As soon as the rain stopped, we started heading back to the house. I crossed my fingers hoping that our shoes were fine as we approached the slope. And they were. They sat there the same exact way as we left them, except for when Adam had to empty his shoes like water buckets. On our way back I tried to squeeze as much water out of my sweater as I can, and the whole thing still weighed down on my shoulders. I looked at Adam and noticed how his damp shirt clung to him. He was drying his socks when he asked, "Do you think you can lend me some clothes? I'd appreciate anything that fits me, really." I laughed, thinking of how my shorts would look on a man's body and he glared at me. "You're lucky," I said, "because James forgot to wait for his laundry before he left. So I actually had some fresh man clothes delivered to me when I got here." Adam chuckled triumphantly. "Well, what do you know? I'm sure he won't miss those." I agreed. "I called him about it and he told me not to bother sending the damn things. I didn't insist, I was glad he said no because it would cost me for shipping." Did I just really tell Adam that? "Don't tell James I said that," I pleaded. He grinned. "Are you kidding? I'm the one trying to steal his clothes."
When we got back to the house I immediately ran up the stairs into the bedroom to get some towels. I gave Adam two large ones so he won't freeze to death while waiting for me to finish showering. "Turn on the stove if you have to, just don't die in my house, please," I begged as I headed up to the bathroom. "Can I die outside?" Adam asked. "Yes!" I screamed from the shower. I moved quickly, frankly because there was sand in my butt crack, but also because I was concerned about the shivering man sitting at the bottom of the stairs who probably also had sand up his. The moment I got out, I told him to hurry and get in. "There's hot water," I said, "and your clothes are in there so you can change right away." He got up and headed for the bathroom, saying, "Or I can walk around here naked." Ha-fucking-ha. "Sure," I said, "until the cops shoot your ass with a tranquilizer dart." He chuckled and I heard the water running.
The moment I heard him shut the water off I started making tea in the kitchen. He came downstairs and walked up behind me. "What's that?" He asked. "I made tea to warm us up. Want some? It's Earl Grey." I poured a cup for myself and added sugar. "Okay," he replied, "thank you." He offered to pour his own tea and I told him he could find milk in the fridge if he needed it. He sat down with me in the dining. "So we're back here, huh?" He asked. I smiled. "Yeah. Where else would we be?" Adam looked at me. Then he sat up. "Oh, your girlfriend left you a note on the foyer." He handed over a piece of paper, sliding it on the table. What girlfriend? "Who?" I asked confusedly. "Marilyn," he said. Oh, girl-space-friend. The note said, "Dropped by to chat but you weren't here. Left wine bottle in the fridge. Will come back soon. - M." I thought the message ended there but at the bottom was, "PS. Why is there a man's wallet on the couch? I left it on the coffee table." I craned my neck to check the living room. "Don't worry, I got it." Adam said, taking his wallet out from his (or James's) back pocket and quickly waving it for me to see before putting it back in. Only then did I notice how perfectly the clothes suited him. He had a plain white t-shirt and khaki board shorts AND most surprisingly he was wearing slippers that fit him, too. Oh, so NOW he's dressed for the beach. Where the hell did he find those? "Where the hell did you find those?" I asked, looking at his feet. He chuckled and said, "In the bathroom corner. You never noticed?" Seriously? "No. Never. God, James didn't clean up too well, did he?" I said. "Neither did you," Adam replied. "Shut up." He smiled and finished his tea. I checked the time. 4:02. "So," Adam said, looking at the note, "Is Marilyn coming back today?" I glanced at the piece of paper and folded it in half. "No. She usually drops by once every week and lately she's been doing it twice or three times even. I think she just needs someone to talk to. Or... maybe she thinks I need company here." Or wine. Or both. "She's very kind, you know. She brings me wine a lot." Adam laughed. "She really likes you, Sylvia." I shrugged then nodded. "I like her, too." This is my chance. I recalled how the fortuneteller told me I cannot help Marilyn, but I was determined to defy her expectations. I continued, "I mean, you do like her, too. Don't you?" I sipped tea and stared at Adam, anticipating his response. He chuckled. "You don't understand. She LIKES you, Sylvia. She's a lesbian." I froze, staring at Adam like he was the grim reaper. When I regained my senses I struggled not to spit my tea back into the cup in shock. Adam was just laughing at my reaction. "You are wonderfully dense, did you know that?" He said. My brain rebooted and I finally swallowed the lukewarm tea in my mouth. "But, she just told me she liked YOU, Adam," I said. He grimaced. "That can't be true. You must have misunderstood. Or she lied to you. Because she told me something else." What? How? "She said you guys never talked since we got together at the farm," I argued. "Right," he replied, "that's when she told me. Sort of." Sort of!? "You can't just blurt that out and then tell me you're not sure, Adam." I was beginning to doubt what he said, but his expression was determined. "Okay," he said, "let me explain." And he told me what happened that night.
