Stan, on the other hand, drank liberally on this night. Not being a small man, he could hold his own, but as the night went on, anyone would notice his lips getting looser after his sixth scotch.
“Hey, Lil. How was Chicago?” Stan asked.
“Chicago?” Rory turned to face me, befuddled.
I had no idea how Stan knew, and I couldn't find the words to downplay it, being caught so off-guard.
“How'd you know?” I asked.
“Barbie mentioned it.” He jabbed his thumb in her direction.
I darted my eyes at her. “Bobby told me that was the plan. To visit.” She held in a boozy burp as she answered.
I turned to Rory, doing my best to downplay the impromptu excursion. “I forgot to mention. It was right after you left. He wanted to meet some friends and didn't want to go alone so he dragged me there.” I rolled my eyes as if the whole thing was a nuisance.
“Oh, that was nice of you,” Rory replied. “Whereabouts?”
“South Side.”
Stan raised his eyebrows. “South Side?”
“Yeah, to a jazz club. It was a lot of fun.”
“He is a Beatnik!” Stan jeered. “So you were dancing and jiving with all those niggers?”
Barbie pulled his highball glass out of his hand. “Stan, you've had too much.”
He snatched it back. “What? We're amongst friends.”
Rory and I glanced sideways at each other and shifted in our seats uncomfortably.
“What's the big deal? It's just a word. Anyway, were you the only whites there?”
“Um, no, there were a couple of others. That's beside the point.” I tried to shift the conversation, but Stan seemed fixated on Bobby being some sort of Beatnik who loved black people. Which I suppose isn't a problem, but his insistence on bringing him up made me uncomfortable.
“So is Bobby into black women then?” he prodded.
“What kind of question is that?” I sniped.
“Alright, maybe we should discuss something else,” Rory suggested. But I had had enough.
“You know what?” I leaned forward to get a closer look at Stan. “Some of those people you call niggers, served and died for our country while you were busy dodging.” His eyes widened. “Yeah, I know what your daddy did for you. Barbie told me,” I smirked, imitating the way he brought up my Chicago trip at the table. “They bled the same blood, and some never got to see their families again. Just so you could sit there and drink your scotch all self-satisfied and call someone you haven't even met a Beatnik because they don't work for some two-bit insurance agency.”
I shot up from the table. “I'm ready to go, Rory,” I said.
Stan and Barbie sat there with their mouths agape.
“Lilly, I was just teasing!” Stan desperately tried to pacify the situation.
“Fine. But I am still done for tonight. I'll see you both tomorrow. I have a lot of preparation left and Rory didn't think about that when making plans. No hard feelings.”
I stomped away from the table as Rory stayed behind to smooth things over. As I exited the restaurant he jogged behind to catch up.
“Lilly. You okay?”
“I'm fine,” I insisted.
“That escalated really quickly.”
We both slid into the car.
“What? Are you going to tell me what a drag I am? That I should just let the men do the talking? Because he was being repulsive tonight. Way more than his usual self.”
“What? No! I—I think what you just did was . . . it might have been one of the best things I have ever seen. Stan can be such a jackass. The shit he was trying to say about Bobby . . . and saying words like that at the table.”
“So you're not mad?”
“No! In fact, it's been a while since I've seen you like that. Feisty. And I don't know . . . just . . . wow.”
I smiled and locked eyes with Rory. And then I started to laugh, and he did too. I didn't know what came over me either. I never liked that kind of talk, but hearing what happened to Curtis and making friends with Will and Sasha now meant I wouldn't tolerate it either.
“Come here,” Rory said, tugging me forward by the chin to kiss me on the lips. Then he did it again, and again. And then he was kissing me like he could swallow me.
I tried. I tried to pretend like the passion was there. That I wanted his hands on my breasts and up my skirt. But even when I liked Rory, he just felt like a good friend to me. And I was scared to admit, something of a brother.
We ended up in the backseat. Me on my back, Rory pumping into me. All I could think of was how I wanted it to be over. How sex never felt like this with Bobby. A chore. Something I was purely obligated to do. That my body was somehow possessed by him to do with whatever he pleased. I was tired of using my body as a peace offering with Rory. I was tired of being afraid to hurt his feelings by telling him I didn't want him inside of me.
I couldn't go back after those two weeks. Rory sweating on top of me in this steaming hot car began to make me feel sick. Because I was being a coward. There was no grey area. I did not want to have sex with him. Not even after the moment we had shared.
“Stop,” I murmured.
“It's okay,” I'm almost there, he grunted.
“No, stop,” I repeated.
“Lil, just wait,” he ordered breathlessly.
“I said stop!” I pushed him off of me. He got up on his knees and slammed his head into the ceiling of the car, his erection pumping semen all over his hands as he tried to catch it. I sensed relief when I saw that he didn't come inside of me.
“God dammit, Lilly! What the hell is wrong with you?” He snapped as he rubbed his head with his available hand.
I didn't have an answer. Not one that would make sense to him. Not one I was ready to confess.
“If you had waited another fifteen seconds, I would have been finished!” Rory yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping his palm. He knelt in front of me, his face contorted in desperation. “What is going on? Please just tell me. What do I have to do to get you to want me, Lilly?” he asked, exasperated. “It's like I repulse you, or . . . I don't know. I’m trying here. I really am. But it's like you look right through me, Lilly.”
It hurt to hear the pain in his voice. I felt Rory trying to reach through the thick wall of resentment to grab my hand. At least in his own way. But telling him the truth would hurt him more. “I'm just not in the mood.”
“No, it's not just that. You have me here with my dick in my hands in a damned parking lot.” He sighed in frustration. “Do you even love me?”
“Yes, of course I do,” I said.
“Then what?”
“I don't know! I don't know! I just didn't want to do it.”
“I'm lost here Lilly. Just tell me what I need to do,” he begged.
I scrunched my eyes as a rogue tear escaped. “I just want to go home, okay? We'll talk about it later. Let me get you another handkerchief.”
“I got it,” Rory retorted, kneading the soiled one against his palm. It didn't feel good to dismiss him like the countless times he had dismissed me when I tried to talk to him about my needs. But I really had no answers for him. I did love him when I married him. It wasn't like how I loved Bobby, but something was there. I thought I could have been comfortable with him. I thought we could have a family and be good parents. And I can't point to the exact moment where I lost it, but it was gone. And despite all that, I didn't have the heart to say those words to him.
I thought there would be a lot of tension at the cookout, but things were too busy for me to harp on the events of the night before.
Barbie came early to help set up and apologize. I told her it was water under the bridge. It was. I said what I had to say and I honestly didn't care enough about Stan to hold a grudge.