Chapter 17: Fight

Chapter 17

Fight

“One-point-seven million dollars,” brunette Holly exclaimed at our celebratory dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse. I had to admit, I was a little excited, myself. “What are you going to do?”

“Marry some floozy,” I joked, “spend it all in Vegas.”

“Are you going to go back to work?”

“Yeah,” I sipped my red wine. The asparagus arrived. In between bites, I said, “buy a car, buy a house, put Trout through college. Travel.” I finished my asparagus. “It'll be nice to have that cushion again. I went from being able to rely on two incomes to having no income in a split-second.”

“I've worried about that.”

“I get California State Disability, plus I got twenty thousand dollars from Naomi's life insurance, through her employer. It was good enough to live off for a semester.” Holly and I had never talked finances before. I'd assumed she was wealthy based on her Lexus and her Mission Valley home, not to mention the Oxford education and the money she'd spent pampering me.

Our steaks came. The waiter warned us that they were cooked in an 800-degree oven, and that we needed to hold up napkins to protect ourselves from the sizzle. We ate in silence, and the whole room seemed to condense on me. It became a surreal moment. I was worried about having another flashback, but it was just the perfect combination of the steak, the wine, and the shoestring potatoes. I almost forgot Holly. I almost forgot Naomi. It came back to me, life came back to me. I'd just faded out for a second.

“I'm not used to food this good,” I said.

“Nobody is,” she smiled.

We'd shared a bottle of wine, but once you lose a loved one to drunk driving, you don't take chances. I suggested we take the Trolley to her house, but she insisted we take a taxi. Blonde Holly was waiting for us.

“Trout's asleep,” she whispered as we came in. Brunette Holly handed her an envelope, presumably full of babysitting money. She left, and we went inside. Brunette Holly led me up to her bedroom, where she changed out of her evening gown and into her pajamas. After she had them on, she took off her bra and handed me a pair of the pajamas I kept at her house. I changed into them. She drew back the covers of the bed, and we got inside.

“I want to cuddle,” she said. This isn't unusual, as many asexual people like to do so. “Mike, you've made me really happy. You've been accepting of me, and you've never pushed my boundaries. Do you want that threesome with Maria? I can make it happen.”

“There's an unclear antecedent in there somewhere,” I joked.

“Yes, yes, I mean, you, Maria, and someone else.” She squeezed her eyes and laughed. I joined her. “I feel a little ridiculous.” Her leg brushed against my crotch, perhaps accidentally. I wasn't erect in the slightest somehow, just tired. “What's your pain level?”

“A two or a three,” I said, referring to slight pain in my leg and the foot that wasn't there.

“I searched your apartment and went through your computer,” she admitted. “I was worried you were using again.”

“I know.”

“Also, 'trout' plus his birth date isn't a very safe password.”

“You got into my special folder?”

“Yeah. Holly showed me the pictures of you and Maria, but I also read your correspondence with Holly.”

“Are you jealous?”

“A little. She's younger, she's prettier, she's taller, she's more able to please you sexually.”

“She's damaged.”

“So am I, Mike.” She began to cry. “I hate being this way.”

“You know she's just kidding when she says we'll get married some day.”

“Are you sure she is? I looked up that second husband of hers, Trent. Did you know that he's filed for an annulment? Based on there being no consummation of the marriage?”

“No, I didn't know that.”

“And now you, with your one-point-seven million dollars. You could ride off into the sunset with her, maybe have more kids.”

“I think you're...”

“Don't you fucking dare say that I'm taking this too seriously! This is my life. I'm forty-three, I can't fuck, what kind of man would want me the way you have? What kind of man would do what you do for me?”

“I don't love her that way.”

“You may not, but she sure loves you. What do you want, do you want both of us? Is that what you want? You know her father had three wives, and I know she'd be into it.”

“What do you want,” I asked, finally.

“I don't want her sneaking into our lives that way. I don't want to wake up one morning at age fifty to make coffee like an obedient servant while you two fool around.”

“I wouldn't want that, either,” I said, thinking of the play No Exit. “What's the difference between Holly and someone like Maria?”

“Maria has several partners, and she will as long as her looks hold out. I,” she sighed, “I don't mind if you sleep with women who have multiple partners. I like it. I like arranging your little rendezvous with them. I live vicariously through them, through you.”

“Hey,” I said, caressing her face, kissing her for a brief second. “Why don't we just do what we came here to do?” She rolled on her side, facing away from me, lifting her head up so that I could put my arm under her neck. I put my other arm around her, and we fell asleep, or at least I did.