“Sabine, this is Dr. Lee, the results of your sonogram came in…”

I patiently waited, not in any kind of angst, because I already knew what she was going to tell me. I could feel it inside of me: a hard circular mass protruding from my abdomen, slightly more towards the left.

I haven’t noticed it until the recent weeks and I knew it was time to see Dr. Lee…to confirm my suspicions — and she did.

***Now What to Do?***

It is a long weekend, and I called Jon on Monday afternoon whilst out with friends enjoying the festivities in Brooklyn. I reached Jon’s new apartment around sunset. He came out to meet me as I walked from the train station since I apparently sounded like I had one too many (which was only one) to drink.

This neighborhood is definitely an upgrade from his former bachelor pad. There are more family houses representing an old European tradition, and no buildings nearby. His, is a basement dwelling in the very last house of a dead end. Ironically, you could still see the above ground train go by – but from street level. A more industrial type community with warehouses and lots not too far down the main street; but on his corner, had a close knit homey feel.

“How you feelin’?” I asked.

“Not too bad, I just woke up…did some cocaine last night!” He gleamed.

………..UUuuuuhhhhh…..

“Oh, K. You hung over or something?” I asked. I mean it was around 6pm by now and he was only awake for a few hours?

But upon entering, I immediately noticed a dirty cheap mattress smack dab on the living room floor. It’s where he sleeps, and I could see some dirt and leaves on it…either from being drag from on top of a car or maybe because he doesn’t take off his shoes when entering the house. Straight ahead to the right was a small bathroom and an even tinier sink, which I assumed was there for novelty purposes and not for any functioning value. Pass this, you entered the kitchen and the door to the bedroom is on the left and at the end of the kitchen is the back door to the yard.

On a whole, it is smaller than the apartment he shared with Neil, but his room is bigger…at least to hold a full size bed, but not a queen size like he originally wanted. It is painted yellow and although he did not like the color, he is too lazy to change it, and too lazy to put his furniture together.

“Have you been sleeping on the floor all week?” I asked.

“Yeah, Neil took apart his bed and gave it to me and the mattress. He’s suppose to by later this week to help me put it together.” Jon responded.

So we bantered a bit….I told him about the festivities in Brooklyn, and he teased me for being too “drunk” and him having to come out and “save me”…I played right into it–until–I don’t know how it was brought up…I remember trying to be nice and friendly as I had been all weekend.

He took a few hits from his bong, he offered it to me but I turned it down. I went over and sat on the mattress on the floor.

And then it was brought up — maybe I said something or he did. It could have been a snide remark like, “See, we have nothing in common” or “Oh, at least when I get drunk, I remember the phone calls I make”  or maybe it was about sex, and I refused again to have relations with someone who had no intentions….”Its hypocritical for two people who are attracted to each other to not have sex…” He stated.

He was laying on the mattress and I was sitting at the edge of it. Maybe between his coke and the pot and my homemade moonshine (that someone made in their bathtub and sold on the street)…the lines of communication got jumbled.

“Look, I could have done a purely sexual thing, if you had told me on the first night that we met…but now I know you and it doesn’t—” I tried to explain.

“SO YOU WOULD HAVE FUCKED ME IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW ME?!?!” He yelled, face down into the pillow.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” I explained, it didn’t seem like he is understanding what I am trying to say.

“It would have been easier if you told me upfront….I would have probably agreed–” I continued.

“SO ALL THIS WORK….JUST SO WE COULD HAVE SEX AND NOW YOU WON’T HAVE SEX WITH ME?” He yelled, “YOU’RE DAMNED IF YOU DO! YOU’RE DAMNED IF YOU DON’T!” He’s getting upset and I don’t know why.

“What do you mean work?..I thought we were getting along and knowing each other…like when you came to that parade with me over the summer, and we walked and held hands to the bakery…and remember you gave me a ride home.”

“I WAS JUST USING YOU! I WAS DOING ALL THAT TO USE YOU! JUST FOR YOUR BODY” He exclaimed.