∞∞∞
Marilyn and I got out of George's car. Sylvia was sleeping in the back seat so I opened the door to let Marilyn help her up. Man, this woman can drink, huh? Sylvia was half awake now, limping towards her front door with Marilyn and me at her side making sure she doesn't trip and fall. We got in and braced for the upward climb on a flight of stairs when suddenly, Sylvia started unbuttoning and unzipping her pants. Holy shit! She was just about to slide her pants down when I looked at Marilyn and said, "I'll wait for you outside," turning away quickly and closing the door behind me. One hand on my forehead and the other on my hip, I turned sideways and forward anxiously and tried to forget what I just saw. She was actually gonna take her pants off. That is insane! I exhaled loudly and watched my breath float up and disappear. I walked back towards the small entrance gate and waited by the car to shake off the cold. I thought about how I could get my jacket back, smiling at the fact that when she got up and put it on nobody there seemed to notice something was wrong. Was I the only one who was NOT drunk at that porch? I checked my watch - 9:10. I was surprised at how quickly we arrived since we left George's at 8. I realized that if it weren't for the accident we wouldn't have had to travel for more than an hour from Central to the farm. But I wouldn't have gotten the chance to know everybody a little better either. Especially Sylvia. The moment I saw her, I found her beautiful. A little pale, but it suited her in a weird yet interesting way that I couldn't really determine. She dressed simply but she carried herself well, and to be honest, I kind of noticed her nice figure. Even so, I was dismayed when I saw how she could be a real snob. At Central she pulled an empty chair for me so I'd sit away from her and I thought, okay, I got the message, I'm not joining you. And when she got bored she showed it to your face, like when she started playing with her phone. At the restaurant I offered that we get a table with only her in mind because I thought she might get tired standing, but she turned it down rather quickly. And I thought, wow, this woman is something else. But on the way to the farm, she smiled a lot like she was genuinely happy and although Grandpa George did most of the talking, when she spoke you could tell that everything about what she says is true and so you tend to listen well. I know I did. And I know Marilyn did. They must really be best friends because Marilyn just looks at her like they shared something deep.
I snapped back to reality when Marilyn came out. "How is she?" I asked. "She's sleeping now, Mr. Blake. I tucked her in to bed." I went around to open the car door for Marilyn and she thanked me as she got in. We drove away, heading back to the farm. I kept checking the time. It was 9:30 and Marilyn still hadn't said a word. It felt a little uncomfortable and I wasn't sure if I could turn on the radio without seeming rude, so I asked, "How long have you and Sylvia been friends?" Marilyn shrugged and spoke coldly. "Since she moved here." I was waiting for a follow-up question but it never came. Great. Now it's more awkward. I had been thinking of what else to say when Marilyn interrupted my thoughts. "She's very kind, isn't she?" She asked. "Yes, I believe so," I replied. "You two close?" I asked just to keep the conversation going. I was shocked when Marilyn looked at me sharply and said, "What makes you ask that, Mr. Blake?" I struggled to sound normal. "Um," I cleared my throat, "just curious, I guess. And, you know. Keeping conversation." I chuckled, but Marilyn didn't make a sound. Was it something I said? Oh, I get it! I decided to apologize. "Hey, um. Sorry for back there. I didn't know what to do when she started... I hope you didn't have a hard time helping her up the stairs. If only I could have helped, I'd..." She cut me off. "It's okay, Mr. Blake. It was pretty easy. Miss Sylvia was a bit more awake then. And thank you for being sensitive enough to look away." Thank God. So what's wrong then? For the life of me I couldn't recall anything that could have offended her. To hell with it. I'm gonna ask point blank. "Is everything okay, Marilyn? Did I say something? Are you feeling alright?" She was silent for a few moments but eventually she replied, "I saw you looking at her. You must think she's beautiful. Don't you?" I swallowed. Is this a trap? "I didn't really SEE anything back there, thankfully I turned..." Marilyn interrupted. "No, no. I meant in the car. At the farm. Do you like her?" I felt cornered. And at the worst possible time, we got held up by some traffic. So I had no choice but to look her in the eye when I answered. "I... I do. I'm sure you can see why, right? You know her more than I do. I guess I'd like us to be friends. And I mean all of us, you know?" Hah! I think I handled that pretty well. To my surprise, Marilyn chuckled. I felt that the mood had turned for the better somehow so I thought I could tease her a little bit. "You're a very protective friend, huh?" She laughed, so I continued. "Then she's lucky to have you looking out for her. I know I might sound a little forward but whatever happens, for the record, I'm a good guy. And my intentions are good." Marilyn laughed again. Does she think I'm joking? "Okay, Mr. Blake. I only want her to be happy. And Miss Sylvia isn't dumb so I'm sure she won't let anyone fool her anyway." The stoplight turned green. I glanced at her and nodded. "Yeah." I didn't know what else to say after that. Her aura felt a little different. And she said the last thing I expected her to say. "I believe you could be a very interesting rival, Mr. Blake. I don't know if she could ever choose to fall in love with me, but we'll see." Looking ahead into the highway, she smiled.
