“When you’re with me, Emma, you can leave your inhibitions at the door. I can guarantee you that there’s nothing I haven’t heard and most certainly nothing I’ve never done.”
“That doesn't shock me one bit,” she said with a grin.
“Either talk to me or tell me what you really want. Be open with someone, Emma. Be open with me.”
“Why?” she asked.
I took another sip of my drink and rolled the word around in my mind. It was a good word. A good question to ask someone. Why should she be open with me? Why was that something I wanted from her. My eyes locked onto hers and I felt her legs shift in my lap. She settled further into the couch. Into the cushions that cradled us as alcohol flooded my veins.
“Because everyone deserves to have someone they can be themselves with,” I said.
“And you think I’m not being myself?”
“I think you hide things. But I think you hide them from everyone. Not just me. I’d like to have a chance to be that person you don’t hide those things from.”
“You do.”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
Emma nodded and finished off her glass of wine. I reached for the glass and took it from her, placing both of our empty glasses onto the coffee table beside us. I took one of her feet in my hands and began to massage it, watching her head fall back into the couch. She groaned. Filled my living room with her sighs as the pads of my fingers worked the ache from her arches.
The sound throbbed the veins in my groin.
“Talk to me,” I said. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“When I came out of the kids’ room,” she said, “I was thinking about a lot of things. The time we spend together. The kids. My life, in general. I kept thinking about how bold and wonderful I feel when I’m with you, and I started wondering if that was a good thing.”
“Do you not think it is?” I asked as I placed her foot down.
“No,” she said. “I don’t. At least, that’s my knee jerk reaction. I’ve never been not guarded with someone. Being guarded, it’s how I protect myself.”
“What are you protecting yourself from?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Hurt. Disappointment. Heartbreak.”
I picked up her other foot and began to massage it. I wasn’t sure what to say or how to respond. I felt like there was something she needed to get out and I didn’t want to ruin her train of thought. But I did understand. My partying ways weren’t how I always wanted to live my life, but it was the easiest way. If you throw lavish parties and pay for everything, people like you. No one in that arena turns down free shots or a good time. People were guaranteed to like me if I partied, so I never had to worry about the idea of rejection.
In my own way, the parties were how I guarded myself.
“I’m angry a lot,” Emma said.
“You don’t strike me as someone who’s angry,” I said.
“Not angry, in general. But angry at my circumstance. You know, it’s-”
She sighed, and I could tell she was getting frustrated with herself.
“Emma.”
“Yeah?”
“Just talk. You don’t have to phrase it well or watch your words with me. Just… talk.”
I set her foot down and rubbed her shins, hoping to get her to relax a bit. She needed to talk, and I wanted to give her the space to do that.
“I’m always angry at my life. There’s always something about it I don’t like. In high school, there was the bullying. The teasing. The jokes and stuff like that. I was the weird kid. The one who always wore hand-me-down clothes. I never owned the latest fashions or had the money to get my hair cut in all the cool ways. I didn’t have new shoes or any sort of makeup sense. And I got teased for it a lot.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.