How to Avoid Sex (6 page)

As first light began to paint the city around me, I felt a sense of peace. Every person and thing possessed a quiet type of beauty I had never seen before. Within the chaos resided an order. Within the order resided hope. Understanding that I was getting a little ahead of myself, with Windsor in my life, it was as if I had finally found my order among the chaos. Was it possible for love to grow from something so small? I always assumed love at first sight was a fantasy created by Bolivian soap dramas.

I continued my patient wait, ignoring the increasing hunger and simply allowing time to unfold at the pace it deemed suitable. I surveyed the surrounding area, hoping I might see Windsor, having arrived too early and waiting from his own vantage point. If he was here, he was well hidden. It was more likely that he wasn’t here, which although expected, was mildly disappointing.

At around noon I started to become agitated. The inner peace of the morning was giving way to the collective malaise of humanity crammed together in the city. Passing birds were making a habit of dropping stolen bracelets on me. On several occasions, this was followed by the distressed owner of a bracelet spotting me with it in my possession. They approached with murderous anger in their eyes and it was difficult to convince them that I was not the thief. One woman even made a point of seeking assistance from a policeman, but luckily for me, it was the same policeman I admitted my gibbon murder to, and he was unable to take me seriously. At 4pm, I erected netting to prevent the bracelets from falling into my unwitting possession and made a mental note to start disliking birds.

My hunger was starting to get the better of me and rather than wait for dinner, I thought it wise to seek out some food. It wouldn’t have been socially decent to appear unseemly by gorging myself at the dinner table. I flagged down a vendor selling deep fried moss jelly and ordered two blocks. I guided the quivering mess into my mouth, trying to protect the cleanliness of my suit. I was heartened when an elderly lady, seeing my predicament, offered to help feed me. I accepted this act of goodwill and managed to consume the moss jelly without further issue. I tipped my hat toward her in thanks and she raised her skirt to me in deviance. I grimaced and averted my gaze.

When 8pm finally arrived, I arose from my seat and felt the bones in my body crack like heating ice. I stretched until my stagnated body loosened up and made a shaky path to the entrance of Angina. It was precisely 8pm when a disinterested-looking gentleman manning a reservation book asked if I needed assistance. Up until this moment it had never crossed my mind that Windsor may never show up. Perhaps he didn’t even make the reservation. I was so utterly involved in my own whimsy that I never stopped to think about the other party. What if, after reflection, he had decided this wasn’t what he wanted? He never sought out my contact details, so there would have been no way to notify me.

My voice broke as I said, “Table for two, under the name… ‘Windsor’.

The disinterested gentleman glanced down at the reservation book, making a point to take his time. I felt nauseous with worry. I wanted to turn around and walk away – avoid any potential embarrassment.

“Right this way, sir,” said the gentleman.

He began to walk into the body of the restaurant. The relief that swarmed every part of me made it difficult to walk. That was one victory, now I just needed Windsor to show up.

CHAPTER 8

‘Angina’ was a buzzing restaurant populated by a trendy crowd of vacuity. I usually made a habit of avoiding restaurants because they tend to attract the sort of people who go to restaurants. Theirs wasn’t a true concern with gastronomy. This was merely an expression of that strange communal tendency to eat food around other people eating food. I hoped that Windsor would be waiting for me when I arrived, but the table I was led to made a point of being empty. A single tea light sat at the table’s centre, casting restless shadows. I took a seat, placed my hat and tried not to squirm as a cloth napkin was folded and placed on my lap – an activity that struck me as vulgar.

Although only by a minute, 8pm had been and gone, and I was growing worried. I stared at the empty seat across from me, willing the arrival of Windsor. A basket of petrified lark was placed before me, which I picked at, more to keep myself occupied than anything. The moss jelly had already sated my appetite. By 8:05 I was wondering if I should admit defeat and leave and by 8:10 I decided to wait no longer. I stood up in a huff and reached for my hat. Before I could walk away, a hurried waiter bounded toward my table with a chair held aloft. It was Windsor!

The waiter balanced Windsor precariously on the chair before me and apologised to us both. I waited for her to walk away before sitting once more.

“I’m so sorry. Montgomery,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe the commotion.”

“What happened?”

“They weren’t going to let me in.”

I was a mixture of emotions. One the one hand, I was enraged on behalf of Windsor. Surely there was prejudice afoot on behalf of the restaurant. On the other hand, I was relieved that I hadn’t been stood up and that any lateness on Windsor’s part could be attributed to events outside his control.

“I’m so sorry, Windsor. How could this happen? Haven’t you been to this restaurant before?”

“It’s a common occurrence, I’m afraid. As a chair, one becomes accustomed to certain discriminations. I’m not what one would call a regular, but I have been here before. The gentleman at the door was a stranger to me, however.”

“It’s a sorry world we live in, that much I know for sure.”

“It’s okay,” he said with positivity. “All that matters is I’m here now and so are you. How are you? I’ve been looking forward to this all week. I was growing quite impatient. I hope that doesn’t make me sound desperate.”

I chuckled and assured Windsor it was fine. I didn’t make mention of my own impatience. This gave me an upper hand, which helped ease my nervousness. Windsor looked delightful amidst the dancing light of the tea candle. His varnished surface appeared even richer.

“Does it feel strange to be seated on another chair?” I asked.

Windsor shuffled about while considering my question. “No… I wouldn’t say that. Chairs are often stacked, and this isn’t much different. If anything, I feel a little sorry for the chair beneath me. I’m not as light as I used to be.”

We both chuckled. I was nice to break the ice in such a way. The toilet block encounter was one filled with uncertainty and shame. This evening felt like the true beginning of something special. We both studied our menus and discussed the merits of certain choices.