We arrived back at George's by 10:00 that evening. He was still out on the porch drinking but this time he had Peter with him. They stood up to welcome us and I gave George his car keys, thanking him. They asked about Sylvia and I assured them she was well and safe. Peter apologized for leaving early but we all told him he had nothing to be sorry for. I asked George how they knew each other and the old man told me he needed at least one extra person at the farm especially at night to watch over the grove. I understood. George invited us to sit back down and have more wine but Marilyn politely declined. She said she was tired and wanted to retire early to bed so she said good night to everyone. I wasn't sure how she'd bid me farewell. She smiled at George, then Peter, and when she turned to face me, she blushed and nodded right before going into the house. I just nodded back in response. The two guys were quiet, until they heard Marilyn's bedroom door close. Then they started chuckling, mocking me. "She likes you, Adam. Did you see how she looked at you and blushed the entire day? You better be careful, now," said George. If only you knew she wasn't blushing for me. I completely understood why she kept checking my every move. She was watching my behavior around Sylvia like I was some kind of thief eyeing her property. I didn't know how to process it. I've never had a woman as a rival before. And I wasn't even sure if I liked Sylvia enough to actually pursue her and compete with Marilyn who kind of had the upper hand, given that she knew her first. She has a crush on Sylvia and is probably even in love with her, so does that mean Sylvia could have lesbian tendencies? Bisexual, maybe? Does that leave me out of the picture? My thoughts got cut off when George and Peter suddenly laughed out loud. I realized they had been talking and I completely spaced out. We spent another hour drinking and conversing before I remembered to check the time. 11:14. Shit, it's late. The guys were discussing the unusual yield of oranges and I waited for them to pause so I could tell them I'd have to get going. I had to wait until 11:30. I told George I'd be going and he nodded, saying, "Sorry if we kept you out too late, my boy. You should come back anytime you want." I noticed that as he got drunker he started extending specific words (like anytime became aaanytiiime) and he stopped calling me "son" and instead used "my boy" to get my attention. I said, "No problem. Mind if I used your restroom first?" George was slurring now. "Go ahead, go ahead." And he gestured clumsily towards the door. I figured I should wash my face before leaving and wake myself up a little so I won't doze off on the commute home. As I got out of the bathroom, I passed by the dining room table and noticed something familiar on one of the chairs. It was Sylvia's blue sweater. No, wait. Is it a jacket? No, a jacket's too big. But this is too thin for a sweater. I gave up trying to figure out what it was exactly, decided to hand it back to her personally so I'd have a reason to come see her and headed out the door and said goodbye to the two drunk men on the porch. They didn't even notice how I slung a woman's jacket-sweater-thing on my shoulder as I walked, even when they patted me on the back.
