Return to juice (fiction)
When my sister accuses me of being complicated I reply that I am a simple person. Take my trip to Michigan as an example. Last year I had planned on meeting up with my friends for my birthday, but the way it worked out the weekend after was better for everyone. So I was hanging out with my friends, in the past I would have ordered a drink. Now alcohol is on my list of things I avoid. One of the guys standing next to me asked if I wanted something from the bar. When I told him I had packed my juicer for the weekend, I think he was surprised and possibly skeptical. Last summer we spent quite a bit of time together. I came home from that trip with a big question mark behind his name, unsure of how I felt about him or how he viewed me.
Our conversations were good, we had things to say, both deep and light. We talked and walked before heading our separate ways. As the day went on we kept running into each other. Accidents? Coincidences? Designed encounters? I had no idea but for me it was just the way things played out. The city is a dangerous place for me. I like hanging out there but I doubt I could actually live there. It seems like whenever I visit I end up pouring my heart out to people. Cool guys take this in stride and last year I was glad he was one of them. I hate it when people play games. I try not to, I try to take people for who and what they are because I am a simple person who wants human interactions to be uncomplicated. So we went out for fruit because he insisted there was no point in bringing a juicer on vacation if you didn't have fresh fruit to squeeze. I paid for my own groceries and added his smoothie onto my tab rather than listen to the pain of a broken twenty.
Back in my room he sat on the bed while I set up the juicer. For me, lasting atrraction is built on my interactions with another person. I've been in and out of bad relationships. You'd think I'd get tired of making the same mistakes or that I'd realize that men think differently about things than women. But it isn't always about sex or at least to me it doesn't have to be. I have a former friend who plays games with me. Part of me hates getting sucked into conversations with him. He's full of innuendo and I try not to let it get to me because if a guy treats you one way, he's treating others that way too. It's the way people are. No one who tells you a secret is keeping your secrets safe. But I still trust people because in my opinion, I don't have a thing to hide. Using my juicer broke the silence we had created. As a joke my friend on the bed held his ears as I dropped fruit into my machine.
When our fruit was a sweet smelling liquid I split my carafe with him. He pretends not to be a foodie but watching him relish his treat revealed his truth. He's a lot taller than I am when standing, but with him on the bed and me near the door I felt as if our playing field was more level. When I'm in a good mood I feel as if anything is possible and the world is a box of pearls I can string and match. Before his accident and my disease diagnosis we were different people. Younger, more carefree, able to take on things that were larger than us. After our juice was gone, I was nervous. He stood up and told me he had to get going. I nodded as I stepped away from the door, wishing he wouldn't leave me alone while remembering that the last conversation we had had had ended in an unpleasant disagreement.
His right hand rested on the doorknob while the left one raised my chin. We weren't in a relationship, we had never discussed it but from time to time he would say things that made me wonder. My friends knew we had left together but no one knew for sure that we were alone. In the back of my mind a voice was telling me that I could have my cake and consume it too. Did it really matter if I wasn't sure about my feelings? When he took his cell phone out of his pocket that left the doorknob free. So I stood in front of it. That was a silly move on my part, he's about a foot and a half taller than I am. He can lift me with one arm and I thought it was spicy sexy fun when he picked me up and dropped me on the bed. The text had been from his sister who wanted to know when he was going to meet her. His mouth tasted like fresh juice, around us citrus notes hung in the air making my trash can smell better than Sunny Delight.
Touching people is a way of life for me. On my birthday, I think he understood that sometimes the toucher needs to be touched. His chin was scratchy, his hand simultaneously soothing and fierce. After he left I had time to sit in the sauna and reflect on what had almost happened. Men who kiss well intrigue me as do those who know how to read my body language. Naturally I was curious about what our interlude had meant to him. A possible quickie before he went back to see his sister? Was I a toy he wanted to play with or did he feel something more when we shared that fruit flavored kiss? None of my questions were answered that night, I went home not knowing where we stood.
For better or for worse I recently celebrated another birthday. His card was cute, the message inside cryptic. On New Year's Eve I received a suprise kiss. He did something else too but I can't say for sure whether that was for me, because of me or had nothing to do with me at all. I dislike confusion and the insecurity that goes along with a conversation where people pretend that nothing has happened and nothing more will happen again while they are giving you signals that indicate otherwise. I could ask a straightforward question however I'd get one back from him without knowing exactly how to answer it. I like him, I want to be with him but his come here, go away attitude is uncool. Sometimes I ignore him like he ignores me but in the end, we always come back to each other which leaves me with even more questions. Answers during 2011 were not forthcoming which frustrates me even more.
The other night he sent me a text asking what my plans for the weekend were without revealing his. Now I'm sitting here, listening to Guns N' Roses wondering what my next move should be. Do I call him? Send him a reply text? Ignore the message he sent? Do something he wouldn't expect? Try and flirt back? Keep it cheerful and friendly? I feel somewhat better after talking to my sister, she kept telling me how I should have handled things last year. Regret is futile but I wish I would have listened to her advice when I was in my good mood and had my own hotel room. Now that I've made my decision to text him back my sister says I have to wait and see what he says, if anything, which will help me figure out what I should do next. He sent me an inquiring text so I owe him a reply back but nothing more. My sister said that should be easy enough for someone who likes to keep things simple.