Swim Butterfly Ch 21

Swim, Butterfly Chapter 21

Talkin' Shit

The doldrums of February set in after the tryst in Cape May. I try calling Jimmy a few times, leaving brief messages, and receiving no responses. After a while, I lay off the phone calls but continue checking the mail carefully. I send Jimmy a few letters, inquiring after his health and welfare, but again, no response.

An uneasy month goes by, during which I keep busy deep-cleaning the house. I hope I didn't scare Jimmy when I mentioned leaving Peter and I never took Jim's offer to live with him seriously.

Huh, two people talkin' shit

. Maybe Jimmy and I

are

meant for each other.

But the fact is, I miss him. Pete's impressed with my cleaning, but thinks it odd and suggests I take the kids back to that hotel at the shore for the weekend. Right, and I need another nail in my coffin.

Valentine's Day comes and goes. Nothing. I keep my fingers crossed through the month of March, that I hear something, anything, from Jimmy. My stomach turns every time the phone rings, or I hear the mailman outside. I even search the New York obituaries and news online as best I can with all his names, but nothing about Jimmy. I think I found his family in Brooklyn, but I'm afraid to reach out. How would I explain to them who I am and why I'm looking for him?

In early April, I make a plan to go to New York. Why not? Seems the only way I'm going to get answers. I have a set of keys to his apartment. His phone doesn't seem disconnected, and the couple of letters on which I dared to write my return address don't return. That doesn't tell me whether he's moved, but I like to think that at least he's not deceased. I hope. I leave Jimmy a detailed phone message about my trip, and keep my fingers crossed until that day.

***

The morning of my trip to New York, Pete looks at me. "You don't look too happy for someone who loves the city."

"Oh, I'm all right. I just want a day out to explore," I sigh, wiping the clean kitchen table, again.

"Hm, right. You sure you're okay?" He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, just starting to get cramps. It'll pass." Really? Blame it on the womanly thing? That excuse might run out any day now, but at least Pete doesn't ask further questions.

I make sure everything is in order for Pete to watch the kids all day. I kiss them goodbye, and leave the house with less spring in my step than usual. The heavy fog of this cold early April morning obscures the view out my windshield as I drive to the commuter rail. Even a heavy rain would be easier to drive through, as the windshield wipers would give you moments of clarity. This is just a thick, obstinate, sticky haze.

I catch the commuter into Philly, cross the station, then wait at the platform for the train to New York. I watch the ponderous wheels slow down as the train pulls in and wonder how many people passed through here since the inception of the route. Possibly millions. All those people. All their lies and secrets and adventures. Mind-boggling.

I can't focus on anything during the ride, and although I skipped breakfast, I still can't eat. I wear jeans and a black winter jacket, clutching my black winter pocketbook, not yet switched to my colorful spring bag. April acted like spring when I met Jimmy a year ago. This year, April clings to winter.

I weave my way through people to the steps leading up and out of the station to 7th Avenue. As I crest the landing, out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall man in dark pants and a navy pea coat. I think he's waving, then I hear, "Caroline!"

My head won't seem to turn without my neck twitching, but I look. Jimmy. He walks over to me. I meet him halfway, my hands halfway in the air, "What's up, man?" I ask.

"Hi," he grins. He reaches out to embrace me, and I let him. Eventually I embrace him, too.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I ask loudly, my voice muffled by the collar of his coat. I tighten my embrace. He feels thinner, even through the coat. He still smells good, though.

"I got your message about the train, obviously," he giggles a little, still holding me, "I'm really, really sorry I've been out of touch. Been busy the past couple of months."

I pull back, "Too busy to answer one freakin' message? What, were they lined up back-to-back?"

Fuck

, that wasn't necessary.

He tilts his head. "Really? You remember you once said..."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, Jimmy, but really? You disappear, and... and you've gotten thinner. Are you okay?"

He smiles and bobs his head. "I'm doing pretty well, actually. Very well, in fact. Let's talk somewhere else."

He takes my hand and leads the way. We walk, nearly trot, dodging people and playing stop-n-go with the lights at the crosswalks. Most faces we pass look miserable to me, although occasionally we pass a couple chatting cheerfully. Good for them.

Jimmy continues pulling me briskly right to his apartment. I don't hear a thing from him for nearly three months. I make an emergency trip to New York, and he whisks me immediately to his place?

Now

it feels like cheap sex.

"Uh, Jimmy, how about a coffee somewhere before we...,"

Apparently, Jimmy doesn't think so. He pulls me into the apartment building and we board the elevator. Jimmy pushes the button and turns to me, placing his hands gently on either side of my arms. He looks down at me, his eyes wide, soft, "I've got a lot to tell you, good news and maybe bad. I just needed to take care of some business."

I look away from him and at the floor.

"Caroline, be mad if you need to. I'm sorry I stayed out of touch, but I'll explain."

The elevator door opens crankily as usual. "Oh, come on!" Jimmy bitches, kicking the door.

