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CHAPTER – 57B: Questions
It was a bit awkward in the room, but this time it wasn’t because of how we felt, but rather because of the furniture. Apart from the big double bed, there were only two chairs, and a small vanity table; quite spartan furnishings really. There wasn’t even a TV. Dana plopped the pillows against the headboard and sat on the bed, stretching her legs. While she got comfortable, I filled two cups and served the coffee. Pulling up one of the chairs next to the bed, I sat down.
After a lengthy silence, I decided to take the plunge. Clearing my throat, I said, “As I said in the car, I over-reacted,” I began, but she stopped me.
“It’s all right, Mitch. I understand. If you don’t mind I’d like to go first. I suspect you must be wondering why I did what I did,” she interjected.
I nodded.
“Before I get into that though I want to tell you this. I’m really sorry for what I did. I’ve never wanted to hurt you or pry into things that you want to keep to yourself. I... well... You’re pretty sensitive about some things and I should have known better.” She took a pause as if to collect herself. “When I saw the notebook, I guessed what it might be. I wanted to confirm what it was, because I had some questions in my mind. As I said, I didn’t read it. Yet, I knew it was wrong of me to do something like that. You know, after all I had gone through, you’d think I would have learned something about pain and hurt. But, I went ahead and—”
“Please, Dana. Don’t beat yourself about it, OK? I told you I over-reacted.”
“As you wish. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry for what I did. I also want you to know that it is not something I do. I mean, I don’t invade the privacy of people, and I...” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I know you’re a very private person, honey, and that makes me feel more—”
I cut her off. “Dana, I understand. Please, don’t beat yourself about it. All right?”
She nodded, but I could see she was still very unhappy with what she did.
“Look,” I said, “maybe it’s good that you’ve did it. I need to be more... umm... lenient... flexible? I haven’t made allowances for people, people that I care about. Like Kathy, for example. It’s partly because she’s nosy, and has always been after my case. So, I’ve—”
“Mitch, honey, it’s also because you’re protective of her. Protective of people you care about,” she interjected.
“Yes. There’s that, too. So, why don’t we just... you know?” I made a dismissing gesture to indicate she should not dwell on guilt. “I care about you, too,” I added.
She nodded with a small smile, and then took a sip from her coffee. She seemed to be in a contemplative mood. After a long silence, she looked up, and said, “In these last few days, too many things happened; we hardly had a chance to talk. I have a lot of questions in my mind. The more I get to observe you, the more confused I get...”
“In what way? Can you elaborate?”
“I don’t even know where to start, Mitch. There are so many facets,” she replied with a sigh, and paused. “You’re caring, loving, attentive, passionate, but also judgmental, opinionated, secretive, and at times... self-centered. You exhibit a lot of contradictory behavior. I suspect—I know—some of it is because you have trust issues, or because you’re protective, like your secretiveness, your reluctance to talk about things, but I can’t explain the rest of your behavior. You puzzle me; I can hardly read you or understand you.”
Some of the things she told me I was aware of, but some came as a surprise “How come?” I asked her. “You read me like an open book. Sometimes I wonder if you’re telepathic.”
She gave me an indulgent smile. “Not always, Mitch. Maybe that’s the impression you’ve got, but it’s not true. Please, let me finish! I know you have trust issues, and keep things to yourself, but some of the things don’t make any sense to me. That first time we met, you told me quite a lot, and since then... well, you’ve not been very talkative. And when you start talking, suddenly you clam up...”
“Well, I... God! It seems so far back in time...” I trailed off because I didn’t know how to respond. Oh, I knew what she was asking, and the answers too, but I didn’t know how to answer her. “Things have changed. I mean... you know what I mean. We were two strangers then, and I didn’t know we would get involved,” I said hoping she would accept that simple explanation.
“I know what you mean, but...” She let out a sigh. She was quiet for a little while, but I didn’t think she expected me to respond; rather she looked like she was mulling it over. “Yes, I understand where you’re coming from. Let’s leave it for the time being.”
I nodded.
She took a sip from her cup, apparently trying to formulate her words. “I don’t know how to explain this, but I get confused, Mitch. Sometimes you’re so attentive, it’s unbelievable. You pay attention to very innocuous details, surprising me pleasantly... which tells me that you care about me... a lot! But then you do or say something that indicates something entirely different, complete opposite of what I thought you were. Remember the time when we were going to the restaurant, when you directed the taxi to a side street? I asked why, and you told me you didn’t want Sarah and me to walk on the cobblestones with high-heel shoes. It’s such a small detail, no men would think of. That’s just one example.” She flashed a fond smile at that point before resuming talking.
“Then you talk down to me as if... I don’t know. You talk passionately about things, but now and then I get a glimpse of a person that is judgmental, opinionated, and the way you express yourself is very strong; I get the feeling you wouldn’t even argue the point if someone dared to express an opposite view. Like the little sermon about people at the pier this morning, when we left the ferry...”
My mouth fell at the last part. I knew I was opinionated or judgmental about some things, but especially about some people, so I tried to keep that part of me well under control, because... well, because I didn’t like that part of my character. To tell the truth, I was aware I was overly critical of people, society, or things... and most of the time I felt I came across as arrogant, or patronizing when I expressed my opinions, or criticized something. So, I tried to keep my mouth shut.
While I was mulling over what she told me, she moved on. “A few nights ago, when Sarah, you, and I were having dinner in the restaurant, you were all for empowering the women, criticizing the society and its values. Today, I witnessed how strongly you felt about it,” she said pointedly, referring to the incident we had in the first motel. “Don’t misunderstand me; I agree with you, and I’m glad that you feel so strongly about it. But, at the same time, you behave in an overbearing manner, as if women would need a man’s help. I just can’t reconcile the two behaviors.”
“Well, I... it’s...” I stopped to try to formulate my reply, but I was agitated. “I... I know I’m opinionated... and judgmental... about some things,” I said. “That’s also why I’d rather listen than talk, why I’m not talkative. I don’t want to come across as a complete... err... ass or a jerk. I also know I react to some things rather strongly, especially when they are directed at people I care about.” What happened in the hotel wasn’t the first time I’ve reacted to what I perceived as an insult or an attack against myself or people I cared for. I remembered how I dealt with Lizzie when she approached me inappropriately and how she later tried to attack Sarah and me. “You’re right, you know. I don’t care much for hypocrisy, double standards, or people who are self-righteous. And sometimes, I know I may be overly critical of people, or even wrong about some people. So, I try to ignore them most of the time... and keep my mouth shut. But,” I sighed, “I’m not always successful. I try hard to not come across as an arrogant, judgmental person.”
“I understand, Mitch, but everybody is entitled an opinion. I’d rather have you express your opinions than be a silent, mute person, or a yes man, although I doubt you’d ever be a yes man!” she interjected. “I’m just trying to understand why you’re like that and the apparent contradictions. Look, I hear what you’re saying. Every one of us has quirks, personality issues; that’s what makes us what we are. I’m guessing, you’re not happy with that part of your personality, and you’ve been trying to hide it. On the other hand, you’ve been talkative enough that I caught glimpses of some things. I’m just glad that you weren’t so guarded around me, OK? It tells me that you’re letting your guard down, being yourself. Please do not revert back to your earlier self, guarded, non-communicative... As we come across issues we’ll work on them, help each other. That’s how we change and grow up, personally and in a relationship as well. Remember, roses and thorns.”
