He was awful, I said. He told me he loved Yeats, can you believe that? I practically had to stop him reciting ‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree’ in the bar.
Wow, I feel terrible for you.
And the sex was bad.
No one who likes Yeats is capable of human intimacy.
We ate dinner without touching one another. The dog woke up and wanted to be let out, and I helped clear the plates into the dishwasher. Nick went outside for a cigarette and left the door open so we could talk. I felt like he wanted me to leave and he was too polite to say so. He asked how Bobbi was. Okay, I said. How’s Melissa? He shrugged. Finally he put the cigarette out and we went upstairs. I got onto his bed and started to undress.
And you’re sure this is what you want? Nick said.
He was always saying this kind of thing, so I just said yes or nodded and unbuckled the belt I was wearing. Behind me I heard him say abruptly: because I just feel, I don’t know. I turned around and he was standing there, rubbing his left shoulder with his hand.
You seem kind of distant, he said. If you’d rather be … If there’s somewhere else you’d rather be, I don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped here.
No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to seem distant.
No, I’m not … I feel like I’m having trouble talking to you. Maybe it’s my fault, I don’t know. I feel kind of …
He never usually trailed off his sentences this way. I started to feel agitated. I said again that I didn’t mean to be distant with him. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say and I was afraid of what it might have been.
If you’re doing this for any reason other than just wanting to, he said, then don’t do it. I really don’t, you know, I don’t have any interest in that.
I murmured something like sure, of course, but in fact it was unclear to me what he was talking about now. It sounded like he was worried that I’d developed feelings for him and he was trying to say that he wasn’t interested in anything other than sex. Anyway I agreed with him whatever he meant.
In bed he went on top and we didn’t make eye contact very much. Impulsively I lifted one of his hands and pressed it against my throat. He held it still for a few seconds and then said: what do you want me to do? I shrugged. I want you to kill me, I thought. He stroked the hard muscle of my throat with his fingers and then lifted his hand away.
After it was over, he asked me about the bandage on my arm. Did you hurt it? he said. I looked at it but didn’t say anything. I could hear Nick breathing, hard, like he was tired. I felt a lot of things I didn’t want to feel. I felt that I was a damaged person who deserved nothing.
Would you ever hit me? I said. I mean if I asked you to.
Nick didn’t look over at me, his eyes were closed. He said: uh, I don’t know. Why? Do you want me to? I closed my eyes too, and breathed out very slowly until there was no air in my lungs and my stomach was small and flat.
Yeah, I said. I want you to do it now.
What?
I want you to hit me.
I don’t think I want to do that, he said.
I knew that he was sitting up now, looking down at me, though I kept my eyes closed.
Some people like it, I said.
You mean during sex? I didn’t realise you were interested in that kind of thing.
I opened my eyes then. He was frowning.
Wait, are you okay? he said. Why are you crying?
I’m not crying.
Incidentally it turned out that I was crying. It was just something my eyes were doing while we were talking. He touched the side of my face where it was wet.
I’m not crying, I said.
Do you think I want to hurt you?
I could feel tears coming out of my eyes, but they didn’t feel hot like real tears. They felt cool like little streams from a lake.
I don’t know, I said. I’m just telling you that you can.
But is it something you want me to do?
You can do whatever you want with me.
Yeah, he said. I’m sorry. I don’t really know what to say to that.
I dried my face with my wrist. Never mind, I said. Forget about it. Let’s try and get some sleep. Nick didn’t say anything at first, he just lay there. I didn’t look over, but I sensed the tension of his body on the mattress, like he was preparing to sit up suddenly. Finally he said: you know we’ve talked about this, you can’t just lash out at me whenever you feel bad.
I’m not lashing out, I said.
How would you feel if I was sleeping with other women and then coming to your house to brag about it?
I froze. I had actually forgotten by then about the date with Rossa. Nick’s reaction when I’d told him had been so blank that the incident immediately felt insignificant, and I hadn’t thought of it again. I hadn’t even considered that it might have prompted Nick’s strange mood. Privately I had to admit that if he’d done the same thing to me – sought out another woman, had meaningless sex with her, and then flippantly told me about it while I prepared his dinner – I would never have wanted to see him again. But that was different.