Elizabeth Finn - Restoring Jordan

“I hardly think I need to be concerned about your health, and I’m assuming I’ve not left enough time in your schedule for you to sleep with anyone else since I took your virginity, so I think the birth control will suffice in your case.” He smirks quickly before looking away. He still has a very uncharacteristic nervousness, and it leaves me wanting to reach out to him, reassure him. But for what?

I nod in agreement, and after calling my doctor to set up an appointment for Monday morning, Jordan finally relaxes. The weekend is spent together, and it’s amazing—movies in bed, dinner out at a quiet hole in the wall, sleeping late the next morning, and then more movies, a blowjob, more fun in the shower and incredible back rub, and then finally home. I spend the rest of the evening at the Laundromat, getting ready for the week with Kelli at my side. We fold, we chat, she pries for information, and I eventually give in.

“You’re going on birth control? And he asked you to?” She’s watching me as I nod. “Are you sure he doesn’t, like, really really like you? I mean, Addy, men don’t just ask you to go on birth control for a few weeks. Are you sure he doesn’t want to keep you around?” Her head is tilted with her leading question.

“Oh, come on. You saw him. You met him. He can’t possibly want anything long term with someone like me.” Kelli’s face scrunches up in her complete lack of appreciation for my words.

“What the hell are you saying? That you’re not good enough? Sorry, babe, but that’s bullshit!” She’s speaking forcefully and with more than enough conviction to show she’s serious.

“He doesn’t do relationships. He’s the one-night-stand man. Remember?”

“Sure he is. Maybe before he met you. It can’t have escaped your attention the man is obsessed with you, and if this is a one-night stand, then I, and the rest of the world for that matter, are completely confused on what the term actually means. One-night stand my ass! He likes you. Why is that so hard for you believe?” I shrug, with my low self-esteem visible to Kelli. “You already said he doesn’t agree with you returning to Iowa after graduation, and BTdubs, I don’t either.”

“Well you just made my point. There’s a difference between wanting me to stay for personal reasons and wanting me to stay for purely professional reasons.”

“You’re insane.” And her crazed but good-natured expression shows just how serious she is when she says this. “You’re sleeping with the man. He may not be confessing his undying love and devotion, but for fuck sake, he’s telling you he wants you to stay! Do you really think it’s so he can suddenly stop sleeping with you? He’s a man. And by your own admission, he was raised in a family that could have cared less if he was alive. He’s out of his element. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care! How can I see this so clearly and you can’t? I’m usually the one lacking in any rational thought, not you!”

“I just can’t … I don’t know. Honestly, Kelli, I want to think you’re right, but … I can’t have this blow up in my face.” I look away, shaking my head. She just doesn’t understand. She’s bold; I’m not. She can wear her heart on her sleeve and let people take as many swipes at her as they want. I’m terrified of caring for this man. I know I do. I love him. But I can’t put myself out there just to let him destroy me. Moving back to Des Moines is not my first choice, but I was offered a job there—the only job offer I’ve received. I can’t turn that down just to hang out in Chicago drooling over the one-night-stand man.

I have a small pile of rejection letters from Chicago firms that grows taller by the day, and I just don’t have any good excuse for staying. I’m out of money. He can offer to let me stay with him all he wants, but what does that really mean? Stay with him in his bed. And for how long? I’ve already made the mistake of caring entirely too much for a man who doesn’t know the first thing about love. Moving in with him is a liability to my pathetically ignorant and emotional heart. He’s given me no real reason to stay, and I can’t make a decision like this based on what I want him to feel for me. I just can’t set myself up for that kind of heartache. It’s the very heartache I’ve witnessed every last one of my girlfriends suffer. It’s the very heartache I’ve managed to avoid.

He’s the first and only man I’ve been with, and whatever type of relationship we have, it’s my very first of those as well. What are the odds this is the man I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with, and quite frankly, if I put myself out there with him, that’s exactly what my expectation would be. Forever. The odds are slim this is my future. He made that clear on the first night we were together, and anything other than forever will break my heart if I let it. I love Kelli, and she wants what’s best for me, but she’s always been impetuous when I’ve been cautious.

I won’t break it off with him. I’d fail at his first touch, but I can’t plan a life with him here when he’s given me no reason to think that’s possible.

Adeline is late arriving Monday morning due to her doctor’s appointment, and when she finally shows up and she’s active in the e-mail system, I ask her to meet me in the lobby to head over to Market Street. They’re completing the install of her cabinets today, and she’s been looking forward to this. The drywall finishers have completed the painting for the entire model unit, and with the cabinetry now finally going in, it’s time for doors and trim. The woodworking studio we contracted for the custom built-ins will be arriving shortly after one o’clock to complete the cabinetry, and that gives Adeline and I time to get lunch together. There is a small café we’ve eaten at a couple of times, and I don’t have to worry much about being caught with the intern there, so as I pull to the curb with her by my side, I lean to her mouth and kiss her. I’ve been stuck on the phone the entire drive and haven’t even had a chance to ask about her appointment.

I wasn’t ready for her to leave last night, and though I tried to convince her to stay, I stopped short of showing her just how desperate I was. I don’t know why I insist on playing it cool with her. I’m anything but when I’m around her, but as much as it could be my downfall, I hold it back. I’m new to caring so much about a woman, and there’s an incredible vulnerability that leaves me frozen in panic most of the time. Taking her body, pleasuring her, giving her every last ounce of my physical passion is easy; I’m making love to her, and every touch, caress, kiss is a show of my deep and desperate feelings, but she has no idea. Her rejection would destroy me, and I’m not ready to divulge that fact yet.

