I woke up to light streaming in the window. Morning light, not yet the harshness of day. Probably about six ‘clock. I can’t remember the last time I was awake this early without a reason. Did I work this morning? Did I work today? What day was it? There was a haze that locked out the answers. Had I been drinking last night? That answer was clear. After more then two drinks a hangover was promised no matter how much water I drank. Drinking enough to forget things? I’d feel like Hell. Instead I felt warm and comfortable and secure and…
Oh God. It was starting to come back now.
“No use playing opossum, Amber,” A voice said from close by, the same room, “I know you’re awake.”
Tentatively I cracked my eyes to look towards my bedroom door. My worst fear was being confirmed. He looked so happy standing there with his hands full of orange juice from my fridge. And for a second I forgot why terror was gripping me. The was the gentle light made his naked chest glow and the way his long blond hair curled over one shoulder in that way only entirely untreated hair can. How careless he was.
“Good morning,” I said back and stretched lazily across my bed. He smiled and came to sit next to me, placing the glasses on the nearest bedside table. And as he leaned in to kiss me I remembered a few more things I’d forgotten.
“Oh God!” I yelped and shot straight up nearly bashing our heads together. “Not God,” I sputtered, “Jesus! I mean… No…” I kept stammering as he reached over and threw one of the cups towards me. For a second I just sat there wet and frozen.
“Amber,” He said, “Are you ok?” I had no words but his voice broke the hold over me, “It’s just water.”
“Alex,” I said slowly, clawing my way back into the world. But by then I had woke up and remembered everything. How we’d met for dinner and how he’d kissed me and I’d taken him home with me where he’d kissed me a lot more. Alex. My carelessly beautiful friend. He hadn’t been careless then. Every touch so precise. Just the memory of what we’d done brought fire to my blood.
I fell back onto the pillows and covered my face with my hands. “I’m going to Hell,” I murmured.
“You really know how to make a guy feel special,” Alex said and lay down next to me.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
My bed was large, a queen, but it didn’t seem big enough for both of us right then. I wanted to scoot further away from him. For him to leave. But this was Alex. My friend. I couldn’t tell him to leave. So instead I rolled over and threw my arm around him. He didn’t respond at first except to stiffen defiantly but, as I had moments before, he gave in. The feel of our skin touching was so comfortable that for a second I forgot the intense yearning I’d felt constantly in his presence our entire friendship.
“Playing opossum?” I asked.
He laughed and the low vibrations tingled up my arm and through my body.
“Opossums play dead,” Alex explained, “My mom says that when you pretend to be asleep so you don’t have to get up.”
“That makes sense.”
I pulled myself closer so the length of me was pressed against him. He ran his hand over my thigh and kissed me. I could taste the last vestiges of sleep on him but I didn’t mind. Neither did he. He was wearing only boxer shorts and there was so much to though. As I rubbed my leg against his he kissed me harder. Then pulled away and gasped my name.
“Amber,” he repeated, “I have to go.”
“Stay a little longer,” I purred and continued trying to break his resolve.
“I have to go to mass,” he whined reluctantly, his hands pulling me closer. But those words had done it. I rolled away and pulled a sheet around me as I got up. He didn’t move, just lay there behind my back oozing frustration. At me? At himself? I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. I walked single mindedly to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. A sick feeling was welling up inside me like when someone says the wrong name during sex.
I stood there silently listening. To Alex getting dressed out in my bedroom. To my blood pounding in my ears. To people on the street opening their doors to the paper. And finally to the sound of my front door closing. Only then did I go back to my room. I was still clutching the sheet around me as if unwilling to be naked alone in my own apartment. And as if the memories weren’t bad enough, my eyes fell on the torn condom wrapper next to two untouched glasses of orange juice.
It was a Wednesday. One of my days off. A sense of uneasiness followed me through my morning routine which was already uncomfortably early. My date book had me scheduled for lunch with Ross. That would help.
Ross was an unusual sort. We’d met two years before when we’d both been waiters as a hotel lounge. We became uneasy friends, then started bickering, then gotten engaged. After our engagement had spectacularly fallen apart Ross surprised our circle of friends by getting a job as an overpriced stock consultant and left us all baffled as to how he’d pulled it off. We resumed bickering and finally became friends. And of everyone I knew he was quite possibly the only person I trusted to call me an idiot. Which is why I began begging his secrecy nearly the second we sat down.
“No,” he said.
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean I’m not going to be your sounding board for some dime store gossip.”
“This is serious,” I promised, “Big time serious but I need to talk about it.”
“How serious? Like I can tell Nancy serious or Nancy and Riley serious…”
“Like no one serious. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
“Fine,” he scoffed, “I won’t tell anyone.”
“And no telling anyone you have a secret.”
“This better fucking be good, Amber, you’re making me jumpy.”
“I kina slept with Alex,” I whispered.
“What?” Ross shrieked. He was standing up before I knew what was happening. The restraint fell silent as people stared. When he realized what he’d done he gave a polite politician’s wave and laughed nervously.
“What do you mean you kind of slept with Alex?” he hissed as he slipped back into his seat.
“I mean I kina slept with Alex.”
“Kind of as in you made out? Slept in the same room…?”
I said nothing.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Amber. No pun intended. You do know he’s a priest, right?”
“Biblically.”
Neither of us said anything. Then Ross started laughing. He waved frantically for a waiter who appeared nervously and returned in record time with Ross’ order before he’d even stopped laughing. Which wasn’t actually saying much.