I barely managed a nod.
“Please, honey. Don’t take what I’m saying as a criticism. It may sound as if you have many faults, but that’s not the case. We all have things we try to hide from people, our weaknesses, things we’re not happy with, or things we believe are faults; in short, our imperfections. I told you before, nobody’s perfect. We just try to do the best we can; try to control or change for better, learn how to deal with them. You have to keep in mind that we haven’t had a chance to really talk, to communicate. True, too many things have happened in the last few days which kind of felt like we’ve known each other for a long time, and yes, we grew closer, but it’s also an illusion forced on us because we didn’t really have much time or opportunity to get to know each other. Am I wrong in assuming that this vacation is an opportunity to get to know each other better?”
“No, you’re right about that, Dana. I was hoping we would get to know each other better... and talk.”
She chuckled when I hesitated before I said “talk,” but returned an encouraging smile. “Good. Then that’s what we’ll do: talk, communicate, share, and get to know each other. To tell the truth, I’ve been reluctant to talk as well. Does that surprise you?”
“Yeah, it does. How come? You seem to be the one who’s always looking for a chance to get us to talk.”
“Because I also have secrets, issues, weaknesses that I try to hide, or things I’m reluctant to talk about. I know something about hurt and pain. I try to protect myself, but when you get involved with a person, get into a relationship, and you care about that person, then you’ll want to protect them too.” Flashing me a contrite smile, she quipped, “You know more about that than I do.”
I chuckled and appreciated her humorous attempt. It did a lot to help keep the talk going in a much more friendly, intimate, and relaxed atmosphere.
“I dunno. I could easily nominate Kathy for that title, or Mom,” I retorted.
She laughed at my quip, shaking her head. Collecting herself, she said, “Let’s get back to what we were talking about.”
She took a sip from her coffee. “This is something I didn’t want to talk about, because it involves Sarah, but...” She stopped as if reconsidering something. “Let me start anew. When you went to visit Ulysses after his call early in the morning, Sarah and I went shopping. We had a very good time, and eventually got to talk a lot. As you can imagine, one of the subjects was you.”
She flashed a wry grin, but I shrugged my shoulders, knowing women shared things, sometimes more intimate details; there was nothing I could do about it.
“Do you remember the conversation we had that morning, about your reluctance to accept help from Ulysses?” she asked. When I nodded, she said, “Well, I had lots of questions on my mind, then. I wanted to know more about you. Sarah has known you for a long time, and I was hoping that she might help me figure out some things. The short version of it is we talked about you. I can’t say I figured things out, but I managed to sort some of it. Before I get into that, though... Sarah knows I might talk about this... about some things. We discussed it before. It’s not that she didn’t want to talk about it herself, because part of it concerns her, but I got the feeling she had her reasons. Other things, she would talk it over with you, whenever she feels ready. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Partly,” I said. “What am I supposed to do? Act ignorant? It’s... I’m just concerned that I might end up hurting her feelings by mistake, OK? I don’t want to sound like an idiot. I can handle myself.” I shot her a resigned look, and continued. “But I also know how I treated Kathy and then you lately. So, I’m concerned. I mean, what’s the deal here? Is it something that might cause any problems? If it is, I’d rather not talk about it now, when Sarah’s not present.”
“Hmmm... You have a point there,” she replied lost in thought. “Leave that to me. I’ll sort it out with her. It’s not a very serious matter, Mitch; just an example, but you might need to talk to her, eventually.”
I nodded.
“She mentioned that you’ve changed a lot over the years. Our talk moved to your trip, and how much she enjoyed it, but there seemed to be something that was bothering her. I tried to draw her out, and eventually she told me she was puzzled by your behavior. She felt that you allowed her to drive your car from a sense of duty. She felt you had been a bit patronizing.” She paused dramatically and waited for my response.
I was still reeling from the judgmental and opinionated comments she had made a little while ago, and now, the revelation about Sarah came as a complete shock. I took my time thinking about it. I realized Sarah was correct to some degree. I wanted her to work her need-for-speed out of her system. I also knew she would enjoy driving my car, and I had no problems with it. It wasn’t out of a sense of duty, but I cared for her well-being and safety.
Now wait a second! If you weren’t worried about her recklessness, would you have offered to let her drive your car?
I... I think I would have. I care about—
Bull! You never allowed Kathy to drive your car!
She never asked.
Yeah? Take a guess why she didn’t!
What do you—
Come on, pal! This is you we’re talking about. And Kathy. She knows you!
B-but...
My thoughts went to the past few days. I realized we either used Dana’s car, which she drove or let me drive, and when we used my car I drove. Dana didn’t offer to drive, even during the long trip this morning.
Why didn’t she? Was it because of what Sarah and she talked about?
As I followed each thought, I could see a pattern emerging. Sarah’s comments about male chauvinist pigs—which I readily admitted to being one...
Wait a minute! I made the joke about being a male chauvinist pig, first, not her!
So? Just because you made a joke don’t mean nothin’! Your actions speak volumes. And the joke came out later! Perhaps, you were just trying to excuse yourself before she labeled you as a male chauvinist pig...
B-b-but...
B-b-b... But what?
I could hear the mockery in the retort. As I reviewed what happened in the car, I realized my inner voice was right. In my subconscious I must have known what I was doing and how it would be received. What better way to use self-deprecating humor as a means of defense, right?
I thought about why I behaved and talked the way I did. I realized I was a male chauvinist pig when it came to driving. I just didn’t trust a woman driver. Even Kathy was no exception in that respect. And all that, despite the statistics showing that women were more careful drivers than men.
You mean more sedate drivers, don’t you?
That’s not even funny! But, yeah... that’s what I meant.
You’re an MCP.
So! What if I am? I’m just old fashioned about some things.
Yada yada yada! We’re moving away from the subject.
Maybe Dana had a point after all. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure anymore if I would have allowed Sarah to drive my car. It was also very obvious that I was quite possessive of my car. I had never figured myself as one who would be so possessive or materialistic, but now it looked like... On the other hand, I knew I had really wanted Sarah to enjoy the experience. Part of me had wanted to share in her joy, knowing that she would get a kick out of driving a sporty car. Now, learning how Sarah felt, I felt like I had let her down; I felt disappointed with myself. I had wanted to make her happy at the time.
“I’m sorry that she felt that way,” I said. “It wasn’t my intention. Yes, I’m judgmental and opinionated. And I can’t deny I’m prejudiced about women drivers. To a large extent, it was my intention to get her over her need-for-speed, but I knew she would enjoy it.” Remembering about her reaction while she was driving, I felt a smile form on my lips at seeing her so excited. “She was like a kid in a toy store, and I really loved to see her like that,” I said. Then my face fell. “I guess I’m also possessive, and perhaps she felt that. After all, I haven’t allowed anyone to drive my car. It’s the way I am about some things. I’m not offering it as an excuse. It’s just the way I am. That’s why I usually try to avoid getting into an argument and keep my opinions to myself. But I suspect I haven’t been tight-lipped in recent times, and it showed. I... I so very much wanted her to enjoy it... that’s... that’s what I don’t like about myself.”
When my eyes found hers, she nodded.
“I think I understand, now,” I said. “Looking from outside, from a different point of view, I can see how confusing it must be, because I’m confused inside as much,” I added, my mind going over my feelings and thoughts that seemed to contradict each other. “I mean, on one side I wanted her to drive my car and enjoy it, so I could share in her joy, but on the other hand, it seems I didn’t really want her to...” I trailed off.
