Push Me Ch. 02

When I finally regained my sensibilities, it was early evening. I realized it had been close to twenty-four hours since I'd eaten. The pills had worn off, and I was supposed to take them with food, not that I'd bothered to do that so far. I hobbled to the kitchen. After a quick sandwich and some more pills, I took a cool shower, since hot water burned like all hell on my foot. I felt a thousand times better afterward.

Clean, fed, and re-drugged, I settled back into bed to watch TV for a while. I stopped on Sports Center to see what drama had unfolded in the sports world. A few contract signings, some player trades, high school kids declaring for colleges, which always seemed like the dumbest thing to cover to me, and a player DUI scandal crawled along the bottom of the screen. A male and female talking head recapped top plays and stories in more detail, but I was barely aware of them.

"What the fuck just happened?" I said to no one. I would say, "That kind of thing doesn't happen to me," except, this evening had been a repeat performance. It had happened, squared, no less, just a few days ago. Maybe, "What the fuck is going on?" was a better question. The Law of Diminishing Returns said there was maybe a hand jibber in my future, and that would be the end of it, but what Shelly did for me earlier wasn't simple teasing or even a quickie with an older guy. It felt like real affection there. My drug-addled brain gave up trying to reconcile past experiences with more recent ones. I flipped the TV to a mindless action movie. I was out in ten minutes.

It was completely dark when I woke up again. I must have turned off the TV half-asleep. My phone was buzzing on the table beside my bed, blaring a guitar-heavy rock song. I always used those as ring tones, just so I would notice my phone was ringing. It was Moira. I was instantly awake.

"Hi, Moira."

"Craig? Are you OK? Shelly said you were hurt."

"I'm fine. Shelly came by and made sure I was comfortable."

"She told me." 'Told you what?' I wondered.

"Did she tell you it wasn't bad, just a sore foot? I have good drugs. I'll be fine." I tried to reassure her. I could hear her frowning at the phone.

"Can I come see you tomorrow?"

"Anytime, Moira."

"OK. OK, good. Ugh, I have to go. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Craig."

"Good night, Moira." I heard a party start up in the background before she hung up. I passed back out.

I woke up very early the next morning. The pills had totally fucked my sleep schedule, but asleep was better than awake and in pain. I slid out of bed and tested my foot. I could definitely walk better than I could yesterday, but I wasn't running anytime soon. My foot didn't feel like a full hot water bottle anymore either - good sign.

I went about my morning routine, bathroom, coffee, food, online news and a few comics as well. It was payday, so I paid a few bills online. The new round of pills started to kick in, and, rather than have another round of cramps with no Shelly to take care of them, I dragged myself back to bed.

It was close to noon when I resurfaced. My phone was blinking, and I saw I had an hour-old text from Moira.

Moira: Be there around 1. I'm bringing lunch! Is that OK?

I ran through the gamut of replies, analyzing content and tone - everything from, "I'll be here with bells on," to, "I'll be here wearing nothing but a bell on my dick."

Me: I can't wait.

Simple, and true.

I cleaned myself up and put on some decent clothing. I decided there was no way I was going to take any more painkillers unless it got unbearable. I managed to putter around and distract myself long enough for Moira to arrive.

"One sec," I replied to the knock at my door. I hobbled over and swung it open.

"Hi!" Moira exclaimed. She was dressed simply in tight-fitting jeans with an off the should purple t-shirt that was gathered at the waist, and black ballet slippers. I fought the urge to lean down and just start sucking on her exposed shoulder and neck.

"Hi, Moira. Come on in."

She placed a handled paper bag on the counter, and then turned and wrapped her arms around my waist.

"How are you today?" she asked.

"Better than yesterday. Most of the swelling is gone, and the pain is minimal as long as I don't put weight on it."

"Good. Sit. Sit. Lunch is ready." She had an entire lunch in that bag for us. A delicious curry lentil soup and some naan, plus bowls and spoons, all disposable -- no fuss. The smell of the soup lit me up as soon as it hit me.

"Oh wow, Moira, that smells amazing."

"It's mi mami's recipe. The naan I bought, though."

"So few apartments have tandoors these days." I said with mock disgust.

"I know!" she replied, giggling.

"How have you been, Moira?"

"I'm fine. Good actually. Really good."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Shelly said you were hurt in a fight?" She was studying my face with a serious expression.

"Not like a bar fight. It was a controlled sparring bout. It was an accident. I kicked a guy in the knee. His knee won. It's not like anything was badly damaged. It's just some tendonitis, nothing torn or broken."

