I did not want to leave Jesse's bed. I loved being held and the warmth of our bodies. I knew my life was now changed forever. This was my first day in Boston and I couldn't believe I was in bed with a man I just met. I couldn't believe we had fucked on the kitchen floor of my apartment. I couldn't believe I actually had dinner with a man who seemed to see into my soul and knew me. Things like this happen in romance novels and in movies, but they don't happen in real life and they definitely don't happen to me-- and my mind was spinning trying to comprehend what was happening.
"Thinking again," Jesse said, lifting his head from my shoulder and smiling into my eyes.
I nodded looking into his blue eyes, noticing how they twinkled and the lines next to his eyes as he smiled. I didn't know what to say. I was still stunned by my being here and all that was happening.
"Be here," he said.
I nodded again, smiling back at him, trying to stop my mind.
"I don't believe what is happening to me. I don't believe all this is happening on my first day away from home."
He nodded, listening but didn't say anything. He just looked at me with his tender smile. I sighed, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I glanced over at the table, the soup bowls pushed to one side remembering how he fucked me there. My eyes moved around the small room at the books, the green chair, the small kitchen, the loaf of bread on the counter, half sliced. I looked back at Jesse, still looking down at me, smiling.
He lowered his face and kissed me lightly. I returned the kiss. We were still silent.
"Do you believe in destiny?" I asked, breaking the silence, remembering a few of the romance novels I read.
"I don't know," he responded. "All I know is that life is mysterious." He paused. "I would like to believe in destiny and fate, but I also think everything is random, haphazard. Things just happen and there is no rational explanation."
I listened as he spoke, enjoying his thinking.
"We humans think we have to understand everything so we make up stories to explain what can't be explained. Do you know what I mean?"
"I think so," I responded, nodding.
"That's why I said stop thinking. You're trying to figure out what's happening instead of just being in the present and just enjoying."
"You're right" I nodded. "But it's hard not to think and try to make sense of everything."
"True, but when you realize that life just happens and you have little or no control, you just accept what comes your way and embrace it. That's my philosophy." He leaned down and kissed me again, lightly. "Whether our meeting like we did today was destiny or just luck, I don't know. The only thing that matters is that it happened and here we are." He kissed me again. "So let's enjoy and go hour by hour and see what happens."
"I've never met anyone like you," I said.
"You never will, either," he answered. "You will never meet anyone like me," he said. 'I know that sounds like I'm tooting my own horn—which I am, but you will see."
"What will I see?" I asked.
"I am not going to tell you what you will see, but you will know what I mean in good time."
I felt confused by his words but just listened, fascinated by the mystery he was creating.
Suddenly, he rolled off of me and sat on the side of the bed. He took my hand, looking back at me-- my head on the soft pillows.
I looked up at him, wondering what he was going to say as he looked into my eyes. He took a deep breath.
"Molly, I am almost thirty years older than you. You are young and I am happy that we have met but I don't want to get in your way or complicate your life."
"What are you saying?" I asked. "Is this a one-night stand?" I asked feeling anger rising.
"I hope not," he said.
"What do you mean you don't want to complicate my life or get in my way?"
"You've been in Boston for one day. You have to experience being free to explore what it's like to be away from home and on your own. Meet other men—younger men closer to your age."
"Are you brushing me aside?' I asked, feeling my heart pounding.
'No," he answered, taking my hand. "I'm not brushing you off. If anything I want to bring you closer by letting you go."
"Letting me go?" I blurted out. "I don't get it," I said, after a moment of being stunned by his words.
"Life has more imagination than the mind," he said, rubbing the back of my hand has he held it with his other hand.
"What's that suppose to mean?" I asked, confused and still feeing I was being rejected.
"It means you have to live and see where life takes you," he said, calmly. "Let the path unfold and take it one step at a time."
"I'm doing that. I left my town where I was a prisoner and came to Boston and I met you on my first day. I still can't believe it and now you are telling me you think I should meet other men. Why?"
He nodded, his blue eyes looking into mine, seeing how upset and confused I was.
