Aversion to Love--- Chapter 4

A story about a writer

The world looks different from carpet. The world looks different when you're naked on top of that carpet. I thought we would make it to the bed; we didn't. Mike was passed out and spent. He was spent twice. I was surprised. I didn't expect much of anything. Nothing became everything.

F**k!

Mike didn't stir so I hadn't said it out loud. I couldn't blame the wine. I had two sips. Most of the bottle was consumed by Mike well because he wasn't going to go through it any other way. I wouldn't take any of it back. I had no regrets. This was exactly what I needed.

Change. Stability. Glue.

For some reason, the idea that we wouldn't ever be able to go back to the way we were was starting to weigh on me. I couldn't write about this. Then again, I could. This isn't about love. It was sex. The two things weren't synonymous. I got up from the carpet so I could start on my piece for class.

How can we choose to write about something other than love when that's what's in our face? Maybe this isn't a love story. This isn't what love stories are made out of. It would make things too easy. We're too complicated for easy but too simple for love. We can't fall into stereotypes.

I walked back into Mike's bedroom and decided maybe sleep would make everything come out easier. I crouched down near Mike and poked him in the ribs.

"Hmmm," he moaned, half opening his eyes.

"You might be a little more comfortable in your bed. You know because there are pillows and such."

He got up and followed me to the bed. So many things ran through my mind. If I stayed the night, would we look at each other the same in the morning? Maybe if I put my clothes on it wouldn't be awkward. Then again, it didn't have to be awkward at all.

Mike was just asleep. His eyes weren't squeezed shut. He was in a blissful, worry-free sleep. He was probably just so happy to finally get laid that he probably couldn't wrap his mind around who it happened with. Maybe it didn't matter. I could just be putting too much pressure on it. I tried to calm myself down and go to sleep. My eyes would have to be squeezed shut though.

I curled up next to Mike and laid my head on his chest. As much as I love pillows, nothing could be more comfortable. I slept sound and a lot longer than intended. I had the most perfect, soft pillow under my head. I didn't want to wake up and find it was all a dream.

Morning found its way into Mike's bedroom through his dark burgundy curtains. The pillow I fell asleep on was not the pillow I woke up on. Mike wasn't anywhere to be found. I sat up in Mike's bed and looked around for something to throw on. Since most of my clothing was stripped off in the living room I grabbed one of Mike's t-shirts off the floor. I put on the shirt and went into the kitchen. Mike was sitting at the kitchen table in front of his laptop.

"You know, Kel, I never noticed before but you talk in your sleep," Mike said when he looked up from his laptop at me.

"I have been told this on many occasions. Did I say anything interesting?"

"Not really. You kept telling me how comfortable I was. I didn't think you were going to let me up this morning. I had to use the jaws of life to pry you off."

"Sorry. You know what would make this morning awesome? You should make me pancakes. Next to your potato wedges, those things are a god send."

"Okay. I can do that. How many do you want? I can make them pretty big."

"I guess if you make them big, I'll take two."

Mike got up from the table and went to work on the pancakes. He only had on his flannel pajama bottoms. He was so pale and skinny. I couldn't really tease him about being pale because I am very pale too. I walked to the fridge and grabbed the butter for him. I placed the butter next to the stove and reached into the cabinet to grab the syrup.

"I wrote this morning," he said to me flipping a pancake. I sat down at the table in front of his laptop.

"Anything you feel like sharing," I asked him raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely. I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

Morning Wake

My eyes are always open. Sleeping dries up my eyes because I don't blink. I could be afraid to miss something. I see everything. I see every flaw and I try not to judge. I wish it wasn't so easy to pass judgment. It keeps me at a distance from other people. I want to care but I don't. 

You know what? That's a lie. I care so much that at night, I only pretend to be asleep. I put my brain on standby. Any movement of my mouse will jar me awake. I'm easily overlooked; I'm not special at all. It's not self-pity. It's self-awareness. I know what is seen.

Just a man in a box, waiting for someone to notice. Waiting to be that next big thing. I'm constantly waiting and I guess that what gets me. I know my patience will pay off. I know my big prize is on the horizon. 

I know it's possible I'm not always seen but I am always here. And just in case I think absolutely no one sees me, I'm reminded, perhaps, someone could.

"Michael, I'm impressed. This is a lot different than what I'm use to from you."

"It must be the sex."

"You know how much I hate to be right," I said sarcastically.

"Who are you kidding? You love being right."

"I know," I said back trying to fight through the awkwardness.

"Do we have to talk about this," Mike asked me. His face grew very serious.

"I guess. I didn't really give you a chance to talk about it before hand."

"Okay. First things, fist, it wasn't at all what I expected. Before you interject, I would like to explain. I thought I wouldn't be able to perform."

"Mike, you're 22."

"I know but I didn't think you would enjoy yourself. You looked like you were enjoying yourself so I must have been doing something right."

"Oh," I said my face growing hot. "Actually, for a noob, you weren't that bad. I think I've definitely had worse."

"So you don't think I was bad?"

"Of course not. You what's really funny? The fact that you care if I had a good time. Most guys are just concerned with getting off."

"Well, we both know I'm not like most guys. I just can't believe that it's actually helping my writing."

"Sometimes when things are boring it's hard to think creatively. It also doesn't help when you're frustrated. I was feeling in a funk too. Usually when I feel like that I masturbate. It helps."

"It helps you? It does nothing for me."

"Oh Michael," I laughed at him. "That's because your hand cannot replace a woman. I, however, have plenty of things in my goodie drawer that can replace a man."

"Yeah, I really didn't need that image in my head," Mike said shaking his head.

"After last night, nothing should shock you anymore."

"This is true."

"So are we okay?"

"I'm okay as long as you are."

"I know I didn't give you much of a choice. If we talked about this too much ahead of time, it would make things weird. Now things don't have to be weird."

"Right."

"I meant what I said last night anyway. I will leave this part out of my memoirs. It'll be as if it never happened."