Let Us Eat Cake (4 page)

Finally he took my hand and walked me to my door.

“Rachel.”

“Yes?”

“I like saying your name.”

I chuckled. Beneath his cool exterior there was a dorky sincerity that betrayed him. The problem for me in that moment was that I could fall for someone like him. In high school, it had been easy to write him off as a bit of a nerd. At the grocery store and earlier that evening, I could have written him off as a hottie, but it was clear there was much more to Jeff. I couldn’t help but feel nervous at how much there was to find out.

“I’ll see you on Friday.”

“You will indeed,” I said.

I slipped inside, back into my old world where things were as they always had been—a relief that followed the fantastical evening. Kicking off my shoes at the door then flinging my coat over the chair at our kitchen table, I proceeded to the living room where I flopped down on our old comfy couch.

Savannah had left the reading lamp on for me. She was so thoughtful that way. I picked up a book of hers that was spread out. She didn’t believe in bookmarks, so every pile of books had at least one, usually on top, that was spread open to a certain page. I read at random, trying to get my mind off the past few hours. I’d read a whole paragraph when I realized I had no idea what the words said.
Earth to Rachel
.
Can you hear me, Rachel?
I imagined a voice calling out to where I was in outer space.

Mentally, I was reliving the evening and imagining what could happen between Jeff and me if I didn’t censor myself. If I let my fantasies out, would I unleash the evils of Pandora’s Box? I remembered the times I’d had the urge to tell lovers that what I really wanted was to be tied up—or blindfolded or spanked or dominated. I could never bring myself to speak up about it. I played each detail of the night with Jeff over again. As arrogant as it seemed to me when he declared it, I had to admit that he did know me. He saw right into me, into the compartments I tried to keep under lock and key. He had already opened the box, I realized. That was what terrified me. There was no way to contain the feelings I had.

I went through my evening ritual of stripping off my makeup—cleansing, toning, moisturizing and all that. Even as I drifted off to sleep, all I could do was replay our dialogue, remember the impact of Jeff’s gaze and the way he kissed.

* * * *

The days were long that week. My life at college seemed monotonous and boring. No professors were able to keep my attention. Everything I looked up at the library reminded me of Jeff. Writing papers was impossible. Instead of focusing, I went shopping for nail polish and lipstick. I had not bought myself stuff like that since the semester began. I’d had no time to indulge the girly part of life and was down to my last few bobby pins and the tiniest dollop of tinted lip gloss.

At the drug store, each item was an invitation to think of Jeff. Body creams called me to question what kind of scent he would like. Lipstick made me think of kissing him. I even opted to get one of the kind that lasts for twelve hours and doesn’t rub off.

All told, I wandered the aisles in a daze for about an hour and finally brought my basket of goodies up to the counter. I ended up slapping all of it on my credit card, which still had a tiny bit of space left after charging all my textbooks. How I’d pay it off would have to be solved another day. For now, I wanted fabulousness. I wanted to usher in a new phase, a new look.

When Savannah saw me later with my loot bag, she knew something was up.

“You’ve got it bad, eh?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, skirting her question. We were in the kitchen. She at the table, me at the counter, chopping kale to go with the brown rice I was boiling. I had a peanut satay sauce that would complete the dish beautifully.

“All this.” She gestured at the drug store bag. “You can’t fool me.”

“He’s as cute as he was in high school,” I said, not even trying to disguise it.

“And he was just at the grocery store? That’s so weird. I’m gonna have to try going there more… Not in my sweatpants, though.”

I laughed.

“What are you going to wear?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe this?” I looked down. I had not bought new clothes in a while and there hadn’t been enough room on the credit card to consider it.

She shrugged. “Meh. Not that it isn’t fine to wear a washed-out black shirt and jeans, but you really like this guy, right?”

I turned to her and nodded.

“Then I’m thinking don’t wear that. I’ve got something. It’s loose on me, so it’ll probably fit you.”

Oh the unfairness of having a roommate with good taste and a tiny frame. I was skeptical that anything she owned could fit me. But she returned with a super cute dress I’d never even seen.