“Because?” she prompted.
I was feeling embarrassed, and was reluctant to answer her, but when she arched an eyebrow, prompting me, I answered, “Because she is a woman. How chauvinist, opinionated is that?”
“And you hate to be one?” she asked with a soft smile trying to take the sting out of her question.
“Of course, I do. I do respect women,” I replied quickly, passionately. “And yet I—”
“Mitch, I think you’re just confused. There are probably other factors involved, influencing you... like society itself, how men behave towards women and such. It’s not only you, your upbringing, is it? I suspect, at home, women were treated with utmost respect.”
I grinned, remembering Mom. That must have been answer enough, because Dana said, “I take that as a ‘yes’! Sarah must have known that as well. I think that explains her surprise. She admitted as much, telling me you’ve changed, and wondering why. As I said, there might be other things at play there, Mitch. So don’t be so hard on yourself, OK? Sometimes you have a very sharp and narrow focus, and you miss the bigger picture. Don’t concentrate on a single item, or take it out of context. There are other things that equally prove or demonstrate that you’re attentive, caring, loving, and that you respect women.”
“How... uhh... how did Sarah take it?” I asked returning us back to the subject we were discussing.
Dana hesitated before she answered my question. “I... I have to break a confidence to answer that.” She took a pause, mulling it over. Finally, she sighed as if resigned or resolved an inner conflict. “She... she told me about your accident.”
When I didn’t respond, she asked, “You’re not concerned that she told me?”
“I think I’m getting used to not keeping secrets,” I replied with a wry grin, trying to interject a little bit of humor. “I just hope she won’t share that with Kathy or my family. If I remember correctly, I specifically mentioned them when I asked her to promise not to talk about it.”
“I see... well, that makes it a bit easier for me. She mentioned you didn’t want it known, and I got the feeling she wanted me to keep it to myself, but...”
I nodded in understanding. “So what about it?”
“Well, we talked it over at length. What I’m getting at is your possessiveness about your car or initial hesitation to let Sarah drive might be related to your own experience, to your accident. Seeing her drive recklessly you might have been reflecting it on her. There’s, of course, your concern for her well-being, too. So, she wasn’t really hurting, or missing out on the fun, but it kind of indicated to her that you’ve changed. She said that you were entirely too serious most of the time; much more serious than you used to be. She said that you used to be relaxed, or laidback even when you were being serious. She knows you more than I do. I think I agree with her based on what little I know of you, and it didn’t come as a surprise to hear her say that.” She smiled apologetically at that last one.
“Yeah. She mentioned I’ve changed. I know I did,” I replied, remembering Sarah’s words at her apartment. “And not for the better,” I added almost inaudibly, as my eyes left her face, looking at something a thousand light years away. I heard her sigh.
“That remains to be seen, Mitch.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s not you. Not the defeatist attitude,” she answered. When I flinched, she hastily added, “I didn’t mean it like that! Don’t concentrate on negative things. I know it’s not easy, but that doesn’t help.”
Yeah, I know. Sometimes I just can’t help myself but be negative.
When I didn’t respond, she said, “Cut yourself some slack.”
“When I don’t cut anybody else any slack?” I retorted, almost instinctively.
“But you do. You’re usually very circumspect about the way you conduct yourself. It’s quite unusual, really. Especially considering...” she trailed off.
I realized she was trying to draw me out, so I didn’t resist. “Considering what?”
“You’re a very dominant person, Mitch. It’s there, yet you choose not to display it most of the time, unless challenged. Even then you seem reluctant to exert your dominance. Interestingly, the dominant men are usually very aggressive, and controlling in almost everything they do. More obviously, they are very dominant and controlling in bed. Yet, you’re gentle; you choose to leave the control to women in bed. It’s very contradictory. At first, I thought it was because you might be insecure in bed, especially after what I learned about your past that first night in the hotel, but you weren’t. You aren’t. Even if you were, it wasn’t there to be seen. From the very first time, and every time thereafter, whenever we made love, I didn’t see anything I could define as being insecure. And before you raise any objections, I’m not lying or trying to boost your morale. By now you should know how I react to you in bed.”
She paused to see my reaction, but her last comments, when I thought about them, killed any notion of objection I had had. However, her words about being dominant in bed reminded me something else... something that made me very uncomfortable. Sure, I’ve been gentle with Dana, and let her take control in bed, but with Sarah, the last time in Dana’s bedroom...
But Sarah wanted it! She pushed you for it.
Maybe she did, but I don’t do those kind of things!
Maybe? What ‘maybe’! She did it. Period! Those ‘kind’ of things? You did it, and enjoyed doing it too!
Noo! No, no, no. I di—
Bullshit, Mitch. It turned you on. Don’t you remember how it made you feel? To have her under your power and control?
I remembered it, and even though I wanted to deny it, I couldn’t. But, God! Sarah drove me nuts then...
But I managed to keep it under control!
Yes, you did. But it was all playacting, Mitch, a fantasy play!
True, it had been playacting, and Sarah had initiated part of it, but I also remembered how easy it could be to lose control. The taste of power during a few moments had been just too tempting; I remembered them clearly, and I didn’t like that. I never thought of myself as that kind of person, especially when it came to sex! The whole scene with Sarah seemed so out of character for me. I just didn’t know what made me act like that. Did I have such dark fantasies? I didn’t have an answer to that question.
Dana broke into my thoughts. “So, I know that you either didn’t have any insecurity, or you got over them in a hurry. Yes, you do take control sometimes, but you don’t insist on taking control most of the time, and instead let your partner decide or control the activities. That’s not how dominant men are, especially controlling men.”
Although Dana’s words helped redirect part of my thoughts, I was still trying to find some answers to what I did with Sarah. I didn’t think of myself as dominant; I didn’t think of dominance in those terms, too, especially about sex.
Unable to find any real answers, I turned to Dana and asked, “Am I really like that?”
Perhaps, the reason I asked her that question was because I wanted a reconfirmation or a revalidation that I wasn’t dominant in bed with my women. I certainly have been a gentle lover with Dana, and our love play, even when it got heated, had never been anything like what I had done with Sarah that one time.
“Yes, Mitch. You are.”
“I don’t know. I mean I don’t really have any answers to what you’re saying. I don’t think I’m dominant or have a dominant personality,” I said while mulling over what I wanted to say.
Or you hope you’re not like that!
Dammit! I am NOT like THAT!
Instead of dwelling on the questions that I couldn’t seem to find an answer to, I concentrated on my beliefs about sex: about how the intimacy between a man and woman should be like. Some of it was things Mother talked about when we had the ‘Talk,’—actually we had more than once the ‘Talk’—but the rest was things I’ve learned on my own during my experiences with women however limited they had been. And to some extent, I’ve had those beliefs validated. More than that, however, I knew from personal experience how I felt about the women I’ve been with, and what I felt when we got intimate. It wasn’t simply a question of what worked and what did not! There has always been some chemistry, or an interest, and certainly some emotional involvement on my side. “The bedroom... well, I believe sex is a gift to be shared. And I enjoy seeing my partner take her pleasure, or rather, I enjoy pleasuring my partner.” I said, and then I remembered something she told me before. “But you know that, don’t you? You said something to that effect when we first met, if I remember correctly? So, from my point of view, I don’t see any contradictions. Then again, I’ve been proven to be wrong on some things, so...”
