And I can’t change it by yelling at you.” I closed my eyes and found an island of peace. “I was talking to Sara,” I said at last. “The photographer.”
Wren nodded.
“We sorta became friends while I was dating Daphne. She needed a shoulder to cry on. Turns out I did too.”
“For real?”
“Yes and no. No, I wasn’t really crying. But yes, I needed someone to talk to.”
“About Christy?”
“And Gina.”
“Her.”
“Yes, ‘her.’ She was an important part of my life, Wren. She might be again. So you’d better get used to it.”
“I—”
“My life, Wren. Mine. Not yours.”
“You’ve made that very clear.”
“And you’ve made it very difficult.” I stared at the ceiling and ran my hand over my face. “Look, I don’t wanna get started again. I know you want me to be happy. I just wish you’d… let me figure it out for myself.”
“You don’t seem to be doing a good job.”
“You’re right about that.” I laughed, but softly. “You haven’t exactly helped, though. If anything, you’ve made my life more complicated.”
“How?”
“By throwing Christy into the mix. I was fine before you told me about her, about what she likes. Now she’s all I think about!”
“Seriously?”
“Yes and no. Again. I know I keep saying that, but I’m pretty mixed-up.”
“I’ll say.”
“I like Gina. I really do. Part of me still loves her. I wouldn’t have to
explain my lifestyle to her. I wouldn’t have to deal with her stupid Catholic guilt. And I wouldn’t have to convince her that I’m not Satan.”
“Christy doesn’t think you’re Satan.”
“She thinks I’m a bad influence.”
Wren shook her head. “She thinks she’s bad, for how you make her feel, what you make her want to do.”
“Did she tell you what happened after the party?”
She nodded.
“All of it?”
“All of it. Including stuff you probably didn’t realize.”
“Such as?”
“Such as… she wanted to do more.”
I quirked an eyebrow.
“Duh. Figure it out.”
I didn’t need to. I already knew.
“And I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but… She likes to be told what to do.”
Both eyebrows shot up.
“Like, give her orders. ‘Take off your clothes.’ ‘Spread your legs.’
‘Finger yourself.’ Stuff like that.”
“For real.”
“Mmm hmm. It gets her hot.”
“Listen, here’s the problem with that,” I said. “It’s fun once in a while, but it doesn’t make for a good long-term relationship. Kendall was like that.”
I laughed at a sudden realization. “Matter of fact, Christy is a lot like Kendall.
I never realized it before. The same religious background and hang-ups.
Baptist versus Catholic, but the result is the same.”
“How do you mean?”
“Kendall had a wild fantasy life. And we did some really crazy stuff together. But I always felt like she needed me to… I dunno… turn the key, so to speak. And she always went way too far when she got started. Like she had no control once I released the bad girl inside. I don’t really want that again. I don’t mean the wild sex. That was fun. But feeling like I was totally responsible for her behavior.”
“I get it,” Wren said. “I think.”
“One of the things I really like about Gina is that she’ll start things sometimes. Same with you. Leah and Susan too. And I guess that’s what I
find most attractive about all of you. You aren’t wallflowers. Don’t get me wrong, Kendall wasn’t either. But she wanted people to think she was.”
“That’s Christy, all right.”
“Maybe that’s why I’ve been fighting you so hard,” I said. “And why I couldn’t admit that I even liked her until I was talking to Sara.”
“But you do like her?”
“What’s not to like? If she’s really like you say she is—”
“She is.”
“—then you’re right, she’s my wildest fantasy. But here’s the catch… I don’t want to live with a fantasy. I tried that once, with Kendall. It was kind of boring in the end. And frustrating. She never could break out of her shell.
Worse, it was her own making. She had this dumb idea that she had to be one way in public and another way in private.”
“So… what’s the solution? With Christy, I mean.”
“No clue. But I don’t want an altar girl. Real women have flaws.” I laughed and gestured. “Take you, for example. You’re smart, sexy, and incredibly motivated. But you’re a meddling matchmaker who won’t take no for an answer. You’re also convinced that your way is best, to hell with what anyone else wants. You’re smug when you get what you want but irritable when you don’t. And in spite of all that—or maybe because of it—I love you.
Not romantic love, but you know what I mean. I love your virtues and your vices.”
“Thank you. I think.”
“You can also tell Christy I don’t want a madonna. Or a whore,” I added with a frown.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s a psychology thing. Kendall told me about it. Sigmund Freud, I think. Some guys want a whore in bed, but they’ll never marry her. They marry a madonna instead, but she doesn’t excite them in bed, so they end up cheating with a whore type. I didn’t choose those words, by the way. It really bugs me that a woman who likes sex is a ‘whore,’ but that’s Sigmund Freud for you.”
“Man, you talked about some weird stuff with Kendall.”
“And the stuff you and I talk about is normal?” I laughed. “Seriously?
We’re talking about your best friend and what I want in a sexual relationship with her. How is that normal?”
“Don’t use logic on me when I know I’m right.” She tried to look cross.
“The problem is,” I said, “I really am at a crossroads. Do I choose Gina or Christy?”
“I know who I’d choose.”
“Yeah,” I said dryly, “I got that.”
“Is there anything I can do to help you make the right choice?”
“Tell Christy to ease up on the guilt. I really don’t mind her going to church or confession or any of that. Heck, if it makes her happy, I support it.
But I don’t like feeling that I’ve done something wrong, just for being who I am. And if she’s really like us, as much as you think, then she shouldn’t feel bad about it either.” I took a deep breath and gazed up at the corner again. “I spent a long time by myself this summer…”
“I know. I think it rotted your brain.”
“But one thing I learned is how to live with myself. I am who I am. You know? I don’t have a public face and a private one. You get what you get; take it or leave it.” I chuckled at a minor epiphany. “I think that’s why I’m making a point to be more open and accepting with guys like Andy and Jamie.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask about them,” Wren said. “Christy thinks they’re… you know.”
“Gay,” I said simply. “They are. But think about it… is being gay really that different than being a swinger?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Oh? How?”
“I dunno. It just is.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s a stupid society thing, like how we treat women. Do you wanna be shamed and rejected simply because you like sex with different people, men and women?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then how do you think they feel? They like sex with men. So what?
Heck, you told me yourself that your mother’s practically a lesbian. Is she a candidate for public humiliation?”
“No!”
“Exactly! So maybe you can add guys like Andy and Jamie to the list of people like us—not wrong, just different.”