“How long have you had that?” I asked, touching the silky soft floral fabric.

“My sister gave it to me in the summer. It was hers but she didn’t want it anymore. I’ve never even worn it. It’s not really my style.”

“I love it.”

“It’s yours.”

“Really?”

“Sure. You always cook for us. It’s the least I can do to sometimes give you stuff.”

She was right that I did feed her a lot more than she fed me. She was pretty hopeless in the kitchen and would undoubtedly live on canned soup and apples if it weren’t for me.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem,” she said, getting a playful look in her eyes. “Actually, what are you going to do fragrance-wise?”

“I bought some lavender-scented lotion.”

“Okay, grandma. Good luck with that.”

“What?” What could possibly be wrong with lavender? I liked it.

“I can help you in that department, too.”

“Really?”

“Sure,” she said. “Come with me.”

I turned the rice down to a low simmer and followed her to her room. We tended to stay out of each other’s private spaces so I had not been in her room in months. And I had never looked in her top drawer, but when she pulled it open, there were probably a dozen perfumes hidden there and not the drug store kind either. They all had designer labels.

“Where’d you get all this?” I asked. I thought she was poor like me.

“My dad. They’re all gifts from him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I know. I know. We children of divorce are the luckiest. You’ve no idea what a little guilt will do. That’s why I was able to go to Mexico last year.”

“I always thought that was an exchange program.”

“Nope. Margaritas on the beach with good ol’ dad.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, so anyway. Choose your scent.”

I lifted each bottle and inhaled. No wonder Savannah always smelled so good. This stuff was divine.

“Mmm,” I said. “This one.”

It was called Shalini. I dabbed a drop behind each ear. Savannah came near me and sniffed.

“To die for,” she said. “Wear it on your date.”

Despite the fact that I lived in a dingy little shared apartment on a student budget with a maxed out card, I was rich. This was as close to understanding Cinderella as I’d probably ever come.

Chapter Four

In lectures on nomadic peoples, I found myself projecting Jeff and me into the landscape, picturing him tossing me over his shoulder and taking me right there on the plains of the Serengeti. The primal energy between us was perfect. Seven years earlier, I’d wanted him. Six months prior, I’d basically decided that relationships were for chumps and that I was only going to have wild and meaningless rabbit sex from then on. Once school started, I didn’t have time to go to bars or hook up with guys online, so seeing Jeff again was kismet. He seemed like he wanted the exact kind of arrangement I’d dreamed of.

I thought of him day and night, imagining what he wanted us to do together. I pictured him exerting his natural dominance and I felt ready to meet the part of myself that I was convinced he could bring out.

By Friday, I’d done my whole at-home spa ritual several times over. Exfoliation and moisturizing had made me feel like a new person.

When the promised moment arrived, he knocked at the door. Savannah answered. I was still in my room adjusting my nylons.

“Your date is here,” she called.

“Okay.”

I neared the kitchen dressed in Savannah’s pretty dress, my makeup all done as perfectly as I could muster, with a dab of Shalini behind each ear. I was terrified for a moment that I’d built up too many expectations, that Jeff was actually far plainer than I’d remembered him these past few days.

But no. My pulse coursed as our eyes met. There he stood, as handsome as ever, holding a bouquet of flowers. I went to him, hoping for a kiss, but he gave me a peck on the cheek instead. I couldn’t blame him. He didn’t know my lipstick was the long-lasting kind.

“For you,” he said, passing me the flowers.

“Thank you so much,” I said. Then I panicked. I called to Savannah, who’d gone to the living room. “Uh, do we have anything that’ll function for a vase?”

“Us? Here?” She came into the kitchen, laughing. “Maybe a teapot?”

I scrunched up my face. Oh, to be the girl who could receive flowers with grace and elegance, as though they were a regular occurrence. As it was, it was clear that flowers were not a part of my reality.

“I’m sorry,” Jeff said. “I guess I should have thought of that.”

“What about this?” Savannah hauled a glass jug out of the hall closet. It wasn’t exactly nice. I think it was here when we moved in.

