Maybe Maby Read online

  “You know, you kind of look like Marilyn Monroe with those huge brown eyes and blonde hair. Girl, you look sizzling!” He can’t stop smiling as he looks at me from every angle.

  I’m doing a lot of smiling for me too. I do feel sort of vixen-esque. I wouldn’t go so far as Marilyn Monroe, although something about this haircut does make me want to go buy red lipstick and black liquid liner.

  “It’s about time…” I say softly.

  “What was that?” He leans in closer.

  “Nothing,” I whisper.

  As I’m paying, Paschal says, “Hey, we’ve spent all this time together and I never caught your name.”

  “Maby.”

  He smiles. “Oh that’s perfect.”

  IT’S JUST A haircut, but damn, it feels good. I do buy the makeup and a scarf and immediately put on both. There must be some magic to the whole transformation because I don’t feel like hurrying home. While I’m feeling somewhat peaceful, I practice walking leisurely. No, I don’t need to count. There’s no reason to count flies around in my head and I just let it fly. I cannot count because I am walking like a normal person right now.

  I decide to call Saul.

  “Hello?” I say when he answers.

  “Finally!” he says. “I’ve been worried about you. I’ve called all week! Why haven’t you called me back?”

  “I am. Right now. Merry weekend after Christmas!” I try to pull off a laugh, but it sounds so fake.

  “Yeah, you too,” he snaps. “What are you doing right now?”

  “Doing a little shopping.”

  “Where?”

  “Why do you wanna know?” I sass.

  “Meet me for a drink.”

  “Ask me nice and maybe I will,” I tell him.

  “Please,” he huffs.

  “Okay! Sheesh, you don’t have to beg.” I genuinely laugh this time.

  “I’m gonna spank you when I see you. It’s on. Ear Inn?”

  “How ‘bout Pegu Club tonight…” I’m needing a little something different and it’s closer.

  “Okay! See you there in 30?”

  “30.”

  I DON’T MEAN to take my time, but I see a short navy dress in the window that catches my eye. I’m in a devil-may-care frame of mind, so I buy it and the tights that were displayed so I don’t freeze. It’s the shortest dress I’ve ever owned and looks like it was made for my ankle heel boots.

  I spritz on the last of my L’eau D’issey sample and rush inside. He’s at the bar and I go stand by him. I can tell he doesn’t realize it’s me and he’s trying to studiously avoid the girl who is inching closer to him. When he finally looks my way, his eyes go wide and his mouth drops.

  “What!” he yells. “What have you done with Maby?” He looks me over from head to toe and groans.

  “What’s the groan about?” I scowl at him, hands on hips.

  “Oh good, you’re still in there. The starlet in front of me scared me for a minute.” He laughs and pulls me up to him, opening his legs so I can get closer. “You look beautiful, Maby.” He tilts my head back. “Look at that face.” He runs his fingers along my cheekbone and I shiver. “Chilly?” he asks.

  I shake my head, tongue-tied.

  His hands roam over my body and I don’t want to move. For so long I’ve been floating in nothing, but right now, tonight, I just want to feel something. He stares at me, and I want to know what he’s thinking, but I don’t want to wreck the moment. Sparks are definitely in the air.

  Since the night things changed between us, he’s never been able to keep his hands off me. It’s what has made everything so confusing. To hear him talk, we’ve just always been friends, but I know with the look in his eye, the only reason his hands aren’t on my ass right now is because we’re in public. His hands have a mind of their own. It’s probably because I want his hands on me so bad I can taste it, that I don’t think he’s being a sleazebucket. It’s also probably why he’s stayed away all this time.

  I shake my head.

  “What’s going on in that mind of yours?” he asks.

  “I’m trying to figure you out,” I tell him.

  “I’m pretty simple.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re confusing.”

  His hands stop caressing my hips and when he pulls them away, I miss them. He gets the bartender’s attention and I order a drink.

  “How am I confusing?” he continues.

  “When we’re together, we … can’t stop touching each other. I would normally think someone doing that wants me, but … then we go a year without talking. After being so close. You had become my best friend … my only friend, really. I know … I need more friends…”

  He waits for me to say more.

  “Is this just how you are with everyone?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t do this with a dude,” he says.

  I lean my head on his chest and groan.

  “Now you’re groaning!” He laughs. He touches the back of my neck and I stay put for as long as he’s doing that. “I think it’s just so … comfortable with me and you. It just naturally goes there when we’re together. We have chemistry.”

  “That sounds so … dull.” I pull my head back. “I think you said it the last time we were together—the real reason it never goes further. I just haven’t wanted to believe it, I guess. I gotta go. I shouldn’t have called you.” I stand up to go.

  “Wait—why? You’re speaking in riddles. You haven’t even had your drink yet,” he says.

  “I can’t keep doing this, Saul. I would have risked everything to be with you. I thought you were being so careful with me because you were guilty, but after all this time, I think you’re the one who doesn’t know how to have a relationship. It’s easy to blame it all on the girl who pulls her sweaters into little nubs, but maybe I’m not the only crazy one between us.” I kiss his cheek. “Bottom line: you don’t really want me.”

