Sweet Thing (11 page)

It was an extremely hot summer in New York. I spent a lot of time in the cool air-conditioning at Kell’s, looking at bridal magazines and goofing off with Jenny. We sent out invitations for her engagement party that we planned to have at Kell’s. I continued dating Robert. We mostly reserved our dates for every other Saturday when Jacob was with his mom. We shared plenty of fancy dinners and not-so-titillating conversations about the “good ol’ days” of banking. One night after a little too much champagne, I invited Robert back to my apartment. We hadn’t slept together and he probably wondered how many more tease sessions from the schoolgirl he would have to endure.

The apartment was dark. Will wasn’t home, so Robert followed me to my room. We removed our clothes hurriedly like we didn’t have much time. It made me feel like a teenager. Robert tried to be sexy, but he just seemed awkward. I flew onto the bed and positioned myself in a silly, sexy pose, lying on my side with my arm propped under my head. Robert laughed—it wasn’t exactly the reaction I was going for, but I could see he was clearly affected. He crawled on top of me, spreading my legs apart with his knees. His weight was on his forearms, positioned on each side of my head. He wasted no time… or shall I say, spent no time, doing anything else before he was inside of me.

“Ow,” I mumbled.

“Oh, sorry, am I hurting you? I’ll stop.”

Don’t flatter yourself.

“No, your arms are on my hair. It’s hurting my neck.”

“Oh, sorry.” He adjusted his arms awkwardly before letting out a big moan and then he was done.

It was anticlimactic—for me, anyway. I got up, shot him a kind smile, and said, “I’m gonna get some water, do you need anything?”

“No, thanks.”

I meandered down the hall, wearing nothing but Robert’s dress shirt. I didn’t bother turning the lights on. I went straight for the fridge, hoping to find a ginger ale, since sadly I was feeling nauseated after our little romp. I opened the refrigerator door and stared blankly while I absorbed the cool air. When I heard a lock turn, I spun around and saw Will entering the apartment. It was dark, I couldn’t make out the look on his face, but I observed him quietly lean against the back of the door. I squinted my eyes for a better look, but it was useless. He was watching me stand in the light of the refrigerator, wearing nothing but another man’s shirt. I’m pretty sure he knew what was going on. I felt a tinge of resentment toward Will for being gone all the time and leaving me curt notes. I looked back, grabbed a can of whipped cream, and ambled past him, shaking my ass as much as possible. Just as I got to the end of the hall, I heard the front door close. He was gone.

Before Robert could spot it, I tossed the whipped cream into my hamper. I slid into bed and we talked. He told me his marriage had failed because he worked too much. He said he loved being a dad, but didn’t feel very close to Jacob because he didn’t get much time with him. The comment made me sad for him… and Jacob. I wondered how I could ever make it work with Robert if our relationship would only consist of a few insipid encounters each month. Then I let my mind wander to Will. I wished that we could go back to being silly, flirting with each other and playing music together.

After work the next day I came home to another Will note:

DEAR SLUMLORD, JACKSON HAS BEEN WALKED AND FED. I crumbled the note and grabbed Jackson’s leash to take him to the groomers. I decided to have him shaved that day. Shaving a yellow lab is not standard practice but it was hot and Jackson’s fur was all over the apartment. Anyway, he seemed like a happier guy after the shave, even if he looked a little weird. We left the groomers and headed to Tompkins Square Park for a nap on the grassy knoll overlooking the playground. I spotted a few café regulars and hippies from days past lying around on the tiny hill. I leaned back until I was flat in the grass and Jackson curled up and rested his head across my stomach. I closed my eyes to consume the ambient noise of the park that day. I heard the faint song of a harmonica and guitar and thought of Will. There were sweet sounds of children’s voices echoing in the distance, and I thought of Will. I dozed off, thinking of Will.

I only remember the last five seconds of my dream, which included Will’s hands on me. I felt the exquisite pulsing between my legs and sighed, which startled me awake. The feeling below, although out of my control, stopped abruptly. I was disappointed but relieved when I realized I was still in the park. Jackson was nestled beside me, sound asleep. Even though no one was close by, I could still feel my face flush as I thought about the dream. I wanted to remember more, but I couldn’t. It was dusk and eerie in the park. There were fewer people around, so I decided to head home.