I was lucky that the farm wasn't too far from the main road. I walked for a few minutes to reach the highway and only waited about 10 minutes before I got a cab. I told the driver where I lived and he turned up the radio as he drove towards Central. I knew then that the song playing was at the chorus part because the lead vocalist just finished singing the word "wonderwall" and I thought, oh yeah, that's the title isn't it? Then the word "maybe" echoed in singsong. Halfway through the route I suddenly caught the smell of oranges. I lifted my shirt collar to my nose to check if the scent came from me but it didn't smell like anything. I caught the driver glancing at me through the rearview mirror. When he saw my reflection looking at him, he said, "Sir, would you mind giving me those orange peels on the backseat? I'd like to use it as a car freshener, if that's okay." I quickly checked my seat and found orange peels scattered all over. I leaned forward to pick up the ones that managed to roll around my feet when I felt some more of them gliding down my back. I turned my head to see where they came from and I saw the blue sweater-thing's pockets had a few more orange peels stuffed inside. "Yeah, you can have them," I said, handing over the peels to the driver. He thanked me and looked straight ahead. I removed the sweater-thing from my shoulder and placed it on my lap, peeking inside the pockets to make sure I got all the stuff out. This is ridiculously soft. I wondered at what kind of clothing I had in my hands. I sniffed it. Oranges. And. Something floral. I quickly brushed off the thought as I noticed the cab turn towards my street. "Just drive straight ahead, fifth house on the right," I told the driver. He pulled up right in front of my apartment, I paid my fare plus a hefty tip, said thanks and got out as the driver thanked me back.
I took a quick shower, dressed comfortably for bed and checked the time. 12:07. I forgot all about the blue sweater-thing until I noticed how I'd left it on the bed before I got in the bathroom. What do you do with this? Do I wash it or leave it be? I checked the collar for a tag with washing instructions but found none. I've never had anything a woman left behind for me to think about before so I felt a little confused. Then I realized I had no floral scented soaps, only strong detergents, so I decided to leave it be. I put the sweater-thing on top of the bedside table, determined I'd go to Sylvia's house first thing in the morning and switched the lights off.
∞∞∞
"But why in the world would Marilyn tell you that she... has feelings for me?" Sylvia asked as she looked at me doubtfully, then her expression morphed into something I've never seen before. Something that scared me a little bit, as much as I didn't want to admit it. I wondered if she always looked like that when she's confused or upset. I had to calm myself and think about how I can avoid having to admit how I felt about her. Shit, I can't give myself away now. "Well, I just told her that I wanted to be friends with you. And she got all protective. And I told her it was good that she was looking out for you. And then she just said something about you choosing her over... other guys. I don't exactly remember how she said it. But... it wasn't just choosing her over other guys as friends. She said something... I'm sure she meant something more than that." Damn! What DID she say that made me think it was something more? Why can't I remember? Sylvia must think I'm an imbecile. I looked at her and waited for a reaction, but she was staring at her tea cup silently, stroking the handle. I wanted to say something, or take back what I said, but I didn't have the words. She finally broke the silence. "Well... I'm not sure how to take this. But I'm sure of two things. First, if she really did have feelings for me, then I guess that would just be her childish... respect for me. And I should only be worried if it escalated to a level that would do her no good. So... until then, I should just let her be and not let this information ruin our friendship." Sylvia looked at me questioningly, although I didn't understand what she was expecting from me. I said nothing. She continued. "And then, secondly... I guess if maybe this was all a misunderstanding then, nothing changes." I never saw it that way. Is this how women think? "I guess you're right," I said, just to agree to her wisdom. I panicked. I never should have said anything. "Sylvia, I'm sorry if what I said bothered you. Maybe you're right. Maybe I misunderstood. I mean, we all got a little buzzed that night. I just don't want to cause you or Marilyn any sort of trouble." She smiled at me kindly and said, "No, you don't have to apologize. I mean, if it were true, then it wouldn't help if I kept leading her on, right?" She waited for my approval and I was more than happy to satisfy her. That means she doesn't like her back! Feeling victorious, I wanted to pump my fist in the air like I just ran eight laps and broke through the finish line ribbon. "Right. That makes a lot of sense. Marilyn told me you were smart, and she wasn't wrong." I could see she was flattered. "Thank you." She said. "For the compliment and for telling me about this."
I gazed at her in wonderment. The split-second memory of overwhelming joy on her face kept coming back to me in slow motion. In the middle of all that rain, the wind blowing hard against us, cold and damp in that grey void with the jagged sand on our skin, she shone like the sun. You said it wouldn't rain, she said, smiling perfectly at my unworthy self, saying my name. This woman, so beautifully unusual, soft-spoken and yet foul-mouthed, wary but bold, pale and colorful all at once. I ached to step inside her mind, to feel what she felt, see the world through her eyes. And I wondered, without malice, what she'd feel like if I touched her, if she'd still smell of springtime and oranges, if she'd even let me breathe her in. I wondered like a child seeing yellow and blue paint turn bright green for the first time. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew... I knew.