“I guess,” I said.

“Why don’t you two get out of here and I’ll arrange the flowers for you?”

I looked at Jeff. He seemed eager to go. “Sure. Thanks.”

“Do you have your jacket?” Jeff asked.

I only had a parka. It threw off the whole look I was going for, but what could I do? It was mid-winter in Michigan. I grabbed it off the coat rack. Jeff took it from me.

“This should keep you warm,” Jeff said. I wondered if he thought it was hideous and dumpy. It was. I just hoped he wouldn’t judge me for it. He held it open for me and I slid my right arm into the sleeve first, then the left.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep.” I turned the doorknob. Even through my thick parka, I could feel his hand in the small of my back. It was protective and secure.

As we walked toward the car, he put my arm through his. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said.

I smiled. “Thank you. I have been looking forward to this.”

“Me too.” He flashed a grin. In that moment, he didn’t scare me. He actually seemed vulnerable, as though he, too, was the same guy he used to be.

“So what are we doing?” I asked.

“Well, you said to surprise you, so that’s what we’re doing.”

“Sounds ominous.” I was being sarcastic again. I was ready to make jokes to avoid the complexity of my nerves after a long week of anticipation.

“I hope not.”

He opened the passenger side door for me. I slipped into the sleek car and breathed in the new car scent. I guessed I hadn’t noticed last time since I’d been so nervous and distracted, but it was really nice. Between this, Jeff’s apartment and his clothes, it was obvious he did really well for himself. It gave me pause, thinking back to how our high school was also divided along a socio-economic class line. He and I grew up on opposite sides of the tracks. It had me wondering what a poet-slash-registrar-clerk-slash-student could offer him now.

He sat down and buckled up, then turned to me and said, “You were on my mind all week.”

“Was I?” I batted my lashes. I couldn’t help it. He’d given me the perfect set-up to do something kind of cheesy.

“You know you were.” He lowered his voice and there was that seriousness again. I was instantly affected. The butterflies that were already in my tummy fluttered as though trying to adapt to a strong gale.

We were on the road, turning onto the main thoroughfare, and whooshing past the familiar places where I normally walked. The world was going by quickly and before I knew it, we were in a part of town I never came to. Jeff pulled into a parking garage, circled a couple of levels and finally found a spot amid the concrete blockades and deluxe vehicles.

Gentlemanly as he was, Jeff took me by the arm and led me to the elevator, then out to the street. We turned left and walked a few paces down the cobblestone sidewalks. This was the old warehouse district, which was now quite posh with many upscale restaurants and designer shops.

“Here we are,” Jeff said, guiding me through a heavy wooden door to a dark little café where the tables were all secluded and dimly lit by tiny bulbs suspended from the high ceilings. We were seated near the back. The server put a candle on our table and offered menus. Jeff told him there was no need.

“You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” he asked quietly.

“No.”

He turned to the server. “We’ll have the noshes for sharing and a bottle of your best malbec.”

“Great,” the young man said then walked off.

I wrestled with my parka, trying to subtly shirk it off. Jeff helped and finally I managed to untangle myself from the blanket-like overcoat that
so
did not fit the stylish eatery.

“Do you come here a lot?” I asked. I wanted to pry, convinced that a guy like Jeff had his moves and probably had a lot of women to use them on.

“I do,” he said in a matter-of-fact way.

“I see,” I said, looking down. I took a sip of water from one of the two Mason jars on the table. There it was. The truth. He had a lot of options when it came to women.

“Rachel?” he asked. There was alarm in his voice.

I looked at him. Could he tell I was insecure? It felt like he could see into the depths of my being. “Yeah?”

“I haven’t dated in a while if that’s what you mean.” His tone was flat once again, as though he was simply stating facts.

“Oh,” I said, appeased. “That wasn’t what I meant.” But it totally was.

“Great place, huh?” Jeff said, taking a sip of water while looking around. It was as though he wanted to change the mood, like he knew that I was scared of being there with him.

“Why haven’t you dated anyone lately?” I blurted.