As soon as I cracked the door, Jackson went barreling past me and right to Will, who had gotten down on his knees to greet him. “Hey, buddy, what happened to your fur? What did this evil woman do to you?” He continued petting and talking to Jackson. There were a few moments of silence before he looked up and said, “Hey.” He wore a small, sad smile. He was listening to God, but it looked like he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“Hi,” I said softly.

He got up and grabbed his guitar, calling back, “See ya,” as he walked out the door.

That night Jackson had another episode. It was getting to the point where I didn’t even try to move him. By morning he was fine and I couldn’t figure it out. At the café I did some internet research. It seemed like Jackson was having little strokes or quiet seizures. Either way, they were getting worse and I knew I would have to take him to the vet soon. I ordered some chicken from Sam’s to take to Jackson for lunch. While I was waiting for Denise to bring out my order, I heard Will playing “Pictures of You.” I loved the long guitar intro and even though the sound was muffled coming through the ceiling, I could tell Will was playing it perfectly. I grabbed the chicken and ran up to my apartment, hoping to catch some of the song. When I walked in and the sound registered, I stood there with my jaw on the floor. Will’s back was to me and he was singing in a perfect, melodic, and soulful voice. I knew Will wasn’t tone deaf; I had heard him sing a little before, but this wasn’t an impression of the vocals from the original song, it was Will’s amazing voice. He sang the next part with a vulnerable fervor that was so sexy my legs were trembling.

Screamed at the make believe
Screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage to let it all go I lost it and stalked over to stand in front of him. He immediately stopped playing. I pointed and shouted in the most accusatory voice I could muster, “You can sing! Will Ryan, you can sing! What the hell?” It wasn’t really a question. Why was he screwing around with that lame band? Why was he keeping his amazing talent from everyone? My inner thoughts were spilling out. I kept flailing the bag of chicken around. “The universe needs you, Will!” I said desperately.

He quickly unplugged his guitar. “I’m still trying to figure it all out. Please just let this go.” He never made eye contact with me as he hurriedly threw his guitar in the case, grabbed his keys, and went to the door. He turned toward me with a wounded expression before looking down and muttering, “I’m not sure about anything.” When he looked up, his eyes kissed mine. “You get that, right?”

Of course I got it.

Back at Kell’s, Jenny was looking through bridal magazines… again. “What do you think about this kind of arrangement for the head table?”

“It gorgeous,” I said unenthusiastically.

“What’s wrong, girl?”

My mind was going a million miles an hour. “Did you know Will before? He said Tyler was his best friend.”

She chuckled. “No, Mia. I swear it’s a total coincidence. Last year Will and Tyler met each other in a web design class at East Village Community College. Will ran into Tyler at the café one day and we put it all together. They’ve been hanging out a lot lately. I guess Tyler is helping Will do a website for some project.” She paused and then said, “Oh, I wanted to let you know we asked Will to play a few acoustic songs at the wedding.”

Will took a computer class?

“I think that’s great, he’s a very talented musician.” I paused. “Hey, did you know Will can sing, too? I mean, like really well?”

“Yeah, Tyler mentioned something about that. I guess The Ivans broke up and Will has been doing solo gigs at little dive bars and cafés.”

“What? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Well you don’t exactly act like you like Will.”

“Why, because I didn’t sleep with him?”

“No. That’s not why. Honestly, Mia, you kind of act like Will’s a loser. He told Tyler that he stays away from the apartment at night because he feels like he’s getting in your way when Robert’s over. He cares about you, Mia. He’s a good roommate and a good friend. None of us can understand why you’re so resistant toward him.”

“Well, he’s been leaving me rude notes and the other day he called me evil. And… and he… he… he brings women over!” I exclaimed.

“You made it pretty clear that he’s not your type. He’s a man; do you expect him not to date? Anyway, he said you got all bent over the fact that he brought a friend over. I’m sorry, I love you girl, but I think it’s a little unfair the way you treat him.” Jenny’s words ruined me because they were true. I tried hopelessly to explain myself.

