Was I too easy? Was I too eager? Was this simply part of an experiment to see if I could have a normal relationship, fall in love, marry, have children, and never think of what had happened to me years ago?
Perhaps.
But I did feel something deeper for him. He was vulnerable, too. He was looking for the same answers about himself, really. We were two explorers, discovering ourselves again. How could this be wrong?
Both of us feared that lovemaking would never work for us. We’d be afraid of the feelings and terrified of failing. I could hear that fear in every moan and cry, feel it in every long kiss. I was clinging to him as if he were a parachute and I was falling and falling, until the moment came, the moment of pleasure I feared I would never have. I cried out in both delight and relief, and afterward, we lay there holding on to each other as if we were afraid that if we let go, all of this, including ourselves, would disappear.
He turned onto his back and lay there beside me, smiling.
“You have a smug smile on your face,” I said.
“Yes, yes, I do. I’m an arrogant, confident, and happy bastard.” He turned to me. “And it’s all your fault for being so beautiful and intelligent and loving.”
I laughed, and I didn’t want to come down from the high I had reached. “You used a multimillion-dollar estate to seduce me,” I said.
“Guilty.”
“And wine and pizza and beautiful music.”
“Guilty.”
“But I’m not satisfied.”
“What?”
“I want something more.”
“You do?” He sat up and looked down at me. “What else?”
“Laugh if you like, but I want the best sundae in the world.”
He was silent for a moment and then broke into real laughter. “I don’t know if we can make it before they close. Let’s give it a shot. Everything you need is in the bathroom—hair dryer, body lotion, whatever. Wait.”
He rose and brought back a pink silk bathrobe for me. Then he went for his clothes. I got mine, went into the bathroom, and got myself ready in record time, I’m sure.
“I called. They promised they’d stay open for us,” he said when I came out.
We hurried through the house, put our shoes on in the foyer, and got into his car, laughing most of the way. I felt like I was on one of those rafts navigating river rapids, incapable now of changing direction but screaming with glee at the dangers. Troy’s face was glowing, as I had seen mine was. Nothing now seemed too difficult to do, even having Thanksgiving dinner with my sister.
Later, when he finally brought me back to my dorm, we were still laughing and talking a mile a minute, as if everything that had bound and restricted our thoughts and dreams had been broken. For a moment after he had parked, we sat looking at each other. Neither of us wanted the night to end. We were clinging to every final second.
“Happy?”
“Very,” I said.
“As a rule, I don’t believe in luck. Coincidence, yes, but good and bad luck, no. But tonight, I have to thank some lucky stars that you were brought here. I suppose that’s selfish. I should think of why you were brought here.”
“Why stop now?” I asked.
“Stop what?”
“Being selfish.”
He laughed. “I can see my tombstone now: ‘Here lies Troy Matzner, teased to death.’?”
We laughed and kissed, and then he nodded and grew serious.
“I’ll be thinking about you tomorrow,” he said, “but I’m confident you’ll be fine. Just say and do what you think is right.”