connection to him like that I’d never known. There was the overt physical attraction, but there was also the emotional attraction. He actually listened when I spoke, something only the fewest of my lovers had done, and he respected my opinions, even when he disagreed with them. He’d also proven himself to be supportive of me being me and not just be some pretty thing on his arm. In short, Nick was a man unlike any of my previous. Maybe he could break my curse. That idea hurt. It wasn’t the first time, or probably the last, that I’d had this thought.

I drew in a shaky breath. This is why I’d sworn off men ninety years ago. I’d fallen too hard for my last lover (we’d never married) and after he’d died I’d hoped that what we’d had was enough to bring an end to my long life…clearly it wasn’t, which hurt as though he’d died all over again. I didn’t think I was ready to try falling in love again.

“Just tonight,” I repeated, entwining my fingers into his, afraid to fall asleep.

…

The sun was high when we awoke the next morning. I rubbed myself against Nick as I stretched.

“Good morning,” he said, nuzzling my jaw and nibbling on my neck.

“Morning.” I giggled when his thumb rubbed my waist. He lifted his mouth away from my throat and studied my face before actively tickling my waist.

“Someone’s ticklish,” he commented, mildly interested as I wriggled around the bed trying to get away from him. He tickled me relentlessly until I was able to grab his wrists and flip him over so that I could straddle his stomach, pinning him to the bed.

“That’s enough,” I told him breathlessly, huffing out the residual laughs. I looked down into his brown eyes, which were full of a strained emotion. I knew exactly what was going through his head: the heated debate between doing what felt right and what we knew would be best for both of us. I sighed before lowering my mouth to his for a kiss. It was gentle, but passionate; lasting longer than I’d intended as he removed his wrists from my hold and pulled me against his chest. I groaned as I broke the kiss. “I thought you wanted to avoid this.”

“I’m procrastinating,” he murmured, stroking my hair. I licked my lips before kissing him again.

I don’t know how long we stayed in bed kissing and touching each other, but when I reached for the drawstring on his pajama bottoms he told me to stop.

“I don’t want to do that.”

“Really?” I asked suggestively, reaching mischievously lower.

“Really!” he yelped, pushing my hands away and moving away from me. “God, the world doesn’t revolve around sex! Can’t I just kiss you without you making it complicated? It’s going to be hard enough to let you leave this apartment.” He looked exasperated.

“Actually, the world as we know it wouldn’t exist without sex,” I said dryly. “But you’re right. I’m sorry.” I sighed and pulled my knees up, setting my chin on my kneecap. “This sucks.” I pursed my lips. “I guess that we could pick this up again once the semester is over?” I asked, somewhat hopefully.

“I don’t know. Don’t you think that it would still add pressure if we have a set timeline? I think we should play it by ear and see where we are three months from now. It seems that neither of us can be trusted to keep things platonic, so I think that we should avoid situations where we’re alone together.” He paused. “But you can still talk to me about anything class related without fear of me acting improperly.”

“And when Nick the Lecturer comes out, that’s my cue to leave.” I slid off the bed and picked my clothes off the chair next to the bed. I went into the bathroom to change; swiftly tying my corset and accidently pulling it too tightly in my frustration. Then I got mad at myself for being frustrated: I was the one pressuring him. I took a steadying breath and washed my face before opening the bathroom door and facing Nick in our post non-relationship phase.

He was leaning against the door frame of his bedroom, his arms crossed; not in anger, but as though to keep himself from reaching out. I simply nodded to him before picking up my purse and coat and walking out of the apartment without looking back.

…

My shift at the food bank was one of the longest three hours of my life. I was in the warehouse, putting together the boxes that we’d give to people who come in. It had been easy to avoid thinking about Nick while I’d been busy at my apartment, but with just canned and boxed foods around me, there was little else to occupy my mind.

I wanted him. I wanted him in a way that I hadn’t wanted anyone else. And that thought scared me. It took me a long time to find myself, to become really comfortable with who I am as a person. I spent so much time transforming myself into the woman that I thought my husbands desired that pushed my own aspirations to the side. It was only in the past hundred years that society and my life situation combined in a way that made it possible for me to feel comfortable being my own person. But I had no experience being myself while being in a relationship. Few men I met wanted a woman who was active in the social causes and even fewer were interested in women who proclaimed a desire for more rights for themselves. Those men which I did meet who didn’t mind my ambitions were normally too polarized for my taste.

I’d spent a lot of time doing exactly what many opponents to the women’s rights movement promoted: women didn’t need specifically granted rights because they were able to do everything they wished within the confines of the laws that were. I had to play that game. The problem was, it wasn’t easy and it forced me to submit to a lot of things that I knew in my heart I didn’t want to do. I’ve always been interested in educating myself, but often this was impossible and I was forced to scrounge pamphlets from the men’s philosophical societies. I wasn’t allowed into the male universities and with my…affliction, I couldn’t challenge the society into letting me attend. The last thing I needed was my face plastered all over the history books as the first woman to attend Oxford to study medicine. I had some of the earliest motivations to give women access to further education, but I was stuck submitting to my husbands.

I think I got along with my gay husbands so well because they knew how much their own position in society was dependent on me. They allowed me freedoms, and in exchange I gave a cover for their own desires, but more than that, many of them had the quality to actually listen. They gave me a way to safely express myself in a society where those who stepped too far out of propriety were banished. But Nick isn’t gay, so we could be more than just friends.

Chapter 5