  I TAKE A taxi and when I get out, I hear a voice behind me saying, “I never claimed to be sane.”

  I turn around and Saul is standing in front of my apartment building.

  “How’d you get here so fast?” I ask, walking toward him.

  “I told my cab driver to step on it,” he says, brushing my long bangs to the side. “You didn’t need to rush off.”

  “I’ve waited for you to come around for a year. It’s finally clicked.” I make the motion with my fingers, clicking on my brain. “Sometimes it takes me a while. I’ll never be what you want and I’m done sticking around to have that banged over my head.” I turn around and go inside.

  He opens the door behind me. “Wait! Why do you keep walking away from me?”

  “You’re not listening. I’m done with this.”

  “Why are you saying this? You are—we haven’t even started!” He looks lost and finally more confused than me.

  “We started when you called me every day for years to see how I was. When you checked on me every hour when I drove across the country to California. When you held me when I cried about Dalton and comforted me with your hands. When you screwed me with your fingers and when you made me laugh every single time we were together … we’ve already been, Saul.” I start up the stairs and turn around once more. “Why did you wait so long to kiss me and then feel so guilty when we did that, compared to—oh, you know, making me come?”

  He shuts his mouth and opens it up, then shuts it again.

  “I’ve been late to grow up, but I’m getting there,” I tell him. “Problem is, I need a man now.”

  I trudge up the rest of the stairs and feel relieved when all 36 are behind me.

  I CALL DR. STILL during work on Monday and schedule an appointment for the next night after work. My new look shocks everyone, but it seems to be a hit. I want to buy all new clothes to go with the hair, but think I’ve done enough damage to my credit card for a while.

  Dalton calls when I get in from work. I know I can’t avoid him forever, so I answer.

  “Are you m
ad at me?” is the first thing he asks.

  “Yes. I don’t know what to think about you right now. Do you have a pornography problem that I need to know about?”

  He nervously chuckles. “What?”

  “Enough said. Listen. I’ve seen your balls, you’ve seen my tits. Old news. Let’s just call it a day and leave it at that.”

  “Now that I’ve seen your tits again, I want more,” he replies.

  “If either of us uses ‘tits’ this many times in a conversation ever again, I’ll never speak to you again. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he says, sounding resigned. “I’ll probably break up with Courtney either way.”

  “Won’t change the matter for me, so don’t bother unless you’re over her.”

  “Dammit, Mabel, why do you have to be so heartless?”

  “I think I might finally be finding my heart again,” I answer, “and it’s tired of messing around.”

  “Well, I hope you find what you want.”

  “It’s doubtful, but I will make sure that I don’t send a picture of my tits to start it off,” I say, laughing. “Sorry, had to just say it one more time. Tits. Okay, I’m done.”

  He finally laughs. “You’re crazy, Mabel.”

  “So you’ve always been happy to remind me.”

  MY APPOINTMENT WITH Dr. Still gets right to the heart of the matter … as soon as I get in the door.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” she says.

  “Yes.”

  “Why is that?”

  “My boyfriend insisted I stop seeing you.”

  “I thought he was the one who got you to come to me.” She checks her notes to double-check herself.

  “He was.”

  “So what changed?”

  “I got on meds and got better, but … stopped wanting to have sex.”

  “Oh … you mean, from the meds? You stopped wanting sex because of the meds?” she reiterates.

  “Yes. And … well, he stopped being able to make me have an orgasm. Nothing worked.” I turn bright red.

  “I see. Well, did he realize that was also a side effect of the medication?”

  “He thought so and then started insisting I get off of it.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Well, I started getting worse. And then my mother was killed and I lost it.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.” She rapidly writes on her chart.

  “Thank you. She was stabbed by a mugger not far from home.”

  “That’s horrible! That must have been devastating. And … did you notice your symptoms increasing during that time?”

  “Yes, I got really bad. I was afraid of everything and couldn’t stop. A few weeks after my mom was killed, Dalton broke up with me to be with our friend, Courtney.”

  “Oh, Mabel. You do realize this is a lot to take for anyone, but for someone with a disorder like yours, the stress just feeds it. I wish you’d come to me then. It would have still been really hard, but I would have tried to get all the help possible for you.”

  “I’ve just sort of been frozen in time,” I say, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I lost my friends. They went with Dalton and Courtney … even friends that I thought were just as much mine.” I think of Saul and how I really have lost him for good now. “But my mom, she is the only one I really had in this world. I feel like my anchor is gone. My history. My hope.” I can’t speak, I’m crying too hard. I blow my nose to try to reel in the pain.

  “I would like to see you a couple of times a week for now. It’s completely understandable that you’ve had an extreme relapse, but I have full faith that we can get you feeling better. I’d like you to try a medicine that doesn’t have sexual side effects,” she lifts her eyebrows, “in fact, some even say it helps stimulate a sexual experience. Not for everyone, of course, but it will be better than the other. If, for some reason it doesn’t work, we can try others. You just have to communicate with me,” she says. “That’s very important. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I do and I will try.”