She has a job offer in Des Moines starting the week following her graduation, and this fact leaves me ready to call every firm in Chicago to beg they offer her a job. Her decision in some way is like a rejection, but it isn’t. She’s broke and has no real reason to stay without a job. But she knows I want her to stay. However much of my emotion I continue to hide or continue to display only in my physical interaction, I haven’t told her the real reason for wanting her here. It’s because I can’t imagine my life without her in it. I can’t imagine my home belonging to only me anymore, and I can’t imagine lying alone in my bed for the rest of my life. She cares about me, but could she ever love someone like me?

As I pull from her mouth, she gives me my most favorite smile. It’s the one that is slight and subtle, all of her passion is in her eyes, rather than her mouth, and it’s an intimate look of longing. I’m guessing she’s still having her period, and the want from so many days of not making love to her may just kill me. I tried my best to convince her to let me make love to her both Saturday night and Sunday, but she wouldn’t budge. The look of absolute mortification had me dropping my request without much fight. She was terrified of going there with me, her self-consciousness getting the better of her. Patience is a virtue others behold, not me, and I’m already praying her cycle is short. At least I won’t have to worry about suiting up every time I want her, and since I want her constantly, I’ll likely be shaving a good hour of condom rolling off my schedule every week. What will I do with all that extra time?

I open her door, and we walk hand in hand into the restaurant. The moment our waitress has taken our order, I grill her, and she humors my over-interest in her birth-control details.

“I opted for the arm implant.” And pulling up the arm of her short-sleeve shirt, I can see the bandage is on the inside of her upper arm.

“Well fuck, you didn’t have to maim yourself for the cause. The pill would have sufficed.”

She smiles and cocks her head. “Not if the point was to actually keep me from getting pregnant. I don’t remember to take pills well. Never have. Trust me, it would have been disastrous.”

“Oh I don’t know. I bet you’d be sexy as hell pregnant.” My eyes flit from hers the moment the words are out, and hers move from mine as well. Fuck. Wanting to see her someday carrying our child is my fantasy and not something I intended to share with her right now. But as the flush of her cheeks subsides and she looks back to me, I get us back on track. “So how long is that good for?”

“Three years.”

“Hmm. I’m sure we could have a lot of fun in three years.” Fuck again. I can’t stop divulging my innermost secret longing for her today, and as her shy gaze that once more fled my own again finds its way back to mine, I try again to rectify my slip. “Just kidding… That would of course require you to actually stay in Chicago, and since you have no interest in being here, it’s…” And the waitress arrives with our salads. Thank fuck! One more moment and I’ll be professing my undying love and devotion and probably proposing marriage before we’ve even been served our food.

As she finishes her side salad and pushes the plate to the edge of the table, I hand her an envelope. She takes it, opening it quickly and pulling the few sheets of paper out. As she reads, I comment, “As promised. And you’ll note I’m free of any communicable diseases.” Her eyes flash to mine and she gives a quick, amused smile before returning to the paperwork. She studies, she reviews, she pays far more attention to my life spelled out in medical terms than I expected.

“You have good cholesterol.”

“Thanks?” I cock my head in amusement, and she flashes another smile. She’s enjoying herself, and I’m enjoying her.

“Your HDL is a little low though… Perhaps you should have ordered the salmon…” She looks at me with a sarcastic smile, and I chuckle.

“Are you reassured of my good health … minus my obvious HDL flaw?”

“I wasn’t too concerned to begin with. You went to the trouble of getting your medical records, so I assumed you knew there was nothing concerning on there … aside from the HDL…” Now we’re both smiling as our food arrives. A bacon cheeseburger for me; cholesterol be damned.

As we eat, I overstep the boundaries a bit more. “So how long does your period usually last?”

“Four to five days.”

“And how fast does the implant kick in?”

“I’ll be covered as soon as my cycle ends.”

“So by like tonight?”

“Odd you never learned to count the days of the week.” Her sarcasm has my soul on fire. “Try Wednesday most likely.”

“Ah. The golf tournament.”

“Umm. Golf tournament. Should I know what you’re referring to?”

I fill her in on our annual spring golf tournament. We will close shop for the afternoon, and the entire company will more or less take over the golf course for an afternoon of golf, drinks, and fun. I usually bow out, but I’m suddenly very interested in this event. And more than that, what fun I might be able to squeeze in with Adeline while there. It will be the first time I can get my dick inside her after all. She confesses she’s never golfed, and I confess I have. I’m a good golfer, and I can’t wait to show off a bit in that incredibly masculine need I have to impress the hell out of her, and by the time lunch is over we’re running late getting to the site.

***

When Wednesday afternoon rolls around, I’m ready to do anything I can to get to her body. The week has been torture. She hasn’t spent the night with me, nor has she asked me to spend the night with her. Being apart no longer feels normal, but neither of us are ready to break down and ask the other over when our interaction is so limited by her blessed femaleness; I want her there regardless of whether I can touch her, but it’s harder for some reason to ask when I have no sexually-based reason; just another reminder of what a schmuck I am.