Tease (Songs of Submission #2)(28)

My phone blooped, and I finally looked at it. The number wasn’t in my contacts, but I recognized it anyway.

—see me—

Scrolling revealed five more of the same.

—see me—

—see me—

—see me—

—see me—

—see me—

“How did Kevin get my number?” I asked.

“Darren. I told him not to.”

“God. Fuck him. Is that a man thing? We’re all too butch to admit something would be a problem?”

I held the phone out for Gabby so she could see the six texts. “You should see him,” she said. “He met us after our show. I think he’s over you.”

“And these texts prove it.” I held up the phone for her to see, then I texted him back.

—leave me alone—

“I’m going to bed,” I said. “Did you take your meds?”

“Yep.”

I stood behind her for a second. I didn’t believe her, and I didn’t know if I should say something or not.

I trudged to the bathroom and took out her bottle of Marplan. She’d just gotten a refill that past Monday. There were a lot of pills, and a month ago, I would have counted them. I would have checked Darren’s text with the last number he counted and counted the number of hours since to see if she’d taken two per day. Then I would have texted Darren the results, and all would be well with the world.

But I knew I wouldn’t count all those pills. Darren hadn’t texted me a pill count in a day and a half, and I was tired, and horny, and my phone blooped again.

I put the top on the bottle and put it away. I brushed my teeth and went to bed, taking my phone under the covers.

—let me explain, pls. I needed to make that piece. I’m not trying to get you back I know you’re happy with someone else—

Happy. Sure. Kevin had only known the Monica who was never casual about sex. He’d only known the fully-committed me. I was suddenly miserable with Jonathan. Two f**ks and a few illicit fingerings, and what would it ever be? A few more f**ks and some more denied orgasms. In the end, we’d move on. He didn’t have space in his heart for me. He’d made that clear. I’d never felt so empty in my life.

—good night Kevin—

Another text came in.

—Thank you for tonight. I’ll call you during the week to check on that baseball—

—You’re welcome.—

—Speaking of…They’re playing the Mets the day after I get back—

I had snappy comebacks ready, but they turned to ice. Every bit of attention he gave me made me sad because it was fleeting and meaningless. I didn’t have the will or the energy to play his game.

—Ok good night—

Bloop.

—see me—

I shut the phone and closed my eyes. The baseball between my legs shrunk into an olive, and I fell asleep.

CHAPTER 17

Impossible as it seemed, I was more sore the next morning. Gabby was already up when I trudged into the kitchen. She stared into the corner with a mug of coffee in her hands. If someone had put a gun to my head and asked, I’d have said her coffee was cold.

“Gabby?”

“Should we practice a new set for our meeting?”

“At WDE? No. It’s a meeting, not an audition. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” She looked at me as if I’d woken her from a nap. “We have rehearsal in an hour. Let me shower first.”

We’d moved the rehearsal venue from the studio, which cost money but was necessary with a band of four people, to the living room, which was free and was fine for two people. We were as diligent about our appointments as we would have been if we were meeting at a studio.

I boiled water for tea as I heard the shower go on. The slap of metal on metal from the gate outside was barely audible over the noise. It was way too early for the mail. I got to the front door just in time to see a green Jaguar going up the hill and a bulky figure in the front. Lil, for sure. I got out onto the porch quickly enough to see the backseat was empty. When I turned to go back inside, I saw a little navy box with a silver ribbon. I scooped it up and ran into my room, clicking the door shut behind me.

I sat on my bed and undid the ribbon, revealing the silver HW on the top of the box. A little envelope had been attached to the bottom, and when the ribbon slipped away, the envelope dropped into my lap. I opened it.

Dear Monica—

Please take this as a token of my appreciation.

—Jonathan

I slid the box open, then the box inside that. It held a three quarter inch long bar, silver or platinum, with a circular diamond set in the bottom.

A navel ring. A real one to replace the fake ring I’d gotten from the piercing place on Melrose. I held it up to the morning light, and I was again distracted by how shabby and cheap everything in my room looked, the mess of laundry in the corner, the old frames on my pictures, the smudges on my mirror.

I peeled my shirt off and replaced my crappy navel ring with that gorgeous thing. As I looked at myself in the mirror, loving it, I wondered what it was for. I read the note again. Appreciation for what? Me, generally? Or something else? The card was too small to write more, but I wasn’t sure what to make of those nine words.

The shower went off. I held my concerns. I had to shower, dress, drink my tea, and show up in the living room ready to go. I couldn’t be burdened by my worries about what Jonathan meant to me and what I did—or didn’t—mean to him.