  “Good, now let’s work on some exercises for the next time you’re feeling like the OCD is kicking in.”

  ON MY WAY home, I stop by the drugstore to fill my prescription. I miss Saul, regardless of how he feels about me. Just talking to him that little bit more the last week has gotten him back in my system. I have to be on a detox from him and cut him off just like I would if I were going off sugar. One bite, and I just want more. I have to occupy my mind, don’t put myself in a situation where I’ll want any, and if I do get near it, only take a small bite to get the taste, but not overdose.

  But it’s easier said than done. I think of his broad shoulders and the way he can lift me with barely any effort. His smile and the way his eyes light up when they see me. The sooner I can get over him, the sooner I might be able to move forward. Feeling the slightest bit hopeful the last few days has given me the smallest desire to start over. This is all new to me. I’ve realized I can’t wish away my life. I seem to be stuck here for now and have to make the best of it.

  I just wish he loved me the way I love him.

  THERE WERE SEVERAL nights that involved questionable behavior with Saul. One weekend, Dalton and a bunch of our friends decided to go to Boston to see our friend Luke. It was all spur of the moment and Saul and I couldn’t get off work. I had a second job at the time but probably could have met up with them late Saturday. It just sounded better to have a low-key weekend, maybe see Saul. Dalton never had a problem with me hanging out with Saul. I think he knew that I needed more care than he could give me. Dalton had been going out a lot without me, and either came to bed late or fell asleep on the couch. I was still taking the meds and it was a huge point of contention.

  I took two pizzas and beer over to his apartment. Like mine, his space was tiny, and we ended up on the bed talking. He knew Dalton and I were fighting and we talked about that.

  “I think he’s seeing someone,” I told him. “Do you?”

  “I don’t know. When we go out, he doesn’t talk to anyone outside our group.”

  “I don’t know why I’m still staying. I need to get out.”

  “You said that a long time ago and then you guys worked it out. You always work it out,” he said. “I don’t even believe you anymore when you say you’re leaving.”

  “He guilts me. He guilts me and I want to go and then he guilts me and I want to stay.”

  “No one can make you do anything you don’t want to do, Maby.”

  He put his arm around me and pulled me as close as he could into his side. I felt like I could stay right there forever and be happy. I think I knew somewhere deep down that I was playing with fire, but tried to reason it away. I thought I was probably too attached to Saul but knew I was just his buddy. I didn’t try to figure out if it was more. I just liked to be with him. It was easy and always nice.

  “Come here.” He moved me in front of him and hugged me from the back. “Lay down.” I did and he massaged my shoulders and back. “Breathe,” he demanded.

  I forgot about everything else, closed my eyes and just felt his huge hands rubbing the stress away. For a long time, he worked out the knots in my shoulders. Gradually, his hands dipped lower and lower until they covered my ass and all the way down my legs. Back up, just gliding his hands over and massaging. My eyes opened and my breath came in quicker, but I didn’t stop him. He did it a few more times and then stretched out beside me. We talked all night long. About everything and nothing. His hands made constant passages on my body, nothing naughty, just steadily on me.

  I fell asleep around 6 the next morning with him spooning me and holding my hand. I didn’t want to think about if this was wrong, I just wanted to soak it in.

  All weekend there were hazy snapshots of us crossing boundaries. It felt too good to stop. We drank wine and laughed our heads off. I spent time on his lap saying nothing, just playing with the little scattering of hair on his chest. We went
swimming and when we came back inside, still in our suits, he pulled me on top of him and just held me there as we talked.

  There was one moment where he said, “What’s going on here, Maby?”

  And I said, “I don’t know…”

  But that was all the mention of anything being out of the ordinary.

  I hated to leave him the next night. He set me on his coffee table, so I was just a little taller than him and hugged me hard. Then he picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. Neither of us said anything, we just held each other.

  “Do you have to go?” he asked.

  “I should,” I whispered.

  He nodded and let me go.

  DALTON CAME HOME from his weekend extra loving. He brought flowers and took me out to dinner. I felt bad that I hadn’t stopped touching Saul’s arm or hair or chest or any part of him that I could touch … but I didn’t want anything to do with touching Dalton. I had to clear my head. Dalton hadn’t been like my other flighty short-lived romances. We’d looked at engagement rings together. I got off of the medicine that weekend and tried to work it out. Like Saul said, we always worked it out.

  He had sex with me every night that week. By the third week, the excuse that it was the medicine’s fault that I wasn’t ‘excited’ didn’t work anymore. It should have been out of my system enough by then, but it seemed Dalton was as well.

  I was going to break up with him the night my mom died. I needed to know it wasn’t for any reason other than I wasn’t in love with him, and I felt sure of that. I made dinner for us and was starting to tell him, when we got the phone call.

  THE NEXT COUPLE of weeks were a blur, but I do know that I slipped into a deep state of depression. The OCD came raging out. I cried all the time about my mother, which I think is normal, but the pain made all my old symptoms plus new ones come out. Dalton tried to be understanding for about a minute and then got pissed when he saw me acting out my compulsions.