Well, at least that hasn't changed,

I smile--until I walk into his apartment.

Dirty dishes in the sink. Papers all over the kitchen table. Unmade bed. Stuffy. Who lives here? Jimmy or a slovenly doppelgänger?

"Sorry, I know it's a mess," he says, throwing his hands in the air, then slipping off his jacket and tossing it over a chair.

He takes my pocketbook, drops it on the table, and pushes my coat off my shoulders. He wraps his arms around me so tightly that I have to work to breathe, "I missed you. I know you probably don't believe me, but I have. There's stuff I really wanted to talk to you about, but..."

"No, yeah, it's hard to believe. Where have you been? All you had to do was leave one message or send one lousy note. That's all." I mumble, mouth smothered by his shirt as I try to push him away, "Remember you once said to me, if I ever didn't want you any more, to just tell you?"

"Yeah, I know, I know, I fucked up, but it's not that--it's complicated," he groans, not letting up on his embrace. He does still feel good against me. Definitely skinnier.

"Why have you lost weight?" I ask.

"Just busy, that's all. No worries. I'm not sick or anything. Just give me another minute to hold you, and then I'll let you know what's going on." He inhales deeply, then exhales slowly into my neck. I close my eyes, breath with him, but then I open my eyes, looking up, down, anywhere.

"Okay, but it's stuffy in here. Can I crack your window?" I push away from him.

"Sure," he exhales, and lets me go.

My knees weak, I walk to the end of the apartment, stepping over clothes and spilled books. The clothes on the rack hang crookedly. Jesus Christ, he needs a housekeeper. Ain't gonna be me. My stomach knots up. I hike the window up a few inches, looking at the sidewalk far below.

Can I jump if I have to?

"Forgive me," Jimmy sidles up from behind and turns me around, kissing my neck. The air from the open window chills the small of my back as he unbuttons my blouse and my wits go out the window. I shouldn't have opened it. I want to push him away again, but there's no strength left in my limbs.

"Go to bed with me," he murmurs, then looks me in the eye, "if you'll have me."

I nod. I better get in the bed before my knees buckle. Leave the question of his absence and his messy apartment until later. Enjoy now, for it may be the last time, the last time he undoes my buttons, one by one.

My blouse falls to the floor. He kisses my shoulders, his fingers brushing aside one bra strap, then the other, sending goosebumps down the backs of my arms. Jimmy kisses my neck while unhooking my bra. It falls. He runs his hands down my back, over my hips, unbuttoning my pants. He unzips them and pushes down my pants and panties. I step out of them, then peel off my socks. Again, I'm totally nude before Jimmy, only this time in his disheveled place. I take his hand, hold it to my cheek, and lead him beside the bed.

The candle on the little shelf lies on its side, cold. The sheets lie in tangles. Jimmy's left one way or the other. I don't know if he's really physically going somewhere, or if something snapped in his head. I pull him to me and kiss him, not sure whom I'm kissing, just as long as some part of the Jimmy I know and love is still there. I undo his belt, unzip his pants, and shove my hand down.

"Ow! Easy!" Jimmy gasps.

"No."

"Slow down, love, slow down," he grabs my arm, pulling my hand out, "Shh," he points to the bed. I climb on backwards, sitting up, watching him undress. He pushes me back, climbing on top of me and pinning my arms over my head.

"Where were you?" I repeat.

"I'll explain," he whispers as he kisses me again. Pushing him won't force out answers, so I shut up and surrender to the spin I feel lying in his bed, naked, touched, kissed. He presses his hardness against me, opening up, "Mm, good news and bad news," he whispers in my ear, "... I'm getting married."

"What?"

My pussy's wet, but now that decadent spin makes me feel nauseous as his cock works into me.

"I... I know," he gasps, fucking me, "I wanted to... tell you earlier....," he catches his breath between thrusts, "but details..."

I move with him, trying to stop the spins that felt so pleasant before. Why not let him truly fuck me now, screwing me while he tells me he's getting married? I wonder if I'll get a wedding invitation.

"The woman you saw... at the train station... her daughter..."

"Enough," I moan, "just fuck me for now."

Our lips lock in a long, wet kiss, with Jimmy deep inside me, massaging me in places no one else could ever touch. I run my hands over his back. His muscles flex and relax. A fine mist of sweat grows between us, gasps escape Jimmy whenever he comes up for air.

He drives into me hard, "Caroline, you're mine. You know that."

"Hah!"

"I know, but you're in my heart and soul all the time, even if I don't always want that..."

Well, what do you want?

And with that, I climax, bucking up against Jimmy as he grinds into me, violent motions in an act of love. I don't want our lovemaking to end, but we have work to do. We need some kind of redefinition to our 'relationship', if you can even call it a relationship. I'm only half in this as it is, and he's now got one foot out the door. Or maybe we should just wrap this up and say goodbye before we drown.

Jimmy climaxes, then collapses on me. I'm still angry about his absence, but he feels so good against me. We never had much in the way of rules in the first place, and I never owned him, but I should matter enough to him to be honest with me.

