T. Oso (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
campkilkare) wrote2008-12-26 06:40 pm
campkilkare) wrote2008-12-26 06:40 pm
Entry tags:
Alice/Zora, 4 of ??
"Do you know how to make anything besides eggs?" She was up before my alarm; I found her at my stove. She was wearing pants. She had brought pants in the garment bag to wear while she cooked me eggs. Maddening.
"Sure," she says. "But I like eggs for breakfast. And you don't have any bacon."
"It's bad for you," I said, virtuously.
"This pan had a quarter inch of bacon grease in it," she pointed out.
"Oops." Housekeeping has never been something I enjoyed.
"Well, the eggs are gonna taste great," she said, bringing them to the table.
"Don't you have to work today?" I asked her, but she shook her head.
"I'm on an overnight rotation. Two nights eight to eight, then three off." It would be years before I understood FDNY scheduling.
"...so I won't see you tonight," I said. It was embarrassing to say it, but she didn't laugh.
"No. But we can have breakfast tomorrow if you want. I'll give you an address."
"Okay." I got ready for work--we showered together because I was running late, among other reasons. She walked me to the subway station.
It was a weird kind of day at work. For one thing, I had nothing about the gallery opening Friday that the cocktail party went along with; not a word. So I tried writing in the NVV offices, and found I didn't like it very much. I also had a couple dozen emails. I'd gone off the grid for two days, for the first time in maybe years. I'd finally sent a tweet from my phone Sunday in the bathroom at Alice's, embarrassed but feeling like people were expecting to hear from me.
With the Amazon all weekend!! Details to come.
But what were the details? That I was infatuated and delirious over a woman I barely knew, who could completely take me apart in the bedroom (and the kitchen and the living room floor and the shower and...) and who seemed to need me in the same out of control way. That I knew next to nothing about her but had still spent forty-eight hours locked in her apartment like a harem girl, and had let her spend the night in my place without a word discussed between us about it--just her decision to take me.
Put like that it sounded either horrible or horribly exciting.
Added to that people kept stopping to tell me how good I looked today, did I change something? My hair? New outfit? I looked in a pocket mirror. Was there some kind of radiation I couldn't see? If so, well.... I couldn't see it. I felt like a mess, nervy and distracted. A man from the advertising department who I'd spoken to half a dozen times asked me my name and if I'd like to go to lunch, was I new to the magazine?
I banged out the piece on the new show Robert was sponsoring, an even quicker blog post promising all the scandalous details of my lost weekend when I had more time, and I left work early. I went to the park and I decided it had to stop. This wasn't a relationship, or even the beginning of a relationship. This was like being on fire, and I couldn't see it ending well.
I made up my mind. Right.
"Sure," she says. "But I like eggs for breakfast. And you don't have any bacon."
"It's bad for you," I said, virtuously.
"This pan had a quarter inch of bacon grease in it," she pointed out.
"Oops." Housekeeping has never been something I enjoyed.
"Well, the eggs are gonna taste great," she said, bringing them to the table.
"Don't you have to work today?" I asked her, but she shook her head.
"I'm on an overnight rotation. Two nights eight to eight, then three off." It would be years before I understood FDNY scheduling.
"...so I won't see you tonight," I said. It was embarrassing to say it, but she didn't laugh.
"No. But we can have breakfast tomorrow if you want. I'll give you an address."
"Okay." I got ready for work--we showered together because I was running late, among other reasons. She walked me to the subway station.
It was a weird kind of day at work. For one thing, I had nothing about the gallery opening Friday that the cocktail party went along with; not a word. So I tried writing in the NVV offices, and found I didn't like it very much. I also had a couple dozen emails. I'd gone off the grid for two days, for the first time in maybe years. I'd finally sent a tweet from my phone Sunday in the bathroom at Alice's, embarrassed but feeling like people were expecting to hear from me.
With the Amazon all weekend!! Details to come.
But what were the details? That I was infatuated and delirious over a woman I barely knew, who could completely take me apart in the bedroom (and the kitchen and the living room floor and the shower and...) and who seemed to need me in the same out of control way. That I knew next to nothing about her but had still spent forty-eight hours locked in her apartment like a harem girl, and had let her spend the night in my place without a word discussed between us about it--just her decision to take me.
Put like that it sounded either horrible or horribly exciting.
Added to that people kept stopping to tell me how good I looked today, did I change something? My hair? New outfit? I looked in a pocket mirror. Was there some kind of radiation I couldn't see? If so, well.... I couldn't see it. I felt like a mess, nervy and distracted. A man from the advertising department who I'd spoken to half a dozen times asked me my name and if I'd like to go to lunch, was I new to the magazine?
I banged out the piece on the new show Robert was sponsoring, an even quicker blog post promising all the scandalous details of my lost weekend when I had more time, and I left work early. I went to the park and I decided it had to stop. This wasn't a relationship, or even the beginning of a relationship. This was like being on fire, and I couldn't see it ending well.
I made up my mind. Right.