“Will has a lot of good qualities, Jenny. I hope he and I can remain friends. I want desperately to get along with him, but I’m not a fan of the whole starving-artist thing. The musician who has casual sex with all types of women, it just seems trite. I admire a man who has hopes and dreams for his future.”

“Every man has hopes and dreams for his future, Will is no exception. You know so little about him and you’ve already concluded that he’s worthless because he plays a guitar. That seems so hypocritical of you. What comes to mind when I think of trite is the girl who spends one vapid evening after another eating expensive meals and talking about money with her rich, investment-banker boyfriend.”

“Why are you trying to hurt me, Jenny?”

“I’m trying to help you. I see you meandering aimlessly through your life.” She brought me into her arms for long hug. “Every time I look at you, I see the pain from losing Pops. I know you’re still grieving. I know Will reminds you of him, but I don’t know why that scares you.” I began sobbing in her arms. I needed to cry. “You’ll figure it out, Mia, and I’ll be here for you. I think maybe you still have more to learn about Pops and yourself.” She paused, then whispered, “And Will.”

Jenny’s decisions about marriage, friends, and career always seemed so rash to me, yet she was sure of everything. Every word she said was the truth. I
would
discover more. Once I collected myself, I took a seat at the bar and faced the window. Martha came over and brought me some tea. She had been in the kitchen, so I knew she’d heard my conversation with Jenny. “Thanks, Martha.”

“Hi, Mia Pia.” She took a seat next to me and held my hand as we stared out the window.

“I’m so confused.”

“You’re twenty-five and you just lost your father, it comes with the territory,” she said gently.

“Being here and living his life, it’s so dramatically different than my life in Ann Arbor. My father made decisions with his heart and my mom makes them with her mind and I can’t help but feel like I’m more like my mom, or I should be.”

She paused and looked straight ahead before speaking.

“You have to teach your heart and mind how to sing together… then you’ll hear the sound of your soul.”

It took me thirty seconds to process that single sentence, but once it sank in, I almost fell off my chair. I always appreciated Martha’s warmth, but I used to think her comments were esoteric crap. As I got older, I started finding profound meaning in what she had to say. Martha continued staring out the window. When I saw a little smile play on her lips I followed her gaze to see Will, who was standing across the street. He was in front of “Trax,” a store that sold rare vinyl and music memorabilia. He was wearing black jeans, his usual belt and wallet chain, and a plain white T-shirt. He was looking down with his hands in his pockets, talking shyly to a woman who looked to be in her early thirties. She had short black hair and a hip outfit and from what I could tell, she was pretty. She handed Will a piece of paper and then shook his hand; he pulled her in for a swift hug. When she walked away, he looked at the paper, then turned on his heel and trotted away exuberantly. I rolled my eyes.

Track 7: What Would J.C. Do?

The next week consisted mostly of me moping around my apartment alone. I wore the same outfit for four days straight. Everyone at Kell’s gave me pitying looks, but other than work-related topics, no one uttered a word to me. I was starting to feel like I lived alone—Will was home for all of five minutes that week and Jackson was becoming more and more sluggish. The engagement party was coming up that Saturday and since my standing dates with Robert were on Saturdays, I figured why not take him. It was time to introduce him to my pseudo-family. I planned to work and sleep until then, but Jenny wouldn’t have it. She insisted that I go to poetry night, saying that the grand finale was going to be Will playing a few songs. How could I resist?

That night the usual poetry party showed up. When Will and Tyler walked in together, Tyler came straight to where Jenny and I were behind the counter. Will immediately took a seat without acknowledging me. Halfway through the readings, a group of college girls walked in and sat down. They were giggling and eyeing him. Then the dark-haired woman I’d seen him with in front of Trax came in. She sat at the window bar and turned her stool to face the tiny, makeshift stage where a ninety-year-old man was doing a slam about waffles. When Will spotted her, he shot her the peace sign and turned back toward the stage. I didn’t know what to make of it, but she was obviously there to see Will, as was the table of giggling girls.