Honest with someone? Really, Caroline?

Jimmy gives me a quick kiss and eases off, lying beside me, his hand resting lightly on my chest, "So, ready to hear the rest? Do you want to hear it?"

I sigh. "I guess I have to hear it. I can't leave you until I know what's going on."

He smirks. "How can you leave me if you were never really mine?"

"Hmm, in the throes of passion, you said I was yours." I remind him.

"Yes, I did say that. Did I tell you I'm getting married?"

I cuff him, "Yes, fool! Congratulations. Don't invite me to the wedding."

"You want to hear about it?" he grins.

"Yes, already!" I tweak his nipple.

"Ow! Okay, so...," his fingertip trails along my neck, "remember the woman from the train station?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, okay, babe, this really ain't all that easy to tell you. Anyways, I met up with her a few times later. We were supposed to have a date, but instead we got to talking about a few things. Long story short, her family has a lot of money, well, her parents do, in a trust fund, but the fund opens up only when she has grandchildren. She's only got the daughter, who is real feminized-up, and doesn't want to marry. The family is leery of anyone who comes to call, so to speak, so this is where I come in." His eyes take on a shine as he tells me this romance novel plot that's full of holes.

"They want us to marry and start a family. I've tested positive for all the right things, negative for all the wrong things, so I passed all the prerequisites with flying colors. We spent a month in Europe getting to know each other, and we think we can make a go of it. We don't have to stick together forever, just a few years to start a family in legal wedlock, and if things don't work out, I can leave with a nice settlement."

"

Settlement?

Is this for real?" I narrow my eyes.

He nods.

"So, you're like a mail-order husband? They're buying you? Renting you?"

"Yep. I've always been for sale anyways. You know that," Jimmy replies.

"Well, no,

you

were never for sale, just your Johnson for rent. That's different."

I shut my mouth for a moment, staring at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the paint. "Is your arrangement so unlike mine? Well, good luck, whatever you do," I murmur.

"Not luck, my love. Calculation." His finger traces my jawline.

"But you'll need luck, or something, when the wife wants to give you the boot, but you've fallen in love with your children."

"I'll handle that when the time comes."

"

If

the time comes. You might fall madly in love with your wife, too, and live happily ever after." I turn my head to look at him.

He smiles, "Wouldn't be wrong, would it? I think I detect some jealousy. I should have bought you a hamsa instead of a butterfly," he smiles and brushes the pendant that's ridden up to my throat.

Good point. I have to grow up and get over myself. Isn't this what I wanted for Jimmy? Sure, I'd like to have him all for myself, but I can't sacrifice my family, and I shouldn't stand in the way of him pursuing his own. So I sacrifice myself.

The bed rises and falls with the swells of the ocean; the crest of one swell divides us, and I drift one direction, Jimmy in the other. I place the palm of my hand on his cheek and kiss him softly on the forehead,

"I need a shower."

"Want me to join you?"

I shake my head. He mouths 'okay' and closes his eyes. I gather my clothing from the kitchen floor and take it with me into the bathroom. The lukewarm water slaps my skin, sluggishly trickling down. I don't feel clean, but I shut off the shower, anyway. I step out, dry off, and pull on my limp clothes. When I open the bathroom door, Jimmy's up, barefoot, jeans on, and brewing coffee.

"Have a cup with me before you go?" he offers.

I nod yes, slowly, sitting at the cluttered kitchen table. When he turns his back to me, I steal a glance through the papers. I find a passport and open it, catching a few loose euros in my hand just before they clatter on the table. Below the passport photo of the face with the high cheekbones and huge, haunting eyes, I read 'Arseni James Marchenkov', with Paris, Berlin, and Athens recently stamped inside the passport. I guess he really went. I guess he's really going. The passport returns beneath the clutter with a quick swipe, just as he turns his head.

"Coffee'll be just a few minutes," he smiles, and excuses himself to the bathroom.

No, I'm done here. I sling my pocketbook over my shoulder and slink out the door while he's in the bathroom. I drink too much coffee, anyway.

***

I never knew I could fly down stairs. I can't risk waiting for the elevator. My eyes sting and my nose tingles before I get to the ground floor. I have to slow down because I can't see and I still need to break through the lobby, my head down, and shove the ugly glass door out of my way.

I find a nook a couple of blocks away from Jimmy's apartment and sit down, leaning hard against the cold granite. Somewhere between the shudders and stuttering breaths, I laugh when I realize I forgot my dumpy black pumps under his table. Again. My stomach gnaws with hunger, but I

still

don't want to eat. I just want to find my way back to the station when I nearly jump at the buzz of my phone. I look. Jimmy texts,

I love you. Take your time.

Smile, cry, but don't reply,

I chant, hiding in this nook and rotating the dragon ring on my finger. I'll send the ring back tomorrow. Then, as I did six months ago, I'll test for STDs. Should have done it sooner.