"Why would you want me to meet other men unless you are not happy with me and this is your way of brushing me off, taking advantage of me and then saying you're letting me go for my own good. It feels like you are pushing me away."
"I understand you feel I am brushing you off, but I'm not," he said. "I can see what a good hearted, wonderful person you are. I would be a fool to brush you off, but you need freedom. You have been in a prison all of your life. It's time for you to feel free, meet other men, fuck them, go places, get a job, experience the world." He paused.
Tears swelled up in my eyes, my throat ached as I tried not to cry. I heard his words but at that moment, he was all I wanted to experience. I was trembling and did not want to leave the bed and at the same time I wanted to run away. I was angry that he did not want to possess me, that he didn't think enough of me to keep me his, that he wanted me to be with other men. Why? Why was he doing this to me?
"Don't be upset, Molly?" he said, looking into my eyes. "Believe me, this is for the best."
Suddenly, I sat up then pushed myself out of bed, quickly found my skirt, my bra, my blouse. I held back my tears and then my words burst out before I could stop them, "I HATE YOU!"
I quickly got dressed, picked up my shoes and bolted for the door. I turned to him. "I HATE YOU!" .
I ran down the hall and up the stairs to my apartment. I was sobbing. It was early in the morning and no one was up. I opened my door and slammed it shut, half hoping he would have followed me, try to stop me but he didn't. I wanted him to keep me. I was shaking and somehow wanted to make him want me. I would show him. I would hurt him like he was hurting me. I was determined.
Later, after taking a shower, I decided to get dressed and go to the coffee shop up the street, get a paper and start job hunting. I needed a job and I wanted him to know I didn't need him. I would snub him, show him how much I hated him for hurting me. "I'll show him," I said as I got dressed in my tight jeans and tiny tank top. I combed and fluffed out my hair and liked how sexy I looked.
When I walked outside, Jesse was coming out of the alley carrying two trash cans to the curb. I saw his eyes looking up and down my body, obviously liking what he saw but he didn't make a move to come towards me. I turned away, barely looking at him and walked in the opposite direction towards the coffee shop. I knew he was looking at me and I liked that, I wanted him to know what he was losing, but I was not going to give him an inch. I was determined not to let him hurt me again. I would make him want me and then not give in to him. No way would I let myself be vulnerable again. I wanted him to see me with other men, wondering if I was fucking them, making him jealous and know he lost me by brushing me off. I wanted to hurt him. How could he want me to fuck other men and not be his? I was furious.
I walked into a café up the street called The Coffee Club. It was nicely furnished with small wooden tables, some of them round and larger. There were some couches and soft chairs with magazines. The café was crowded with business men on cell phones, college students, women dressed in smart suits, others in skirts and blouses, many in jeans or slacks. Some people had computers and others listened to their I-pods. It was busy but quiet at the same time, except for the jazzy music playing. Several men looked up as I walked by their tables towards the counter. Obviously my tight jeans and skimpy tank top were catching eyes and I liked that.
I went up to the counter and looked up at the big back board on the wall that listed all kinds of coffees-- espresso, cappuccino, lattes and on and on —things I had heard of but never had. I didn't know what to order when the girl behind the counter asked, 'What can I get you?"
I looked up at the board then back at her, noticing the small gold stud in her nose and at least six tiny earrings in a row on her ear. She smiled at me while I thought.
'So many choices," I said.
"Yeah, there are," she answered.
"Just a regular coffee," I said, still too upset with Jesse to think.
"To go or for here," she asked, looking at me with a slight smile. I think she too was looking me over.
"For here," I responded.
"Cool," she answered. "A mug is a dollar—twenty five but you can have a refill for another quarter."
"Just the mug," I answered, looking around for an empty table.
When I turned, I saw a man looking at me and our eyes met. I quickly turned away but knew he was checking me out. He was probably my age and had short blond hair. I wanted to turn and look at him again but didn't. I liked that he was looking at me but didn't want to show any interest I knew I had to walk past his table to get to the empty one I saw near the rear of the café.