“You gave me a ride home just to use me for sex….hhhmmmmm” I thought.

“YOU WERE USING ME TOO!” He countered back, “YOU WERE USING ME FOR MY HEART!”

I wanted to tell Jon this:

Look, I don’t do friends with benefits because there are no benefits for me. If you wanted to have a fling, and if you had told me that up front; then I probably would have done it. But it would have been a one night stand and that’s it. You would call me the next day and I would ignore your calls.

I wouldn’t have gotten to known him and care about him. In fact, I almost went that way when he did call the next day….but then something crossed my mind that made me turn my phone on and call him back: I want something more with this guy and I don’t want to hurt him.

But I didn’t explained all that. Instead, Jon turned around and faced up at me, I had been leaning over him, with a half-cocked smile and using a teasingly higher pitched voice. I guess, he really believed that I was enjoying our new sexless friendship (maybe more than our sex [sorta full] romance?) because then he said:

“We don’t have anything in common that we talk about or can do together. (Sigh) There’s this girl at this coffee shop that I go to on my breaks. She works there, and will go outside to smoke on her break. She’s the biggest Joseph Campbell fan, and we talk about him all the time when I’m there and…she’s really attractive.” He said with a smile, the kind that showed his teeth, which looked whiter and squinted his eyes as he looked directly at me. “I’m thinking about asking her out for lunch or something.”

I wore my typical poker face, some part of me had accepted the fact that Jon would move on and find someone else…more attractive, more in tune with his needs — a smoker like him, a sci-fi enthusiast, a video-game master…kinky and flexible in the bedroom, as well as a scholarly intellect to talk about Dr. Campbell’s work–all rolled into one.

I don’t know why we never talked about intellectual topics, I don’t usually bring up much in conversation….I’m a listener not a talker. I listened when Jon would talk about the local politicians and some of their corrupted ways. Or on his more conservative views on term limits, taxes, and government programs. I listened to it all, but I guess I rarely contribute back…but he would monologue for an hour about these things. I never interrupted to give my 0.02¢

I sorta smiled and encouragingly replied,”Well that’s good, so at least you’re more confident about approaching women.” And that is good for his confidence if he’s able to approach attractive women and start–

I was pushed aside physically and in my thought process, as Jon groaned loudly and got off from the bed. He began agitatedly looking for a pack of smokes.

“What’s wrong? Did I–” Maybe I wasn’t suppose to bring up his lack of self confidence while praising him? I thought.

“The things I’m interested in are very narrow and deep. I don’t want to just tell you my interests….they have to come up in conversation!” He said, almost as if he read my mind.

***************

He took another hit.

Well, why the hell not I thought as I looked at him–miserable at our conversation which turned into a fight, in which I thought I said the right things by praising him– just made him completely shut down. So I grabbed the tall glass device, and inhaled as deeply as I could, and took in a slow burn which started in middle of my chest and spread upwards.

I coughed uncontrollably and took a few deep breaths of very cool and dry air, to put out the fire in my heart.

He put on a movie for me, which was suppose to be scary and it was! Though horror films are my favorite genre, it was too much for me to handle while pokin’ smot. Plus, he had really shiny quarters on his desk that drew my attention away from most of the film. I poked around and found a notebook of graphing paper that had a bunch of poorly drawn figures, and something entitled “Important rules from Sailor Pete to getting laid”

“Who’s Sailor Pete?” I giggled out.

1.  Buy her drinks, and for yourself too, but make sure she’s drunker than you

2. Put on a movie, but not one with a lot of violence in it

3. I forgot what this last one was, but you can only imagine my face…somewhere between shock and comedy as I didn’t take it seriously as advice that any man would follow or work for him. But Jon seemed pretty solemn when I asked him about it.

And that’s when I saw it. His face looked very different. He looked like — Adam! Someone I went to high school with….then I started thinking:

Well my inhibitions are low…so hopefully I won’t regret this in the morning. Plus, he does look a little sad…

So I grabbed his face and kissed him. Jon is completely taken back. “Let’s do it, take off your pants.” I said.