As I talked, my words helped me clarify my thoughts. Unfortunately, they didn’t offer any answers to why I did what I did with Sarah. I decided this was the wrong time to ruminate over that question when I was in the middle of an important talk with Dana, and filed it away for later.
“It’s not a complaint, Mitch. Don’t misunderstand me. I especially like how caring and attentive you are in bed. It makes me feel wanted, desired; it lets me know I’m the only thing that is important, but... but it becomes a hindrance when I want to show you you’re the only thing that is important for me at that moment... when I want to show how I feel about you, or give you pleasure. You’re self-centered in bed! Self-centered in the sense that you give but don’t take... I’m not sure how I can explain it more delicately.” She paused trying to rephrase what she wanted to say.
Am I really self-centered in bed?
I didn’t think I was, and I had to stop myself from responding, forcing myself to wait patiently and listen to her.
Eventually she said, “When you’re offered pleasure, you are reluctant to accept it, but you offer it all the time. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
“Yes, I think I do. I’m not sure why I’m like that, though. I mean... well... you know that for a man there’s no such thing as bad sex. A man not taking pleasure when he is offered sex sounds like an oxymoron to me. You know what I mean? But for a woman it’s different. That’s what I’ve come to learn. So pleasuring her is... well, I want to see her enjoy it. Because a man can have an orgasm, any time, easily. Not so for women. As I said, I see sex as a gift. But from what you tell me, it seems I may have a hang up. My focus is too single-minded. Is that what you’re saying?”
She nodded. “Yes. Single-minded. That’s a good word! I don’t mean that when we’re making love you’re not there. You want to give, but I would like to see you accept pleasure when I want to give,” she said. Flashing me a teasing grin, she quipped, “and not fight with you to give you pleasure.”
Relief washed over me. I had to smile at the way she put it—my smile turned into a grin—but I understood where she was coming from.
Dana continued from where she left off. “You know, you’re right about the differences between men and women. I do understand what you meant, so this isn’t a complaint. Not really. It all comes back to scorecards, sweetheart. Like relationships and everything else, sex has its ups and downs. I do love your attentiveness, and wanting to pleasure me, but I don’t want to have scorecards between us, how many orgasms we each had and so on. It’s... how shall I put it? I think you’re too considerate about your women and their wants.”
Ahhh! That explains it. Perhaps, you have a point, but I’m not keeping a score. God! I know how you make me feel, how you give yourself to me, and sometimes it gets pretty intense, almost scary!
“Well, I wasn’t keeping a score, Dana. I just know what I enjoy. This is getting really deep, but let me say this. I love seeing a woman in orgasm. I think it’s the most beautiful thing to watch, and to know that I caused it... well, it’s...” I shrugged and left it there.
“I understand that, Mitch. I knew that. That’s why I enjoy sex with you so much. But it’s also a bit self-centered, don’t you think?” she replied. Then with a chuckle, she added, “I don’t believe I’m complaining about getting what most women would die to have.”
We had a good laugh about that, especially when I quipped, “Well, make up your mind! Do you want it or not?”
When the laughter gave way to chuckles and grins, I added, “On a serious note, I have to say that’s why I enjoy making love with you, too. Besides, we are relatively new partners; I’m kind of careful, and don’t want to make mistakes, as you’ve noted. You say that I don’t take when you give, but you give me so much, especially the way you give yourself to me. It’s kinda overwhelming at times. I still remember our first time, but each time with you has been... fantastic... magical...”
She returned a fond smile. “Thank you, sweetheart. They’ve been magical for me, too.” She paused trying to collect her thoughts. “You’re right about the newness. We’re still discovering each other in bed, and I think we’ll find out more about ourselves and each other. We have very good communication in that area. Let’s return to other communication.”
I nodded, feeling much calmer and more relaxed than before.
“Let me get back to dominance,” she began. “As you said, it might be a matter of perception, but I see you as a dominant person. At least your presence is felt, and on some occasions you made your presence felt, whether you realized it or not. I observed how you behaved when we were together, shopping, dining, doing things, and how you treated the people. You command attention when you want or require it.” She waited expectantly for my response.
After thinking about what she said, and remembering certain instances she was referring to, I had to concede the point. “Uhh... OK! I remember a few situations, and I know what I did.” With a resigned look I added, “I’ll take your word for it.”
She laughed softly, but even that small laughter lit up the room. “Don’t take my word for it, Mitch. Ask around, or observe how people react to you, and you’ll see it.”
I nodded, but my mind was busy with something else, something that Kathy had told me many times. ‘Control freak!’ I was pondering why Dana hadn’t made any comments about it.
“Mitch, honey?”
When I didn’t respond, she prompted me again. “Honey, what’s on your mind?”
“Huh? Nothing. Just thinking...” I trailed off, still busy trying to figure that aspect of my character. I knew I tried to be in control of a situation, but I wasn’t sure if I was also a controlling person when it came to people. Despite the fact that she told me I was a dominant person, but not controlling or aggressive, I was filled with unease. I was confused about what I knew to be true about myself and what she told me.
“Darling, please. Tell me what you’re thinking,” she insisted with a pleading tone.
“I...” I let out a frustrated sigh, and tried to collect myself. “I want to know something...”
She tilted her head to the side, and waited expectantly for me to continue.
Without wanting to think further, I blurted out the question that was bothering me. “Do you really think I’m not a controlling person?”
She mulled it over and then asked, “Is that what was bothering you?”
“You said I have a dominant character,” I replied.
“I’ve also said that you’re very circumspect in how you conduct yourself.” She gave me along appraising look, and asked, “What’s really bothering you honey?”
“I was thinking about how I treated people in the last few years. I’m not really proud of it, but I know sometimes, I responded to people very harshly, even people very close to me. Pardon my French, but I don’t want to be one of those controlling assholes, if you know what I mean. I’d really... I’d really like to hear how you see me, have your honest opinion, please.”
“Mitch, I know more about you than some others, OK? People you’ve met for the first time, people who don’t know you may think you’re arrogant, especially if they offend you, because I think you’ll respond accordingly,” she said in a pointed manner. I realized she was referring to what happened in the first hotel. When I nodded, she continued. “You’re not... how shall I say? I don’t think you’re manipulative, if that’s what you’re worried about. The kind of controlling dominant people you think of are usually self-serving bastards, Mitch, and I can honestly say you’re not one. Oh, I know you’ll respond if you’re challenged, or if you feel you’re being wronged, but you’re not the power hungry, self-serving kind. Have you ever tried to run someone’s life, control them?”
“No,” I replied, but then I chuckled and shook my head at the memory of how Mother had dissuaded me from trying to boss Kathy around.
“What is it?” Dana asked directing me a questioning look.
“An old memory. When I was young I tried to boss Kathy, but Mother was quick to put a stop to it,” I replied.
“She must have done a good job,” Dana commented.
“How would you know?” I retorted.
“I have eyes and ears, Mitch. I saw you together, and besides, Sarah told me how you treated Kathy.” She gave me a loving look, and said, “No, honey. You’re not a controlling asshole, as you’ve put it. You can be one, but anyone can be one. I told you before, most such men are very controlling in every aspect of their lives, because they are compensating for some insecurity, or because they hunger for power. Why are you so concerned and confused about this?”
“Because I know how I am. I like to be in control. Kathy called me a control freak more than once. I rely on my own resources. Remember what we talked on the ferry?”