∞∞∞
"You don't have to thank me, Sylvia," Adam replied. "I just hope I helped rather than... cause any issues." I could hear the worry in his voice so I reassured him everything was okay and that I had to know this stuff so I wouldn't act carelessly around Marilyn. "Because I don't want to hurt anybody," I told him. He just smiled coyly and I smiled back. We fell silent for a while and he never left my gaze so I looked out the window. Then I remembered the fortuneteller's words.
"A woman in love, but it's not you. You will find out about her. All I know is that you cannot help her..."
I hadn't even noticed until then that the rain had stopped and the clouds were thinner, letting more sunlight trickle down onto the garden. I thought I could change the subject. "Hey, look. The weather's better. I think we came to the beach too early," I chuckled. "No, I think our timing was perfect," Adam said. He was looking out the window into the garden so I couldn't read his expression. What does he mean by that? And why do I feel like something's off? Aside from the change in atmosphere, I had a lot of other things bothering me. I wondered why he decided to tell me about Marilyn. Did Marilyn ask for his help? Is he trying to help her? Because... why else would he tell me? I struggled to figure it out but I just ended up more confused. If he's trying to help her, then... Suddenly I felt as if my heart turned to solid marble and with a heavy thud dropped to the floor. What...? I didn't understand what was happening to me. If he's trying to help her, then he... doesn't... It felt like my chest was about to burst. He... doesn't... I was mad at myself for not finding the words. I was mad at Adam. I'm mad... because, he... Then I realized I didn't know what I was mad at him for. I thought he... I think I... Good God, am I going insane!? I figured I must have been shocked by the fact that 1) Marilyn was a lesbian (Never in a million years would I have guessed that on my own) and 2) A girl has a crush on me. Seriously? I sighed. Fuck you, universe! Sure, I felt a little lonely, but COME ON! I was sure I'd never go for women. Ever. Not that there was anything wrong with it. Of course I totally respect it. I watch Ellen all the time and I fucking love her and I used to have a lesbian best friend in high school and I loved her and okay, I'll admit it, maybe I had a very brief summer love lesbian relationship once when I was in high school, but that was it. I can relate to any and all lesbians, sure, as a friend, relative, neighbor, anything. Anything else but a lover.
Lover...
The word lingered in my mind and I contemplated on its letters, the sound one makes when saying it, how delicate the letter L was and how resolute the letter V looked right in the middle. I glanced at Adam but quickly turned my gaze away only to end up looking back at him when he spoke. "You okay?" Adam asked, interrupting my thoughts. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, must be a little tired after all that... swimming." Drowning in confusion, actually. We chuckled at the same time. "Hey," he said softly, "I'm sorry for staying this late. Maybe I better head home." No, don't go. "Um... okay," I said, completely at war with myself. "You must be exhausted especially after last night. And you hadn't slept long enough this morning, too. But... I really don't mind the company. Just so we're clear, I'm not kicking you out." Adam smiled as he got up from the dining seat. I followed and we headed for the front door. "Don't miss me too much," he said sarcastically and I glared at him. We said goodbye and I closed the door gently. I stood there staring at the blue painted wood and realized I was holding my breath. I inhaled deeply like I was about to dive underwater and exhaled slowly. And then I felt it again, that unusual wave from the pit of my stomach rising to my chest. I never got to drink wine or coffee all day, so I had nothing to blame, but that didn't help me understand it either. I felt like I was about to explode, that I needed to let off a little steam. I decided to try and write and get my mind off things so I went up to the bedroom and reviewed my manuscript, thinking of what would go well into the collection. I got a sheet of paper and a pen and searched my emotions for inspiration. What should I write about? What words translate my current state of mind? I asked myself these questions over and over again. I want... myself... I want my portrait expressed in language. Paint me into a poem. I commanded the pen in my hand. And I remembered the smell of the sea, the cold wind, the needles of rain pricking my skin, the sand in my hands. And then... I knew.
Be still, with me
In this passing moment
Never mind the raging sea
Stand fast against the current
I'm here, use me
Take my hands like roots covet the ground
Consume my gaze
In our world there is no sound
But the silence swelling
Of our hearts about to burst
Of our eyes weeping with calm ecstasy
In our world we never thirst
You are a blanket on my skin
I am no longer cold
Stay like this, forget everything
Be still with me until the heavens fold