“Do you eat, Windsor?” I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask.

Windsor chuckled in that robotic way of his. “Yes… I do eat, but it isn’t a necessity. It’s more a way to uphold certain social standards. One should never refuse food if it is prepared for you.”

I nodded my approval. “Thanks for your candour. This is a new experience for me, I must admit, I have a lot of questions.”

“Perfectly understandable. How about we settle in for a nice meal and afterward, I’ll answer any questions you care to ask?”

I nodded once more. It was difficult to stifle the smile on my face. Windsor was a miraculous companion by any standard. We ordered our respective meals and engaged in beguiling small talk while we waited for our food to arrive. I was complimented more than once on my suit, and I made a point of complimenting Windsor on his sheen. I hadn’t felt this free for as long as I could remember. My words flowed easily and every utterance from Windsor was fascinating. Even in the murky waters of small talk, he possessed complete profundity. I was able to forget about the people around me and lose myself in moment.

I was quietly excited when our meals arrived because it would allow me an inadvertent chance to quench a curiosity I had. Namely, if Windsor was capable of eating, how did he manage such a task? He was a solid object without an obvious mouth, nor did he possess a means of moving food to whatever mouth may have existed. I was keen to know more about Windsor’s ways and not having to directly ask was preferable means of doing so.

“Sorry to do this to you, Montgomery,” said Windsor as his meal sat before him. “I have to ask you turn away while I eat. It’s nothing personal, I’m simply incapable of eating while being watched.”

I nodded with understanding, but was admittedly a little disappointed. I just had to remind myself that this didn’t alter the connection I believed existed between the two of us.

“I sense disappointment in your eyes,” he said. “Please believe me, Montgomery. It’s not that I wish to keep this part of myself hidden from you… it’s a physiological thing. I am literally incapable of eating while being watched. Eating requires that I perform several impossible actions, and impossibility cannot be perceived.”

I let his words sink in. In a strange way I understood what he was saying, but it raised some further questions.

“I accept this, Windsor, and although I admit to being intrigued, I certainly understand where you’re coming from. But I do have to ask… if, as you say, impossibility cannot be perceived, how is it that you can talk and move before my eyes?”

“Ah, Montgomery! There’s an important distinction that needs to be made here. Impossibility cannot be perceived, but improbability can.”

I nodded, pretending to comprehend the distinction. When it came down to it, I knew very little about the life of chairs. I decided that I would happily oblige by any considerations that Windsor required. There was no point letting something, which couldn’t be helped come between us.

While we ate, I made a point of turning my head every thirty seconds or so to allow my date a chance to enjoy his food. With my head turned, I could hear borborygmus rumbling from within him. He was digesting something alright… but how this was occurring would remain a mystery. Each time I turned back around, Windsor would thank me for my courtesy.

We luxuriated in the slow consumption of our meals in an effort to extend our time together. The thought that, at some point, Windsor and I would have to part ways was an ugly one that I tried to kill with the beauty of our continued togetherness. Eventually it became impossible to ignore that the restaurant was emptying. There was a pronounced sadness moving between Windsor and I that neither of us could ignore.

“I have a proposal for you, Montgomery, but I’m wary of applying pressure and want very much to avoid that.”

I stared at Windsor, preparing to embrace any suggestion that might end this sadness. “I’m listening.”

“I know that you and I have discussed moving slowly, so I hope this doesn’t sound insensitive to that intention… it’s just… I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in as long as I can remember, and I don’t want this night to end. Would you be open to the idea of coming back to my place?”

I had been hoping and dreading this invitation all evening. Had I possessed the gumption, I might have made the offer myself. I knew there was a strong chance that accepting Windsor’s offer might result in something I wasn’t comfortable with. Windsor was going to proposition me for sex, I was quite sure. The only thing that stopped me from flipping over the table and running away was the knowledge that for Windsor, sex was merely sitting. The question I had to ask myself was this – would I be prepared to sit on Windsor for the reasons he wanted? If I sat down on Windsor, would I be engaging in sex myself, or merely facilitating sex for him? I had to reconcile within myself the reality that going back with Windsor would require that I confront these issues. Being with Windsor filled me with such profound happiness that I was willing to explore these uncomfortable places. He deserved to feel happy and satisfied. I wanted to be the person responsible for this.

I looked at Windsor and said, “I accept your kind invitation.”

CHAPTER 9

Windsor insisted we travel to his home by horse-drawn carriage. I appreciated the romantic air of whimsy this mode of transport instilled in me. The crisp city air helped soothe my nerves, which as you can appreciate, were in danger of becoming unworkable. It was a short trip to Windsor’s home. He lived just outside the central business district in an upmarket apartment complex. When we stopped, I helped him out of the carriage, which gave me another opportunity to feel the superior workmanship of his wood.

“Follow me,” he said. “I’m on the 18th floor.”

I glanced up once more at his apartment complex. It didn’t look like it could possibly extend beyond ten floors.

“How is it possible you live on a floor that doesn’t appear to exist?” I asked.

“I could never afford to pay rent on a floor that existed,” was his simple reply.

He scraped forward and I followed close behind. We approached an elevator and Windsor asked me to turn my head so he could perform the impossible task of pressing the buttons. Remembering the promise I made to myself, I obliged without hesitation and remained this way until I heard the elevator door open. True to Windsor’s claim that the floor he lived on didn’t exist, there were no buttons for floors above nine. I was asked to turn my head once more and upon doing so, I heard a crashing sound followed by a wheeze. The elevator groaned to life and we shot upward. The lights illuminated the number for each floor as we ascended. When we reached and surpassed nine, the elevator filled with red smoke and turned in sickening circles. I fell against the wall, where the push of gravity ensured I remained until the doors finally opened with a foghorn announcement.