“Here,” Ross pushed one of the two whiskey shots towards me. I looked at it skeptically. “To fucking the clergy,” he said in a hushed voice and, since I couldn’t argue, drank with him.
“You don’t seem to think this is as dramatic as I do.”
“Oh I think its dramatic,” Ross countered, “Its damned dramatic. Did I ever tell you my dad is a preacher?”
“You’re a preacher’s son?” I asked. He nodded. “That explains a lot.”
“Have you seen Alex since?”
“He stayed over. This was only last night.”
“Were you drinking?” I shook my head. “Was he drinking?” I shook my head. “Was it good?”
“Yes.”
“Really good?”
“Really.”
“Better then me?”
“Way better.”
“Ah Alex,” Ross got a far away look on his face, “Remember when we all went camping?”
“Riley smoked two packs of cigarettes in like three days even though he was telling everyone he’d quit.”
“And Daniel taught me how to play the didgeridoo.”
“We built a fire for the sole purpose of spitting cheap vodka on it.”
“Josh followed you around like a love sick puppy.”
“I had a hangover every single morning,” I laughed. Then stopped. “That was the week I got a crush on Alex.”
“Really?”
“I didn’t really know him before that. He came with that girl, Jenny, but spent more time with me acting like idiots. That was before he went to seminary.”
“And became a priest.”
“And became a priest.”
“What are you planning on doing?” Ross asked.
“Not a clue.”
“Do you love him?”
“I know what you’re going to say,” I argued, “You’re going to ask if I want him to leave the priesthood for me. The answer is no. I don’t want anyone to give up their dreams and goals and love for me. How am I supposed to know if he’s my happily ever after guy versus my happily ever till next Tuesday guy? If he gives up being a priest for me then that’s it. We’re stuck with each other. And even if we do fall in love and stay together forever I know he’d slight me for it. Hate me just a little bit.”
“Sounds like you’ve really thought about this.”
“I think fast.”
“Doesn’t sound easy.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s not as bad as all that,” Ross said cryptically, “Changing your life to accommodate another person. Giving up something you think you love.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I did it once for someone I cared about.”
“If you choose this opportunity to tell me you love me,” I threatened, “I might just have a nervous breakdown.”
“Very conceited, assuming I meant you. Which I did. But it was your friendship I was protecting. I big time don’t want you as my wife.
“So if he leaves the clergy,” Ross summarized, “you think he’ll hate you for it but if he stays then you’ve fucked a priest and you’re going to Hell.”
“My immortal soul for his mortal happiness,” I mused, “Seems fair.”
“Now that’s love.”
“I don’t love him,” I insisted and moved to leave.
“Where are you going? We haven’t eaten.”
“The Rectory.”
“Heh.”
“Real mature, Ross,” I paused and looked at my friend slightly differently for a second, “Why would you sacrifice anything you wanted for my friendship?”
“Because you get me.”
“Was it worth it?”
“How many people can say their best friend fucked a priest?”
“I’m guessing more then can say they’ve fucked a priest.”
“I like saying that,” Ross admitted, “fucked a priest.”
“You’re going to Hell.”
“Save me a seat. Unless you and Alex are planning on making out on it at which point don’t.”
I changed my mind about visiting Alex, (what would I say?) and just lounged around my apartment with a book. Usually Wednesday is my laundry day. It worked out because I own about ten of everything. Ten jeans. Ten T-shirts. Ten tank tops. Ten shorts. Ten dresses of various formality… So there were times when I was low on clothes by the time a week went by. I loaded all my dirty clothes into a laundry basket and stared at it.
“Who cares?” I asked myself. “Who cares if I decide to wear my clothes twice? It’s not like they smell or have mud all over them.”
“I care,” the voice of my OCD whispered, “And I’ll make your life miserable.”
It meant I was stressed. I’ve always been tidy but when I get mentally exhausted the voice starts up. As if I wasn’t stressed already now I had a demon on my shoulder asking if I locked my apartment door or if I was positive I didn’t work until five why don’t I call to make sure or why wasn’t I doing my laundry on Wednesday.
So I gave in.
I threw my laundry haphazardly into the washing machine and curled up in a chair with a magazine I’d found on the floor. My cell phone rang and I answered it without looking away from the exceedingly dull magazine.
“Hey, hon,” The voice on the other end said. I froze. Why didn’t I check the caller ID? Why did I assume I’d know who it was or that they would identify themselves? My first instinct was Ross, he likes endearments, apparently it’s a southern thing, but the first thing out of his mouth would have been ‘you fucked a priest’.
“Alex,” I blurted out uncomfortably.
“Huh?” The other end said, “Are you expecting a call from Alex?”
“Kind of. Sort of. No, not really. Riley?”
“Second times a charm,” Riley laughed needlessly, “You ok?”
“Long day.”
“Meh. Doing laundry?”
“Yep.”
“Want to grab a drink when you’re done?”
I always liked Riley. When I was with him it was like hanging out with myself. We were both just below average height but not quite short. Both wore glasses. Both had a habit of getting ourselves in strange situations. In fact, in the last three years we had only not seen eye to eye once and that was when Ross and I got engaged and I realized that I was the only person I knew who had not caught on that Riley was in love with me. But luckily that passed after a few months of not talking to each other and we picked up where we’d left off.
All contents on this and any other page on Complications is the intellectual property of Rebecca Moses.