“But that’s different, Mitch. I understand what you told me then. It’s a matter of how you seem to approach to issues. I’ve noticed that you can be cautious and you think about problems and consequences. You’re careful, and perhaps it’s because of where you work. It’s a dangerous place, is it not? It must have affected you.”
Consequences? Yeah! I learned about them. More than I care to, but I learned about them.
“Besides,” she said, “you’re also protective, and I’ve seen that part of you. We talked about it, and I think you’re a bit overprotective, but it’s not a serious issue, honey.”
I nodded in agreement, and what she told me helped a lot to relive most of my anxiety. “All right. That eases my mind a bit,” I said.
She chuckled, and shook her head. “A bit?” she asked pointedly.
I smiled at her and nodded. “A bit,” I repeated, and then decided to move our conversation back to the subject. “Anyway... shall we?”
She responded with an indulgent smile, and then took a sip of her coffee. For a little while, she was quiet, seemingly recollecting her thoughts. Eventually she said, “I want to explain something. With what happened in the last few days, all the stress and worries, plus what I observed, I was feeling very confused. Then you seemed undecided about stopping here when we were making travel plans, and even during the trip. You seemed to have some kind of an inner conflict. I’m not sure. I wanted to know why. When I saw your notebook, I suspected what it was. That brought on more questions and confusion. I... I didn’t know where or how I could find the answers, Mitch. I couldn’t bring myself to read your diary, but... But I have to say I was tempted, because I wanted some answers, and I thought I would—” she stopped and took a deep breath after rushing through the last part. With an apologetic look in her eyes, she said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you clam up, and I guess it has made me impatient. I wanted some answers, and it was... it seemed so easy, so within my reach...”
Oh, I could understand the temptation; after the way she explained it, it wasn’t difficult. Besides, I knew I withheld some things from her, perhaps withheld parts of me, too. Not trusting myself to reply verbally, I nodded, and motioned her to continue, but she waited, almost expectantly.
“I understand,” I said.
She lowered her eyes, still feeling guilty, and the silence stretched.
“What is it, Dana? I told you, it’s all right.”
“I... I looked at the first page... and the date...” she trailed off.
She shook her head as if to get rid of something or berate herself. Then, she looked up, almost hesitantly. For a moment, she appeared as if she was going to tell me something, but then closed her mouth. I couldn’t read her. I didn’t understand why she was acting so unsure or guilty. I told her it was all right, I was all right with what she did, didn’t I?
I stood up and knelt down by the bed, taking her hand in mine.
“It’s OK. I told you I understand. It’s in the past,” I said, and kissed her palm to comfort her. We were quiet and I kept squeezing her hand. When she collected herself, I busied myself by filling our cups, and added a bit of brandy.
“Mitch,” she paused looking hesitant, and chewed her lip. “Do you... do you still write?” she asked with an uncertain tone.
“No, I don’t, but I used to,” I replied, wondering why she needed to ask it. Then I remembered what she said a moment ago, about seeing the date, and it dawned on me what she was asking. “You’re wondering why the diary is with me?”
She nodded.
“O-K... I think I should start by explaining what it is. I started writing in the last year of college. I was sort of... after my break-up with Reina, I wasn’t in a good shape for a while... I... ahh... I told you some of it...” I trailed off, feeling uncomfortable about getting into it again. I shot her a questioning look, but she nodded. “Anyway... I began to write and kept at it for some time, but after a while I realized it didn’t help in any way, and I didn’t want to dwell on things, so I put it aside.”
I took a sip from my cup before I resumed telling her about the diary. “I had forgotten about it until recently. I kind of stumbled upon it. After seeing Rei on the plane and then our talk in the hotel, I had lots of questions. I thought about the past... a few days later, I remembered about my diary. It was sitting in a box packed with my schoolbooks and lecture notes. I didn’t want it to be found, especially by Kathy. So I took it, planning to destroy it, but... things happened. Memories awakened and I was searching for answers. I thought maybe I could find some answers in my notes, something that might make some sense... I... I wanted to find out about myself.” I stopped, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath to calm down, but I wasn’t able to.
“Mitch? Honey?” Dana softly prompted. “Are you all right?”
I shook my head and tried to collect myself. “It’s... it was a mistake!” I blurted. I thought if I keep my eyes closed, I wouldn’t see the demons lurking in the dark, or Dana’s reaction for that matter.
After a lengthy silence, Dana broke it with a simple question. “Why?” When I didn’t answer, she asked, “Why was it a mistake, Mitch?”
I opened my eyes and stared at my cup as I considered my reply. “It’s... it’s a record of what I was like then. What I felt, how I felt like, what I thought,” I answered in a rush. “It’s all in there... and some accounts of what happened that summer. I thought... I thought I could figure out how I changed. Maybe I could figure out some answers...” I said as if it explained it all. It did! But when I looked up at her, I could see that she didn’t get it.
I took a sip from my cup, but I knew I was just delaying the inevitable. Still, sometimes every second counts, and I wanted these seconds to count.
“Mitch?” Dana prompted with a concerned tone, and that made me feel guilty.
“You don’t understand, Dana. I... I’ve worked hard to put it behind me, to forget it all.”
“You don’t want to remember again?” she asked with a sympathetic look in her eyes.
“No, I don’t want to. I should have burned the bloody thing! But things don’t work that way, not with me! I have an elephant’s memory! And that thing... that blasted thing! God! What a stupid idea it was!” I spat out the word. By then I was very agitated and my voice rose up considerably. I shook my head in disgust.
“Please, honey. Please, calm down,” she pleaded. Then she added, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me. I’m upset with myself,” I retorted.
I stood up and went to fill my cup, even though it was half-full, while trying to calm down. I realized I was close to making another scene and that thought helped me redirect my attention to the matter at hand. I didn’t want a repeat of what I had done with Kathy; a spat with Dana was something I didn’t need right now, especially on something that had nothing to do with her. I took my time stirring the sugar in my cup, and mulled over what I wanted to say to her, because I didn’t want to hurt her or cause a misunderstanding.
When I took my seat back, I found her watching me, as if appraising how much I calmed down.
“Look, this isn’t easy,” I began. “You don’t talk about your ex with your current partner. It just isn’t done. And that,” I pointed at my suitcase, meaning my diary, “isn’t going to help me. I know that—”
“When did we agree not to talk about our ex-partners, honey?” she interjected with a sweet tone.
It threw me off completely. “Huh?” was all I could manage.
“When did we agree not to talk about our ex-partners? You told me about Rei, and I told you about my ex-boyfriend, but I don’t—”
“You can’t be serious!” I exclaimed.
“I am serious. I’m very serious, honey. If you don’t want to talk about Reina, then don’t, but I’m willing to listen.”
“Oh, Jesus Ch—” I barely managed to stop myself from swearing out loud. “Just give me a second will you?” I said while I made a desperate attempt to recollect my thoughts.
After a few minutes, I thought I was ready. “Just let me say this, OK. You threw me off with what you said, and I’m not sure how to take it, but it will have to wait. I have something else to tell you.”