"Good. I didn't think you'd go around beating up people." She still had the same fixated, studious expression.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Not now. Eat, please, before it gets cold." It smelled too delicious to refuse, and I wasn't going to push her.

I blew on a hot spoonful, and then popped it into my mouth. My eyes rolled back into my head. I'm a sucker for Indian food. "Moira, this is fantastic."

She smiled demurely. "I'm glad you like it." The missed meals yesterday made themselves known, and I put down two bowls with Moira smiling over me like a proud mother the whole time. Even the store-bought naan was good.

After we ate, Moira and I spent the entire afternoon talking. I told her about my family and growing up in West Virginia. She said it sounded like Colombia sometimes, except for the snow. She'd never seen snow. "Well, I saw some of the, what are they called, when they just flutter around, and then disappear?"

"Flurries?"

"That's it!" Flurries. I've seen a few flurries, but ... I can only imagine what it looks like with the ground totally covered in white."

"It's ... serene, especially, for me, late at night. The snow muffles the sound, and all you can see is white -- pure, perfect white -- glittering like gemstones in the moonlight."

She smiled. "I'd love to see something like that."

"I"d love to show it to you sometime."

"Your home?"

"Anywhere. As long as there's snow and you." God, I loved that smile. I basked in it for a moment. Then, I asked her about her parents.

"You already know I talk to them once a week at least. They were really bad my first year of college. Losing one kid just made them want to cling to the other one even tighter," she told me.

"I get that. By the way, I love how you always refer to them in Spanish." She paused with a reflective look on her face.

"I guess I do. I never really thought about it. Spanish is my first language, and it's what we always spoke in Colombia. Mami already spoke English before she met papi, and she started teaching us as soon as we found out we were moving to the U.S. I guess it was just habit by then."

"Well, keep it that way." She smiled.

We swapped funny dorm stories, and a few drinking stories as well. I was by far a more rambunctious drunk than she was; although, I did enjoy the story of her getting caught skinny-dipping with her friends in a neighbor's pool, and I really enjoyed visualizing it.

She asked me about my job, but, beyond a word processor and the internet, she wasn't interested PCs or technology. She still had an old, pre-paid flip phone, and she loved it.

"What about you? What do you do when you're not in class?" I asked.

"I work part-time for a vet. Mostly just front desk work, but I help take care of the animals we're boarding, too. I couldn't do the vet stuff though. I can't even watch when a dog or cat needs a shot, even if it doesn't seem to bother them."

We talked about music and movies. We talked about food and coffee. At some point we began holding hands. It happened so naturally, neither of us noticed when it did.

As our conversations became more intimate, so did our positions. Holding hands transitioned to sitting with my arm around her shoulders, her feet curled up underneath her. From there, she laid her head in my lap, looking up at me. I touched her cheek and stroked her hair as we talked about dreams and fears. I never held anything back. I never wanted to.

We talked the whole afternoon and into the evening. Eventually, our stomachs let us know what time it was.

"Moira, since you brought lunch, you have to let me buy you dinner."

"I think I can handle that."

"Good. Problem is, I can't drive, and I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"That's two problems."

I chuckled. Damn, she was sharp. I loved it."You know, you're right, it is, but, I can solve both with one simple plan -- delivery."

"Just not pizza, please. I know college kids are supposed to love it, but I'm sick of it."

"I was thinking sushi, actually."

"Ohhhhh really? I haven't had much sushi. Just the generic California roll and some shrimp."

"Well then, let me be your guide through the wonderful world of raw fish."

"I'd like that."

"Fantastic." I called a sushi place nearby that would deliver. I bade Moira to relax, and busied myself setting up the table and opening a bottle of wine. The traditional white with this, red with that, wine rules are bullshit, but I did have a Chardonnay I liked with sushi.

No sooner than I got the cork pulled, the doorbell rang. I paid the delivery guy with a good tip without bothering to examine the boxes. I think this is the only place that has never messed up a food order on me.

"I'm so excited!" Moira clapped her hands behind me. I chuckled. I took her hand, guided her to the table, pulled out her chair, and got her settled. I removed everything from the bag, popping the tops off the sushi boxes and pouring soy sauce into little bowls. Moira had already opened a packet of chopsticks and was wielding them deftly. She was full of surprises, and she was definitely better with those things than I was. I just didn't seem to have the fingers for it.

"I heard you order, but I have no idea what's what." Her chopsticks twitched excitedly in the air.

