Free Heights of Desire by Mara White Page B

earnestness.
    “How’d they take it?”
    “Mami said I was un pariguayo idiota like my pops. Grandma said you’ like a representation of the things I want in my life, niña buena, inteligente, madura – all that.”
    “And what do you think? Why do you want to be with me?”
    “I’m no good with words.” He folds his arms across his chest, thumb on the outside, the rest of his fingers absconded in his armpit. This is his defensive pose.
    “Try me.” I say. I’ve underestimated my lover.
    Jaylee leans back against the stairwell wall, pensive. He’s trying to gauge the trust, the boundaries in our exchange, the limits of our openness. I know because I am too.
    “A lot of the time I feel like shit. It ain’t for the reasons you’d think - meaning it ain’t my pops or money or anything I can explain. It’s been hard for me – in my life, to think about what’s gonna happen next. Most of the time I don’t fuckin’ care – let it happen.”
    I’m captivated again, by his show of emotion, his ability to be vulnerable in front of me. I realize it takes a huge amount of trust for him to open up to me like this. I reach out automatically and clasp his hand.
    “When I saw you, I’m talkin’ about the very first time, on the playground, now. It was like I seen something different for myself. Like I could see the future and want it too because all of the sudden there was a future for me. I saw it in you .”
    Jaylee looks sheepish and knocks his head back against the wall and cracks his knuckles into his palm. He groans out loud and shakes his head.
    “Fuck,” he says.
    “Too much?” I ask. I’m so moved by his speech that I grab him and kiss him. I almost want to rescind my decline of sex in strange places. I’ll fuck you in the basement, Jaylee. I’ll let you take me anywhere. But I can’t because his confession has given me too much insight to how he really feels about me. It wouldn’t just be a basement fuck to Jaylee. This is real to him and he sees his future when he looks at me. I desperately want to see that future too. I realize, and maybe too late, that this is the glaring difference between Jaylee and me. He sees a future for us – truly sees it – and I can’t even begin to imagine it no matter how badly I want to.

Chapter 8
    R obert is out of town for work, in Las Vegas of all places, when I decide, in a carefree and caffeine-enhanced moment that it would be a good idea to ask Jaylee to come over. It’s been a few weeks since he invited me to meet his family. I text him letting him know that the girls are asleep and Robert is out of town for the rest of the week. He responds immediately saying that he’ll be here in an hour. Where is he that it will take him so long to get here? He lives barely ten blocks from my house. It’s eight o’clock at night; he could be anywhere doing anything. I have no idea how he spends his time. I guess it gives me time to prepare myself for seeing him again. I’ve already showered and shaved and put on my second favorite pair of lace bra and underwear – the first ones became a casualty of Jaylee’s swift removal skills. I consider trying to make us a fancy cocktail or an hors d’oeuvre of some sort. I flip through some cookbooks in the kitchen and decide against it because I don’t know what he likes to eat. I guess in a lot of ways Jaylee is still a stranger to me.
    I pour myself some pinot noir exactly level with the top of the wine glass. I sip off the first inch leaning down over the counter without picking up the glass. Robert calls and I go over my day with him. I don’t have to lie because he doesn’t ask me what I’m doing tonight. He never really asks what I’m doing. Maybe he thinks I don’t ever do anything. Robert might not be alone in his hotel room tonight, either. It’s not that I suspect he’s cheating on me, it’s just that I have no real way of knowing.
    After the first, very full glass I pour myself another and consider