I waited for her response, and when she nodded, I began anew. “This isn’t about Rei. Not this trip. Yes, I know, I had my misgivings about bringing you here, but it wasn’t because of... because of Rei. I told you in the car why I wanted to come here. But beyond that, I wanted to share this place with you, because it’s been a part of me for a long time. On the other hand, I have to be honest and open about my feelings, because I don’t want to lead you; I mean, I don’t want to mislead you! I worried about Rei casting a shadow, and I’m still worried about it, because I’m mixed up. When I tell you I’m mixed up I do mean mixed up and nothing else. Perhaps this was a mistake, like my diary. Perhaps, I shouldn’t have rushed in here looking for answers. But I wanted to resolve my confusion, my feelings, so I—”
“Why, Mitch? Why the hurry?” Dana interjected.
“Because I want to get my life in order. I don’t want to keep us in limbo. I hate uncertainty, ambiguity. I always have. Yes, I know life’s full of ambiguity, uncertainty. I should know, ’cause I deal with uncertainty every single day at work. It involves making decisions based on incomplete, uncertain, and sometimes plain wrong data. Somehow, I’ve always managed to come out on top of things. At my work I mean, but in my personal life I—”
“What does that involve, Mitch? Do those decisions involve people, their lives, your life, or just material things?” she interjected quickly. “Do feelings come into play?” she added for good measure.
You know she has a good point. She’s sharp.
Suddenly my nicely constructed train of thought was off the rail, spread all over the countryside, making a big mess! Of course, such decisions hardly involved emotions, feelings, or people’s lives—well, except in the sense of work-safety and dangers involved in some of the operations, but those were known quantities at best, and were factored in at worst. What we were talking about was something else. Love, happiness, hurt, guilt... intangible things, but things that made a lot of difference to people, in who they were or what they became.
“Point well taken, Dana. You’re right. I’m comparing apples with oranges.”
“Yes, that’s what you’re doing to some degree, but keep in mind that those same skills you use in making decisions at work come into play and help you out in other areas as well. You’re intuitive and pay attention. I’ve seen that side of you. And let’s not forget that you were hiding behind walls. You had to... to survive something you weren’t able to deal with at the time. I believe you’re ready to break out of those shells. It’s just a matter of time.”
Just a matter of time! God, how many times I told myself that, and yet I—
As if she heard my inner voice, my exact words, she continued with, “Mitch, sweetheart, I know it’s going to take time. You should know that and accept it. You can’t take shortcuts. It doesn’t work that way.”
“How do you know such things?” I asked, taken completely unprepared by her comments. It wasn’t that they didn’t make sense; on the contrary, they made a lot of sense, but it was the certainty in her delivery that surprised me.
“I’ve spent quite a long time in therapy. I had to work hard to heal myself. You pick up things when you go through something like what I had experienced. That doesn’t make me an authority, you know, but I make use of what I’ve learned.”
“I see... What you told me makes sense, but...”
“But you’re feeling guilty, because you can’t commit to me or anyone else?”
I managed a short nod, not trusting my voice.
“Mitch, listen to me carefully. Do you really think that I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t realize that you need time? After what I told you about what I learned during my own therapy, just now? Come on, be sensible!”
“But you have feelings, Dana. I have feelings for you. Now, the situation is more complicated, because there’s Sarah, too. I know I need to get my life in order, so I can end this limbo. But while I’m doing that, what about the rest of the people? I just can’t—”
“Mitch, we talked about this before. We’ve not committed to each other. Yet! We are lovers, true, and we agreed to be exclusive to the three of us. I’m your friend. I knew what I was getting myself into. Yes, I do love you, and I can’t deny it hurts a bit sometimes. And sometimes, I feel lost, or confused. Today was one of those days,” She gave me a significant look with her last comment.
It took me a few seconds to figure out her meaning. “You felt insecure? That’s why you...”
She nodded. “It happens sometimes,” she added with a nonchalant tone, but I wondered if she was over it.
Then, it dawned on me what it was that made her feel insecure. Our talk in the car about our travel plans, her questions about whether I wanted to change our destination, and finally, while driving or walking around the town, my trips in memory lane; it all added up. “I was distant, wasn’t I? You saw me lost in thought or a memory, and...”
After a brief hesitation she nodded again. “I should have expected that with what I know of you, of how much you like this place...”
Was it really the place she meant, or Rei, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps, she was being polite, but it didn’t change how I felt about what I had done. “Hey, you shouldn’t have to deal with something like that. I’m sorry. I—”
“Mitch, after what you told me about having an elephant’s memory... I also remember you mentioned it before, but I had forgotten.”
“But that doesn’t—”
“Honey, please. You can’t control something like that, can you?”
“No... I... not exactly. It’s difficult to explain. I can usually keep them at bay, or push them away. Idle hands, idle thoughts... or something like that, so keeping busy helps. But sometimes, it’s like an unwanted déjà vu that is suddenly triggered by something,” I replied with a resigned tone. “You know when we decided to come here there was one thing I really wanted to do. I wanted to make some good memories with you—” I stopped abruptly, because suddenly it sounded wrong. It sounded like I was using her to replace Rei, but that wasn’t my intent.
“That’s very sweet of you, honey. So, what’s the problem?”
“Nothing. No problem.”
She arched an eyebrow to prompt me.
“There isn’t a problem. It’s just that, things didn’t work out quite as I thought they would. I mean like what we had to deal with in the first hotel... and I really didn’t plan on making you feel uncomfortable or unappreciated...” I fibbed.
“Things happen, Mitch. Sometimes things happen.”
I nodded. For several minutes we sat without speaking a word, lost in thought.
Dana broke the silence with, “We got side tracked, didn’t we? What were we talking about?”
“Why are you asking—” I stopped and we both started to laugh at my stupid reply. It didn’t help much, when I pantomimed cranking a handle next to my head and said, “Umm... we were... ummm...”
When we managed to collect ourselves, Dana asked, “So where were we?”
“I was telling you about living in a limbo,” I replied, making an oblique reference to commitment in a relationship.
She looked like she was trying to recall, and a bit later she looked up. “Yes, I remember. And I told you we weren’t committed and that it sometimes hurt...” she trailed off. She nodded to herself as if mentally checking off something from a list. “As I said, we’re not committed to each other, but we’re in a special relationship. I know that sometimes it’s going to be difficult. But what I want you to understand, Mitch, my darling, I also remember the times when I hurt. True, you may not get hurt at all if you’re alone, and in a relationship you may get hurt very badly. But, if I have to chose between a chance at love at the risk of getting hurt, or being alone but safe, I’ll bet on love. Every single time! Alone isn’t much of a living, Mitch.”
“Oh, I know that. Despite the way I live, I know that. But I don’t want to get into something where I may get hurt or end up hurting someone, and what we have has all the makings for—”
“Yes, we all are aware of it. Even Sarah. So, do you want out?”
Of course, I don’t want out! But dammit, Dana! This is—
She really pulled a fast one on me with that little stunt. I was tempted to give her a peace of my mind, when I realized what my response had been. I didn’t want out! It came out without any hesitation and without any deliberation. A gut response. As I pondered its significance, I saw her watching me, and slowly her lips curled and her questioning look changed into that special twinkle she had when she was laughing at me.
“That’s such an unfair question!’ I retorted trying to bluster my way out of it.
“I know,” she said, grinning at me. “And it breaks your heart, doesn’t it?”
“That’s not funny.”
With a serious but soft look in her eyes, she said, “Do you know what’s funny, Mitch? It’s what I saw on your face. You gave me my answer and it didn’t take you a second.” Before I could respond, she held up a hand. “I needed to see that, sweetheart. No, it wasn’t a trick question to trip you or a test. I don’t know what made me ask it, but I’m not going to apologize for it.” She shrugged.