"Well, this you're familiar with, but maybe not entirely." I gestured to one of the neat rows of maki rolls. "This is the California roll, but with orange roe."

"Roe?"

"Fish eggs." She looked at me disbelievingly. "Seriously," I assured her.

"Like caviar?"

"These are to good caviar what Mad Dog is to good wine, but much more palatable." She wrinkled her nose.

"What do they taste like?" she asked, insecurely.

"Salt."

"Really?"

"Yup. Just adds a salty taste." She hefted one smoothly, dipped it with a plop into her soy sauce, and then plunged it into her mouth. She chewed apprehensively a few times, then with fervor and muffled, "mmm"s. I smiled and ate one of the same.

"Oh wow," she said, fixated on the platters. I could see her curiosity running wild.

"Now, there's no raw fish in that, actually. It's cooked. Are you ready for something raw?"

"I'm ready for anything!" I laughed from my gut. She beamed a smile at me.

"This is one of my absolute favorites - spicy yellowtail, rolled in black sesame seeds," I said, pointing to a series of rice cylinders with pale orange cores, the outside speckled with black dots.

Moira gingerly picked one up and sniffed it. "It doesn't smell fishy," she said, surprised, but dubious.

"It shouldn't. Only bad fish smells fishy." She nodded, seeing how that fit with her apparently somewhat reserved view of seafood. She dipped the roll, and, after a second's hesitation and a nod and a smile from me, placed it on her tongue and began to chew. This was one of my favorites for a reason. Her lips and jaw closed, and her chopsticks fell to her plate. Her eyes rolled back into her head, which slumped back onto her shoulders. She chewed languidly, savoring every second. A throaty moan escaped her. "Good, huh?"

She smiled and gave me a stunned look. "I've never tasted anything like that!" Her eyes shot open even wider, and she clutched her wine glass. Oh yeah, spicy yellowtail. A quick swig from her glass, and that dreamy look returned.

We went through buttery eel, crispy, sweet tempura lobster, and a few pieces of various sashimi as well, just so she could have the fish totally naked. By the time we got to the sashimi, she dove in, and loved it.

But she saved a piece of spicy yellowtail for last. That's my girl.

"So?" I asked after she downed the last piece.

"That was amazing!"

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

We sat there after dinner, sipping wine, and our conversations flowed just as they had earlier. It was close to midnight when one of us bothered to look at a clock.

"OK, I'm getting ass fatigue from this chair. Shall we adjourn to the living room?" I asked.

"Good idea," Moira said, nodding.

I pulled out her chair for her and led her back to the couch. After a grimace and an almost missed step, she was half holding me up by the time we got there. I had spent too much time with my foot at ground level, and the swelling was coming back. Moira steered me right past the couch and to my bedroom.

"OK, back to bed with you, mister," she directed.

"Aww, but mom!" I grumbled. She tittered.

"I'm coming too, don't worry."

"Ay, mami." I said, breathily. I was rewarded with a shiver and goose-bumps on her arms.

I lowered myself gingerly onto the bed, and slid to the middle. Moira climbed on after and snuggled up against me. We lie there blissfully, quiet for a few moments.

"Thank you for dinner," she said eventually.

"Thank you for lunch, and for having dinner with me." She pulled herself a little closer to me. Contentment conspired against consciousness, and we napped briefly in each other's arms. I can say we, because she fell asleep first.

She also woke up first. I opened my eyes to find her studying my face.

"Why do I feel so safe with you?" she asked me pointedly.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that, but, seeing as this is news to me, I haven't spent much time considering it. I can make an educated guess though."

"OK."

"I've never pushed you, and I think you know I won't."

She thought for a moment. "That's definitely part of it. I think that's what I was missing. There's also a calm security to you, and it doesn't have anything to do with fighting or your size. Just a sense that..., " she trailed off. "That you'd protect me," she whispered. The way she said it tripped alarms in my head.

"Moira, are you in some kind of danger? Did someone threaten you?" I asked. Images of drug cartel violence sprung to mind unbidden.

"No, no." She popped up from the bed on one arm. "I didn't mean it to sound like that." My heart slowed down and I relaxed slightly. She put a hand on my chest. "But you'd jump to protect me if I was, wouldn't you." Her eyes bored into me.

"I would." I said without hesitating.

"Somehow, I've known that answer all long," she mused. She went back to studying my face.

After a long moment I asked, "What is it, Moira?"

She frowned inwardly and said, "I need to explain, about last Friday."