“Wait, wait. The food is here.” He said as the doorbell rang.

In a few minutes we were eating and I was back to “watching” the movie. It seemed like a very long time, but in retrospect maybe ten minutes passed. But I can’t believe Jon would finish eating in ten minutes…

“Alright, I’m ready.” He said, as he began to caress my arm and back.

Now I’m completely taken back, “What are you doing?!” I demanded.

“What, you wanted to have sex!” Jon replied.

“What are you talking about?” I responded dumbfounded. At the time, what happened ten minutes ago seemed like years ago, as for the life of me, I could not remember what happened.

I remember looking at coins, and someone gets eaten by the wolf, and the food came, oh yeah I think he looks different too…as I squinted my eyes peering very hard into an invisible near past.

“Just now, you mouth-raped me!” He exclaimed.

“Oh…well I guess we could, but I’m not in the mood.” I yawned. “Maybe I need some more.”

So I breathed in, the burn, the deep breath. And then I felt very cold and lonely, or more like needy.

I put my hand on his leg, “OK, fine. Why the heck not?” I asked as I undid his pants. “Come on, are you hard? I thought you said you wanted to have sex.”

“I do, and NO, I’m not hard!” He retorted.

“So get hard, let’s go, its getting late…” I teased.

“I can’t just do that! I need foreplay, Sabine!” He cried and he began to kiss me, in all his sloppy mannerism, which in my state of mind and with our supposed boundaries I didn’t care for or tried.

(Sigh) as I came up for air.

“You’re suppose to keep kissing” He demanded.

“Well, I need a break, besides when does the foreplay come into effect?” I whined. I felt like I was making out for 20 minutes (although it was probably 20 seconds).

“THIS IS FOREPLAY!! DON’T YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SEX!?!?!” He cried out.

“Yeh I do, and as your friend I don’t have to do foreplay. Besides why can’t we something that I like? A massage or some petting..” I said dreamily.

“NO!!! THAT’S NOT HOW YOU HAVE SEX!” He replied.

“Yeah, cause your way is the only way to have sex, its in all the books” I mumbled.

******(sigh)*******

I’m now laying on the mattress staring up at the ceiling. I turned towards Jon.

“Come, lie down…I’m cold and want body heat.” I wanted to cuddle with him, feel him, touch him….he didn’t come right away. Instead, he looked at me as if I had a man-eating pariah waiting for him as soon as he’d step on the mattress.

He lied down and I gently began to caress his chest. I kissed his ear and neck as I let my hand wander. Finally alert, he sat up and I took off his shirt, but I struggled with his pants. He removed my shirt and bra and laid me on my back.  I let him kiss me on the lips and he begins to work his way down…ignoring my cold breasts and nipples, and heading for the jeans.

He slowly started to undo my jeans, but not in a sexy graceful way, but it seemed like he was fumbling…or stalling? So, I reached with my hands to pull them down.

“Don’t touch your jeans, let me do it for you.” He ordered.

A few more smooches on my pubic mound and centimeter by centimeter he slid them down. I tried to arch my back so they can come off and I could pull them down from behind.

“DON’T SABINE! I WANT TO DO THIS FOR YOU!!!!”

“I know, I was trying to help….” I mumble….today is the day that I’ve ever seen Jon angry.

I looked back up at the ceiling, and a really troublesome hood draped over me. Something felt wrong about this scenario. Whatever I was thinking an hour ago, or maybe 2 minutes ago when we started…it felt wrong now. And then her voice rang in my head:

It’s about the size of 12 weeks

“JON!” I exclaimed, sitting up right and pulling my pants back up.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO HELP AND TO LET ME DO THIS FOR YOU!! THIS WAS ALL FOR YOU…..YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO HAVE SEX….YOU’RE BAD AT SEX!!….” It seemed like he was screaming off the top of his head. And where it was quiet before, footsteps from upstairs began to walk.

“I think you woke up—” I started.

“I DON’T CARE!!!! I WAS DOING THIS FOR YOU!!!!” He continued.

Speaking of which, to be continued.