“If you need to hear it, too, I don’t want out,” I said trying to keep my tone even.
“Don’t be angry with me. I know it wasn’t a fair question. What’s more I know it was doubly unfair because I don’t ask or expect a commitment from you. I know I’m not ready to commit to you.”
She waited for a response, but I motioned her to continue to see where she was going with it.
“Mitch, please understand this. You need closure,” she said. “And sometimes closure isn’t possible. Life doesn’t work like that,” she concluded with a resigned tone.
“But—”
She raised her hand to interrupt me. “You may not agree with me, honey, but that’s what I think. You’re too close to some things to see them clearly.”
“That may be so, but where does this leave us?”
“We take our time, Mitch, and see where we go.”
“Take our time?”
“Here’s something else for you to think about. As you said, Sarah is in this too, and although unexpected, I’m not jealous of her. In fact, I love her, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m not sure of Sarah’s feelings or thoughts in the matter. I mean, in regards to you, or me. Then, there’s Reina. I don’t mean to put pressure on you or put you on the spot, OK? But it’s something you have to work out. My commitment to you is to help you, because I want to be your friend, first.”
“What about us? Our feelings? Your feelings?” I asked.
“We’re still learning, honey; I’m still discovering things about me. We talked about this before, about love and friendship. I think maybe love is wanting and putting the happiness of the person you love foremost, and to set them free.”
“That sounded like it came from Love Story or something?” I retorted.
“So? Does it make it just a stupid cliché? Love is fleeting, Mitch. It changes over time: sometimes it flares to new heights, sometimes it fizzles down to a little flicker, or dies out completely, but friendship, companionship, caring, they last longer. We also have a very unconventional situation.” She gave me an earnest look, and said, “Honey, sometimes we take love, affection, and happiness whenever and wherever we find it, in whatever form we find it. Is that wrong? Why, if the people involved are in agreement? You make me happy, and I’m happy to make you happy, or Sarah, for that matter.”
“But...”
“But what? What are you concerned about?” she asked. “Don’t answer that! I know what you’re concerned about. You think I would be better off with someone else. Someone who would be there for me, commit to me. If this doesn’t work between us, I might get hurt, and then I have to start over again. That’s what you’re thinking, aren’t you? And that makes you feel guilty?”
“Something like that,” I managed to reply. “I’m protective of people I care about.”
“Mitch, sweetheart, protective is good, caring is good, but how do you know what’s best for me? I think you’re old-fashioned and take gallantry a bit too far. The times are changing, you know,” she admonished me gently. “I’m a 32-year-old, working, independent woman. I can take care of myself. I’m not a helpless woman, and neither is Sarah. Don’t ever go there with her, or you’ll really hurt her. She may be younger than me, but she’s much more independent, and free-spirited.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I replied feeling flustered.
“You told me I give you a lot when I give myself to you. You were implying I didn’t know what I was giving to you or how I make you feel. Maybe you were right. But using your example, I can say the same thing about you. You make me happy, even though you may not realize it. I treasure it, and everything else pales in comparison, be it hurt, pain, or even heartbreak if it would end tomorrow. Each day is a gift; any extras are just icing on the cake. That’s the way I look at it. Do I make myself clear enough?” she asked, flashing me a challenging look of determination, making me fluster more.
Trying to gain a semblance of control, I retorted, “Now, who’s being dominant?”
“I learned it from you. You’re passionate about certain things, and come on too strongly. So do I!” Her expression softened, and with an imploring tone, she added, “Mitch, honey, I really need you to understand this. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, OK? I don’t mind that you’re protective, caring. I just want you to tone it down a bit. You were, after all, all for women’s rights, empowering the women, the way you were talking so passionately during the dinner a few nights ago. You complained how patriarchal the society is! Did I get it wrong?”
“No, you didn’t. It’s... I-I... I don’t know. This is confusing...”
“What do you feel, Mitch?” she asked, suddenly changing tracks.
“Apart from confused? I dunno... pulled in different directions, lost... a bit helpless. That last one scares me. I don’t want to be a victim or feel like one. There’s happiness. Oh, yes, there’s happiness, but I’m concerned that I might cling to that happiness at the behest of you or Sarah, and then hurt you both. Strangely enough I’m not so concerned about getting hurt. It’s contradictory, I know. I guess knowing that I survived once, I kinda feel I’ll survive again.” I looked up to see how she was taking this.
“You want to be in charge? In control of your destiny? Be self-reliant?” she prompted.
“I am self-reliant. Independence is important for me, always has been. In charge? Hah! Nobody’s in charge. To a large extent, many things are out of our control, but we have some say in the matter, some control. I try to be ready for any eventuality. Life throws many curve—” I stopped.
Life threw you one curve ball and what did you do?
That’s different.
It was a flimsy excuse; it stared me in the face, almost laughing at me. Yeah, I knew what I had done. I was just existing, nothing more and nothing less! Yes, I was in control, I had control of myself, but how I used it was obvious.
I looked at her, while thinking of my reply. “Life throws many curve balls, and I haven’t been able to deal with that.”
“Do you feel guilty, or something? If so, why, Mitch?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know. Just trying to make some sense of your contradictions. You’re a proud man, resourceful, and in many respects, successful, but I also see an indecisiveness in you that doesn’t suit you, because based on what I’ve seen of you, you’re not the type that would give up, or let something go, or wait without taking any action. One way or another you’ll work on something until you conquer it. Am I wrong?”
“If you’re talking about being stubborn, or having resolve, or tenacity, you’re right. I will see things through,” I replied.
Sometimes to the bitter end!
Well, yeah! Some things come with a price tag attached, buddy! So, keep your wallet handy!
God dammit! Why do you have to be such a wise ass all the time?
“Do you feel as if you failed in some ways?” she asked.
“I dunno... maybe... it’s... I...”
Suddenly I felt overwhelmed, and couldn’t think straight. Leaning forward, I cupped my face in my hands, and massaged my temples to try to collect myself. I felt her hands get a hold of my hands, and gently but decisively pry them apart. Then clutching my neck, she held my head to her belly, and ran her hands on my back.
“Sorry, my darling. I got too enthusiastic. We seemed to be making a lot of progress, but I forgot one basic lesson. You can’t attack all the problems or the questions in one go. You have to take them on one at a time, little by little,” she said, as she started to massage my shoulders. As she kneaded my shoulders I realized my muscles were tense. “My, but you’re tense.” She stopped her massage, and pulling back, leaned down to kiss me. “I’m sorry, darling.”
“It’s all right. I think we were making good progress also. I mean quite a few things made sense, and I found myself seeing patterns, things I’ve missed before... but then I was suddenly overwhelmed, my mind kind of—”
“Shuuusshh... It’s OK. I know we had a good talk, but it was intense. I should have been more careful. I think I was hungry for that talk, but we can’t do it in one go, you know.”
“I’m all right, love. Just a bit overwhelmed momentarily. If you give me a minute we can conti—”
“Mitch, no! Don’t try it. I know what I’m talking about. Trust me on this one. Please?”
“I... all right! You might be right about that.”
“Good.” Leaning down, she kissed the top of my head, and then pulled my head to her belly again to continue to give me a short massage, and slowly the tenseness in my shoulders faded away.
“I didn’t realize I was so tense. I mean we had a few good laughs, and I wasn’t feeling bad at all. I don’t understand it,” I said.