"Moira, you don't-"

She silenced me with a finger across my lips. "I want to, so listen." I nodded.

She laid her head down on my chest, took a deep breath, and then another, steeling herself.

"I've never...had sex with a man," she said, quietly. "I've...done other things, but never that. I wanted to that night. That's why I said what I did." She frowned. "Then I chickened out. I wanted to, but it...felt wrong."

"I'm glad you did." I said. She looked up at me, her eyes pooling with tears.

"Why?"

"Because you're right. It would have been wrong. That should be a special thing, between you and someone special to you. Not someone you didn't know four hours earlier, and with a spectator to boot." She clutched me tightly, crying. I stroked her back and held her.

When the tears subsided, she said, "I was afraid you were going to say that you didn't want the burden of being someone's first."

"Burden!?"

"Like, afraid I'd be clingy, think it was something more."

I squeezed her. "Yes, it's for a selfish reason; I would have hated myself for sullying something like that for you." She kissed me fiercely, her hands roaming my face and chest as I pressed her against me. We came up for air once our lips went numb.

She locked her eyes with me. "I want you to be my first." I was stunned.

"Why?"

"For every reason we just talked about. I want this chapter of my life to start already!" She paused, frustration all over her face. "But every time it's come close to happening, I got scared. I've heard so many horror stories from other girls. I won't be scared with you. You're a sweet, wonderful person, and I'll never forget you, no matter what happens. With you, this will be special." I stroked her cheek affectionately.

"On two conditions," I said seriously.

"OK..." Moira replied tentatively.

"One, I pick where and when -- Chicago, the charity dinner. We make an all day date of it, something you'll never forget."

"I can live with that." She smiled down at me.

"Good. Two," I took a breath. "I can't take this from you Moira, but if you want to give me a gift so precious, I'll gladly accept it."

She pounced on me, kissing me hungrily. Eventually she started tugging up my shirt.

"Moira?" I asked.

She gave me a plaintive look. "I just need to feel you against me," she explained. I helped her tug off my shirt. Then she removed hers. She straddled my waist, stretching out on top of me, her head against my chest. I let my fingers trail lazily up and down her spine, loving every inch of her silken warmth. Lost in the intimate caress, something occurred to me.

"Moira, considering what we just talked about, I think I need to ask you something."

"OK?"

"What's your relationship with Shelly?"

"We're not lesbians," she said. I chuckled at her directness.

"Friday wasn't the first time you've kissed her though."

"No. OK yes we've...had sex a few times. The first time not long after we met. I had never really thought about girls like that at the time, and she had a boyfriend at another school. I was upset about my roommate, and she was so understanding. We were both really ... frustrated, too. We comforted each other that night, and it made us very close, but we're just friends. We've done it a couple other times, drunk and horny, as a safe release with someone we trust, but never with a third person," she paused, "until now, but that's it." She eyed me critically. "Why?"

"Well, that Friday, I could see how comfortable you were with each other. When Shelly asked me to watch, I thought maybe you two were in a relationship, and I was satisfying an exhibitionist streak, and, much to my surprise and delight, the living sex toy role." Moira giggled at my description. "I didn't want to step between you. That's why I asked if you wanted to sleep beside her that night."

I got an affectionate smile. "That's sweet," she said, stroking my cheek, "but you don't need to worry about that." Something else occurred to me.

"What did Nurse Shelly tell you?" I asked. She giggled.

"That she rubbed her boobs in your face and gave you a naked back rub." Shit.

"Well, then she only told you half of it." I hesitated. "She also gave me a very naked and... thorough... front rub." I didn't bother with the bit in the chair. After everything else that happened, that seemed more like fending Shelly off than anything.

"Oh." She shook her head, and, after a long pause said, "She's done this before." My eyebrows leaped up. Moira laughed at my expression. "What I mean is, well, there was a guy about a year ago, Billy. He was in several of my classes. We talked, we dated, and he told me he was a virgin too, after I told him I was, and that I wanted to be sure before I did anything. He said I was special to him, and that he would wait for me. Shelly swore he was a man slut, but I didn't believe it. One day he showed up at our apartment and I wasn't home, but Shelly was. She seduced him to prove she was right, or that was her plan. According to Shelly, it turned out he knew I wouldn't be there, and that she was playing into his plan. He thought he could have one roommate while waiting for the other." Something about that story bothered me, aside from the fact that he hadn't learned an important Seinfeldian lesson, but I couldn't figure out what it was.