(
Note to Readers:
This concerns a woman who, in her chosen words, has had 'bad things done to me' in a sexual context. The 'bad things' are not described in detail in the story, and whoever did them is not a character here. The woman seeks to get past the trauma, and to regain enjoyment of body pleasure, with the help of a friend. All characters are at least 18 years old.)
***
Roberta wore jeans. Evan guessed this meant that she was not in circulation tonight. She had been at her flirtiest on those three occasions when he had seen her in a skirt, showing legs that seemed to have never grown hair. Tonight, maybe, she hadn't groomed them for display. Yet she was here, so she wanted some degree of interaction with people.
Evan resigned himself to friend-zoning with her. They might talk seriously on impersonal topics, and exchange viewpoints that would broaden their awareness of each other. That is, if they spent any time together at all. His fleeting hope for a hookup might impel him to chat up other women.
As Roberta strolled near where he sat, Evan enjoyed the rolling of her hips, enough to wonder if he was wrong. She was smiling. Maybe just enjoying herself? With no goals or agenda? Or, maybe, up for spontaneous fun regardless of how she'd look naked?
"Hi, Ro," he said.
She glanced his way and said, "Hey Evan," but kept going, towards the bar at the back of the open rooftop lounge.
Her flannel shirt was buttoned but untucked, and too large, maybe by choice. She had ponytailed her hair, yet copper highlights in the dark brown showed here and there. The jeans extended to the top of strappy sandals. A casual look, Evan concluded, with comfort a priority.
But the effect was still attractive--to Evan, and probably every other guy milling around the rooftop. Roberta definitely had A Face, smooth and symmetrical, with big brown eyes, lush lips, and great teeth.
Evan could only infer about her body. He had done that many, many times.
He raised his glass and sipped beer. He was alone at his table, which he had chosen to get a good view of a baseball game on a flatscreen high on a wall. So far, nobody had sought to join him. Nor had he made an effort, yet, to connect with anyone.
Evan had settled in this city, nine hundred miles from where he was raised, in the vague belief that he should get away from his family. He didn't resent his parents or siblings, he just thought that life must be better in a place where he could define himself. Yet he had few friends here, none of them close.
He had lately come to believe that he was waiting around for his life to happen, rather than becoming his life's active author. Still, hanging back put him in his comfort zone. This generally gave people a good opinion of him, because he avoided messing with others' lives. He was a nice guy, in the sense that he wanted people to be happy. When he thought about them at all.
The group Roberta joined at the bar took Evan's attention away from the ball game. Roberta stood at the outside of the seven-person aggregate, participating in the chat but now and then glancing around.
Evan noticed something. Roberta never moved in closer, so she was never surrounded. Also, she smiled when making eye contact, but when she glanced away her expression was serious, maybe suspicious.
Because he was paying close attention to this aspect of Roberta, more focused on it than on her looks or his desire, Evan saw an entire incident that others might have seen only partly:
From outside the group, Chase, a tall guy too aware of his handsomeness, ambled up behind Roberta while she started saying something to everyone else.
Chase set a hand on Roberta's shoulder.
Roberta flinched from the contact, spun towards Chase, and loudly barked "Whaaat!?" Others in the group jolted. and a few drinks spilled.
"Hey, I didn't--" Chase began.
"Don't
ever
do that, okay?" Roberta said, her frown furious, her breath rapid and audible.
She had recognized Chase. Some of the tension left her. But not all, from what Evan could see.
"Sorry," said Chase, looking baffled. He turned away, and went elsewhere.
The rest of the group showed concern that Roberta was upset. Maybe in reflex, Dina reached over to comfort her.
"No!" Roberta snapped, lurching away from Dina's hand. "I'm okay, just really startled."
"What an asshole," said Luke about Chase, "invading your space like that."
Roberta took another quick glance around and behind her, then straightened up and relaxed. "Anyway," she said, "there was a package delivered to the office, and nobody knew which department should get it."
Evan saw this as Roberta's way of erasing the incident, preventing any other discussion, even Luke's envy of Chase.
Also, Evan recalled that when she'd arrived at the bar, she had shared a leaning one-arm hug with one of the women. So her problem wasn't being touched, generally.
Evan had never tried to touch Roberta. She had touched him a few times, hands only.
A while later, looking relaxed and content, Roberta left the lounge, alone.
Evan looked away as she passed by. He felt vaguely ashamed, for having seen the incident, and her response to it.
He left a few minutes later, without trying for a hookup. His thoughts were only about Roberta. He wondered why she had reacted so strongly.
***
Roberta and Evan were in friend groups that could overlap at large social gatherings. Evan made sure to show up at a party in a young couple's third-floor apartment. As he hoped, Roberta was there. She was again dressed casually, legs covered by jeans. She moved and mingled, but often stood with her back to a flat wall. When people drifted away from her, Evan approached her directly.
"I may not know you well enough to say this," he said, "so tell me if this would bother you. I saw, uh, what happened with you and Chase the other night. If you want me to drop the subject, just say so."
Her look at him seemed to sharpen. "Thanks. But what if I don't need you to drop it?"
He hadn't expected that. But he knew what he'd do, if given the chance. "Then, um, if you want to talk about it, I'd listen. As a friend."
Despite the music and the chatter, she lowered her voice. "Why did you approach me this way?"
"Um, well, I saw what happened, and I worried that you--"
"No, I mean,
literally,
approach, this way. Straight towards me, while my back is at a wall."
He tried not to smile. "So you could see, without you moving, if anyone else was getting close, on either side."
She too seemed to hold back a smile. "I'd be okay with us talking."
She guided him to the back porch. The three-flat wasn't tall enough to require an elevator. Beyond the back door of the apartment, the porch was a wooden structure, open to the outdoors. There were stairs to ground level, serving the porches of all three flats. Roberta positioned herself at a back corner of the porch, and Evan again faced her straight on.