“It was intense, honey. While I was probing, you were busy analyzing things, looking for answers. In hindsight, I can see it clearly, now. We covered a lot, but with each question and each probe, new questions or different ways of looking at things popped up. I’m surprised that we went on like that for so long.”
“Really? It didn’t feel that long at all.”
“Really. We touched a lot of subjects. Usually you pick a thing or two, and then follow them wherever they lead. Over several sessions, patterns start to emerge, and the underlying issues.”
“Oh, God! Now I feel like I’ve been visiting a shrink.”
“No, you weren’t. We were looking at things. I’m not a psychiatrist. What we did wasn’t psychoanalysis, or a psychiatric session, even though it might have seemed like that. We had a heart-to-heart talk, discussing things, trying to understand each other. I think you needed it, too, Mitch. From what I’ve come to know of you, you don’t talk much about things... even with your family, do you?”
I tried to shake my head despite being held to her belly, and she said, “That was rhetorical. But I hope you understand that you can’t keep things inside for too long. You’ve been doing that for too long a time than is healthy. I suspect keeping a diary was a way of getting some of it out of your system, even if you didn’t realize what you were doing at the time. And I’m glad... I’m glad that you took some steps at the time. But know this, Mitch. You have people who care about you, like your sister, or mother, or Sarah. And I’m here for you, too. I understand it might feel awkward to talk about some things, about Reina for example, but I don’t mind it, Mitch. I really don’t mind it at all.”
I pulled back to look up at her, despite the genuine honesty and concern in her voice. “How could you not?” I asked, unable to help myself.
“Because, like you, I’ve had my share of problems, so I know how it is, and from what little I know of Reina, she must have had hers. We talked and speculated about it, and I can understand and sympathize, even though I don’t know what her story is.”
“B-but... but what about jealousy, or... blame... I mean... most women would...”
“I’m at an age where I can recognize some things for what they are. What good would it do to me if I get jealous of Reina? Or Sarah, for that matter? Why should I blame Reina for anything? For what? Because she broke your heart? It happens. Life happens! My fiancé broke my heart... very badly. I loved and trusted him; he was my lover, friend, shelter, security... many things. But in the end, I realized he was none of those things.” She paused as if reconsidering something, and then continued with, “Perhaps he was a friend. At least he tried to stick around until I had recovered from my ordeal, but I guess it was just too much for him to continue; he wasn’t able to deal with what had happened. I can’t really blame him for something he doesn’t have inside him. I wish he had been straight with me when he broke up with me.”
“Maybe he was trying to protect you and not hurt you more after your ordeal,” I suggested trying to be supportive, although I had little idea what had transpired between them.
“Perhaps,” she said with a distant voice. “I don’t know for sure. I guess I still resent what he did and how he did it. It made me feel dirty, used... as if... as if getting raped was my fault.”
“You know better than that, love,” I said quickly to dispel any such thoughts.
She smiled fondly. “Yes, I know. I also know about men, and society’s attitude. There are a lot of factors involved in such a situation and how people behave. But that kind of understanding took a lot of time and work.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through something like that. I’m terrib—”
“It’s all right, honey. As I said, sometimes life happens, and more often than not, it has very little to do with fairness.”
“Yeah... It just feels... well, I feel embarrassed. I mean, I feel embarrassed about how I dealt... ummm... didn’t deal with my own issu—”
“Oh, honey, I didn’t tell you this to make a comparison! I wasn’t implying anything of that sort. It’s not a simple question of acceptance or understanding. We each have our needs, things that drive us in particular directions, psychological factors, experiences, and such. Some things, we can deal with easily, and some, we can’t. It takes time and experience... and learning.” She gave me a searching look, before she continued. “You’re quite sensitive; probably you’re comparing your experience with mine and think that your problems pale in comparison to what mine had been like. That’s wrong, Mitch. Empathy and sympathy are good, but don’t take it too far.”
She gave me a long look, and I saw a slight fluster came on her face. “Sorry, my darling. I didn’t want to give you a sermon.”
“It didn’t feel like one,” I replied quickly to put her at ease. “It felt like the voice of reason and experience,” I added for good measure.
She leaned down and we shared a long, sweet kiss. It was good that she chose that moment to kiss, because if she hadn’t I would have said something that was at the forefront of my mind.
What do I bring to this relationship, Dana?
I really didn’t know the answer, and I guess, I wasn’t keen on learning it at that moment. It was a loaded question. Perhaps, that was also the reason why I sometimes felt on tenterhooks in regards to my relationship with her. She was older than me, more experienced, and I wasn’t sure if I could live up to her expectations. I didn’t even know what her expectations were, except that we both felt very strongly about each other, that we loved and cared for the other, and brought some happiness to each other. I hoped, in time, we would come to learn about each other, and with understanding would come deeper feelings and bonding. Despite her assurances about her feelings and thoughts about the nature of our relationship, I was feeling insecure and I didn’t like that feeling. I guess I rarely found myself in a situation where I felt insecure, and that was probably why I felt so uncomfortable about it. Also, I wasn’t sure if it was because of the differences between our experiences. On the other hand, part of me was urging me—quite loudly—to keep on going, to see this through, to wherever it led. To tell the truth, I was more than willing to follow my inner voice, despite some hesitation. I hadn’t resolved, yet, whether I was being too careless, solely driven by my need for happiness, or if my feelings for her were truly because I was falling in love with her. Then, there was Sarah to consider! Even though I hadn’t acknowledged it to myself, yet—calling it a friendship, affection, caring for an old childhood friend, or simply lust—I knew I felt strongly about her, too.
“Let’s change roles,” Dana said. “How would you like to listen to my confession?” At that last bit, I could hear the chuckle in her voice.
“Do I have to wear a cassock or something?” I joked in an attempt to lighten up the conversation.
She gave a gentle pat on my hand, as if to admonish me but she was playacting. “I’m not talking about that kind of confession.”
“That reminds me... there’re a couple of abandoned old churches and monasteries around here. We could visit them, if you want to. I need to get some information though.”
“That’s all right. I don’t go to church regularly. As I told you before, I’m not a regular practitioner, but it might be interesting to visit them.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said. When she returned a puzzled look, I said, “I didn’t know you weren’t practicing regularly.”
“Oh! I thought I mentioned it before. No, I don’t go to church regularly. Only on special occasions, and usually it’s Mom who takes me along to go to the church. Sometimes I visit the churches when I’m traveling, but as a tourist.”
I checked my watch; it was almost ten o’clock. We had been talking for more than an hour and a half. “Shall we go down and get a drink? And maybe a smoke, before we continue?” I suggested.
“We still have some coffee and the brandy you bought. We can also open a window and smoke here.”
“I know, but I’d rather not have the room smoky. In fact, I was thinking we should have opened the window to air it out a bit in the afternoon. It’s kinda musty smelling here. It’s probably pretty chilly outside, but I’d like to have some fresh air.”
“It’s not that bad. We can air it for a while. I have some bath foam, and we can keep the bathroom door open while we take a bath to let the smell of the soap into the room...”
“Mmmm... good idea, but I’m not sure if we’ll have enough hot water to fill the tub.”
“We’ll just have to be careful about the water then. I’d really like to have a bath with you, Mitch.”
“I’d love that, Dana,” I said.
That settled, I collected our cups, while Dana took the carafe, and we left the room.
* * * * *
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