Once Bitten Twice Shy. Sommer Marsden
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He looked uncertain but finally spoke. ‘There’s more? Worse than that?’
‘Yes and no,’ she said. Then she laughed. It was a bitter sound and she flinched. ‘I’m eating up your day with my tales of woe. But this is part of why it’s so important to me that this art thing is just friends. Whether you understand or not – whether anyone does – it’s how it has to be. So…is that OK?’
He looked at her seriously and her heart gave a kick. She wanted more coffee or a nap or just to curl up in a ball and cry. ‘August, you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Ever. Especially not me. I’m just the lawn guy.’ He grinned at her. ‘Friends it is. Absolutely.’
She watched him walk out of the tiny kitchen, her emotions in such a tangle she didn’t know up from down.
I’m just the lawn guy…
‘No, you’re not,’ she said in the empty room. ‘You’re my first real temptation.’
‘You didn’t do anything,’ Carley said, fishing out a bite of lo mein.
She’d completely ignored August’s refusal of company and food and had showed up right at dinner time toting a nice box of Cab, takeout containers, and chocolate cookies from the local bakery.
‘Exactly. I should have stopped him,’ August muttered, nibbling a shrimp. She wasn’t very hungry but the smell of Chinese had tempted her into at least a few bites.
‘Because of a feeling? Honey, I do stuff against all my weird feelings all the time. Usually nothing happens. Sometimes it does. I know for a fact that you wouldn’t berate me for doing what you did. But you have no reason to keep crucifying yourself for something you couldn’t have controlled.’
August shrugged. She had no real response.
‘And don’t you think twelve years is long enough to torture yourself?’
Another shrug. A sip of wine. August was exhausted. Her arms were almost too heavy to move.
‘But I do find one part of this story interesting,’ Carley said. She bit into an egg roll and eyed August, those bright green eyes twinkling with what looked like mischief.
‘What?’ August practically sighed.
‘That you actually cared enough to even explain any of this stuff to this guy Jack. That, my friend, is a hurdle you haven’t cleared in ages. You usually feel no need to explain your hermitude.’
August chewed thoughtfully. ‘It seemed right.’
‘Which is heartening!’
‘Don’t get your hopes up, Carley. He’s a guy who I find handsome, I feel attracted to him, but that doesn’t change anything. I’m not ready.’
‘Six years is ages not to be ready. The last roll in the hay you had was with Brian and you cut him loose the moment he started giving you cow eyes.’
‘That was a bad idea anyway.’
‘What was?’ Carley asked. Her red lips were pressed together and she almost looked angry. August found it amusing that Carley often got angry with her on her own behalf. ‘Having a sexual outlet with a guy who was actually kind and cared about you as opposed to Kendall the abusive asshole?’
‘I have bad luck with men.’
‘No. You’re trying, constantly, to fit new men into an Aaron-shaped mould.’
August blinked, dangerously on the verge of tears.
Carley caught the look, sighed and grabbed her friend’s hand. ‘I’m sorry. That sounded very asshole-ish if I do say so myself. What I am trying, in my foot-in-mouth way, to say is this: Kendall was a fluke. A one-off. He’s not the first man in history to be abusive toward an already damaged soul. Brian loved you. Too much and you weren’t ready. You wanted sex, he wanted you. But this guy, this guy is coming along at a good time in your life. Maybe, just maybe, you should give him a shot. It’s been twelve years since Aaron, eleven since you gave Kendall the jerk a shot, and six since you cut Brian loose. You’re young.’
August laughed. Her second bitter laugh of the day.
‘You are,’ Carley said, squeezing her hand. ‘And those are some long years to be alone even with my stellar company.’
‘I can’t.’
‘How about you just think about it? He’s not Aaron, babe. No one ever will be. But he’s certainly not Kendall. Just from what you’re telling me, he’s not. And instead of looking for a safe fuck buddy like Brian…why not look for something real?’
August shook her head and took a sip of wine.
‘Just think about it.’
‘I have.’
‘Liar,’ Carley said. ‘Think about it for real. Think about maybe, just maybe giving him a chance.’
‘But Kendall…’ August knew it was wrong to take his haunting words to heart. That deep down all men were like him. But the fear was a very real thing. She knew it was irrational, but it didn’t change the panic she felt at offering to let a man she didn’t know slip into her life. And possibly into her bed.
‘What?’
‘Oh, the old adage, you know…once bitten, twice shy.’
Carley smiled. I also know the old adage ‘Everything you want is on the other side of fear.’
August stared at her.
‘What? Motivational day-of-the-month calendar, baby!’
August couldn’t help it. She laughed.
August finally ushered Carley out when she’d had enough pep talk.
‘You think about what I said,’ her friend said at the door. Her eyes suddenly serious, her voice soft.
‘I will.’ August would have said anything to regain her solitude.
‘For real. Not just to get me to shut up,’ Carley said. She threw her arms around August and hugged her tight. ‘Because, baby, if there’s anyone out there who deserves some happiness – finally – it’s you. Just don’t blow me off, OK? Really consider giving this guy a shot.’
August hugged her back. Tight. Then shut the door behind her friend and locked up for the night. She hadn’t seen Kendall in ages, but just talking about him had put her anxiety about him in the forefront of her mind. She shut off all the lights, checked the back door, put away the leftovers Carley had insisted on leaving behind. Then she poured herself a glass of wine and wandered upstairs. Once in pyjamas, she turned on a bad serial-killer movie and crawled into bed.
She watched the end of the movie, starring one of her favourite 80s actors, and then, yawning, shut off her bedroom light.
Splotches of streetlight wound their way through her Venetian blinds and she found, annoyingly, that she couldn’t sleep. Instead, she studied the white Rorschach blotches on her darkened walls. When sleep still evaded her, August sighed, and did the only thing she could think of that almost always let her fall asleep.
She slipped a hand down into her pyjama pants and stroked herself softly. Too many years, she thought, feeling only her own touch. She considered herself, secretly, a born-again virgin. She had once joked to Carley that she’d been rehymenated. Carley hadn’t found it nearly as amusing as August had. She’d been horrified and had launched into a two-week campaign for August to find a lover. Since then August had left those weirdly humorous thoughts unexpressed.
Her