The Night Before(35)
“So Jonathan Fields…” Rosie said, thinking out loud. “I mean Buck, or whoever he is. This man”—she pointed again at his picture—“he liked to talk?”
“You have no idea how good he is. It was as though he could read my mind. Everything I brought up, he had something clever or insightful to say about it. He never looked bored or antsy. Intellectual, well-read, you know? I honestly thought I was falling in love with him right then and there, by the end of the third date. That night, we met at a place downtown.…”
“On Richmond?” Rosie asked.
“Near there. On Main—one block over.”
“The car my sister was driving was found on Richmond! Did you go to his apartment?”
Sylvia shook her head. “No. But he asked me to go there—all three times I saw him. We talked for hours. I told him it was too soon for me to go to his place—maybe next time. This whole thing about sex on the third date—it’s ridiculous, and I wasn’t falling for it. So he suggested we go for a walk. He wasn’t put off at all—or so it seemed. And I was really attracted to him. It filled me with so much confusion and guilt, but also this passion I hadn’t felt for so long. He was inside my head. I don’t know how else to describe it.
“We went down this side street. He said he wanted to show me something. It was some kind of gallery. It was closed, of course, and the street was empty. It was after midnight. He showed me this painting in the window. He said his friend painted it. Total bullshit, I found out—the artist was dead. But that’s not the point.”
Sylvia leaned in close, lowered her voice. Her eyes scanned the small dining room, which was still as empty as it had been when Rosie had arrived.
“There was an alley between the art gallery and the next building. That was why he’d brought me there. He grabbed my hand and pulled me just inside, between the buildings. Just a little bit—so little that I still felt visible from the street. He said he couldn’t stand not kissing me for one more second. And then he did—he kissed me. And it was just like the way he got into my head and took over my thoughts—he did that to the rest of me in that alley. To my body. It was all so gradual, so natural and perfect that I didn’t even know what was happening really until my face was pressed against the side of that building and he was inside me.…”
She stopped then. Closed her eyes and shook her head quickly, as though trying to erase the memory that was before her now.
When she opened her eyes again, she blinked away tears.
“I want to be clear, though. He didn’t assault me. There was no force. Just brilliant seduction. He made me want him. He clearly expected sex on the third date and he got it.”
Rosie reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m so sorry.” She meant it, but still, this couldn’t be the end. This couldn’t just be about seduction and regret. Unless her fears were right. Unless Laura’s regret had turned to rage.
“Can I ask you what happened after that? If you saw him again?”
Sylvia slid her hand away and folded it into her lap.
“Everything changed. As soon as he had my face pressed against that wall, everything tender and loving about him turned ugly. He started saying things to me, in my ear. Dirty talk, they call it, but I had never heard it that dirty. That filthy and degrading. He bit down on my earlobe until it bled. And he was so rough and crude. When it was over, he couldn’t wait to get rid of me. He barely waited for me to straighten my clothes—he zipped up his pants and started walking. I had to run to catch up to him.”
“Jesus,” Rosie said, imagining the scene.
“Look—I’m not na?ve. And it’s not the first time I’ve been in a situation that wasn’t—you know—a relationship. I’m not the girl who thinks every guy she sleeps with wants to marry her.”
Sylvia pressed her hand on the man’s picture. “But this man is sick. He walked ahead of me the whole way back to the restaurant. He said something like thanks. And then he walked away. Just like that. He didn’t walk me to my car. He didn’t kiss me good night. He was making a point of it. Like he wanted to make sure he made me feel as used as he possibly could. I don’t think it was about the sex. He wanted to hurt me. But that’s not all.…”
She laughed then, a maniacal burst that came from deep inside her.
“I waited two days before texting him. The worst two days of my life. The facts were all there, and the feeling in my gut as well, but I clung to this shred of hope that I was wrong. That he was just awkward or kinky or something, but that the rest of it, the conversation and the way he looked at me and made me feel, was genuine. Because if I was that wrong about him … if I could be so easily manipulated … then the world felt like it was turned upside down. Like nothing was real.”
Rosie didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. She was picturing Laura with this man, wondering if she would be able to see through it. She was so good at that, at seeing people. Unless they were men offering the hope of love.
“You probably think I’m just an idiot,” Sylvia said after a short while.
“No!” Rosie said. “That’s not what I was thinking. We can’t live our lives never trusting anyone. That would be miserable.”
“Well, maybe so. But when I finally texted him, the number was unrecognizable. It was gone. Some kind of burner phone. TracFone. Disposable. His names were all fakes. He was done with me and he made sure I had no way to find him. I tried. Google. Facebook, other social apps. He was gone. And I was left with my guilt and shame, but also, you know what?”