Page 67
“Oh, right. Arturo said Geordie started oversharing about your relationship. What did he say?” Carmen’s eyes widen. “Did Geordie talk about your sex life?”
Dammit. I thought every single person at that party knew! That was the reason I hid out at the far end of the yard in the first place. When so many people heard Geordie drunkenly apologize for not fulfilling my rape fantasy—well, I thought that was the kind of gossip that flowed through a party even faster than sangria. Arturo heard it, I know. But apparently nobody told Carmen.
I ought to be grateful. Instead, I’m chagrined. If someone had told her the truth then, I wouldn’t have as much to explain now. I say, “Yeah. Geordie got seriously personal, and I was pretty embarrassed. ”
Carmen shrugs. “Come on. You guys went out for more than six months. It’s not like people didn’t know you two were sleeping together. ”
“That’s not the point. Geordie, um, gave specifics. ”
“Oh, my God. Was he talking about your body? I would die. ” She gives me a look. “Do you think that’s why Jonah got interested in you? Because that would weird me out. ”
I can’t tell her. I can’t. Carmen’s so far from realizing what I’m talking about, and I don’t want to bridge the gulf between her relative innocence and the kind of kink Jonah and I have indulged. Explaining feels impossible . . . or, at least, uncomfortable. “Not quite like that,” I say, not meeting her eyes. “Jonah didn’t want me to feel embarrassed. So we wound up, uhh, talking when we saw each other at the charity benefit. And guess what? At the silent auction, he actually bought my etching. ”
“No way! Really?”
I smile back. “Even better, he decided to bid on it before he knew it was mine. ”
Then Carmen and I are talking easily about the fact that Jonah’s interested in my art, and how cool that is, plus it’s pretty hot for a guy to be flying all around the world to study volcanoes, and so on. I ask her whether she’s made a move on her latest crush, but she claims she’s too busy with schoolwork. Has she suddenly turned shy? Maybe this particular guy brings out her bashful side. Our conversation widens as we spiral further away from the dark truth I’d rather not tell.
Doreen’s voice echoes in my memories. Pay attention to the secrets that you keep. You don’t have to share everything with everyone—but sometimes the very things you hide are the things you least need to keep locked inside.
The secret Jonah and I share is different. Surely it belongs to us alone.
• • •
Carmen has a ten A. M. class, so before long she’s headed to campus, as blissfully ignorant of my warped sex life as ever. I need to get into the departmental office soon, so I should follow her, but I linger awhile, restless and unable to focus.
Instead I pace the length of the studio. People will start coming in soon, but for another few minutes, the space is mine alone. My footsteps on the concrete floor echo in the empty space. The air smells like paint. I’m surrounded by drafting tables, a potter’s wheel, easels, X-Acto knives, pots of ink. A few long poles stretch from floor to ceiling, lingering evidence of the spiral staircases that were here back when this was a warehouse. Masking-tape labels proclaim this brush or that canvas to be the property of one of the artists who pays for the studio’s use.
I wish the studio belonged to me. Only me.
Because then I could ask Jonah to meet me here.
He would rip open my work shirt. Cover my mouth with his hand. Thrust against me so that I felt the length and hardness of his erection against my belly. I imagine him using the ragged remains of my shirt to tie me to one of the poles—pulling so tight I can almost feel the pressure. My breaths quicken as I imagine him taking one of the artists’ knives and cutting away my jeans and panties. Then he could force my legs apart and—
“Hey!”
Startled, I spin around to see Marvin—a painter, one of my fellow TAs at the UT department of art, and the guy who told me about this studio in the first place. “Oh! Hi. Hi there. How’s it going?”
“Fine. ” Marvin gives me a look as he hangs his messenger bag on one of the wall hooks. “You okay?”
“Sure! Of course. ”
“You look a little flushed, that’s all. ”
“Just got done working hard. ” Wow, that could not have sounded less convincing if I’d tried. Hastily I head for my own bag. “Heading out. Anything you need me to take care of at the office?”
Marvin shakes his head, bemused. “It’s all good. ”