Jessie's POV
I am anxious as I wait for Cara. She had to reschedule our meeting several times but eventually settled on today, Saturday.
I stand when I spot her and wave to catch her attention. Her expression remains flat, but she starts to walk toward me.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," she apologizes.
She removes her sunglasses and looks around.
"Let's get out of here," she says.
"Uh?" I am confused since it was her idea to meet here.
"I don't like the crowd here," she says.
It's a country club, members only. I understand her discomfort because, as a kid, I hated places like this too.
"Of course," I say, and with that, we leave.
*****
We end up downtown. We had to park far away and walk. She seems familiar with the area and comfortable. You wouldn't even know she's the daughter of one of the wealthiest men.
We pass by women who holler at us, offering their services at a cheap price. Cara gives them some money, and we continue our walk.
"Oliver used to live here," she says, pointing to a space where a demolished building once stood.
I've heard about their story, but I never imagined it got this bad. I can't picture Oliver living here.
"What happened to the building?" I ask.
"Probably demolished. It would have collapsed at any point," she replies.
We stand and look around. Homeless people are lying on the streets, peddlers look suspicious, and a man is selling things out of his car. I've heard more sirens today than in my entire life.
"How was life for him?" I ask, even though I can guess.
"Hard," she says briefly.
Silence engulfs us as I picture a day in Oliver's life before. I've had my troubles, but I've never sunk this low.
"You see that woman?" she points to a middle-aged woman sitting on the front steps of a rundown apartment.
I nod.
"That's Gina's mother," she says.
Words can't form. The woman looks hopeless and extremely thin.
"Wow, is she okay?" I ask, concerned for her health.
Cara nods.
"She doesn't look fine. Can we help?" I ask.
"It's the bed she made. Let her lie in it," Cara says with a coldness I've never associated with her.
A man approaches Gina's mother. They talk, and after a while, she stands and leads him inside the building.
"Is Gina aware of her mother's condition?" I ask.
I don't like Gina, but I feel sorry for her mother.
"I'm not sure. I just know I can't put it past her," she answers.
"You don't trust her, do you?"
Cara turns to look at me, her eyes trained on me. "There's a kind of pain that alters everything in you. It doesn't hurt, but it destroys the very thing that makes you human. I've felt it. Gina has too. It reduces you into an instrument of survival." She pauses. "And you can't trust anyone whose sole purpose is survival." She concludes.
I remain silent, stunned by her words.
"I hope I can trust you," she says.
I don't answer. It's a request that has never been required of me. By default, I can't be trusted.
"Your silence is loud," she says.
"I don't know what to say," I state.
"That's still an answer," she says, smiling at me. "Do you drink?" she asks.
"Never excessively," I say.
"I know the perfect place," she states.
I turn and look at the building where Gina's mother lives, memorizing its appearance, hoping I won't get lost when I return.
I stumble home, missing my steps. Cara can really hold her drinks. I can't.
The minute I get in, I find Oliver sitting with his legs crossed and his arms folded over his chest.
"Hello, husband... ah... Zak," I slur, and he shakes his head.
"Damn Cara," he curses.
"Why are you awake? Did you miss me?" I ask.
"What did you tell Lucy?" he questions.
"Oh, oh," the words slip out. I take a step forward and then two steps back.
I am never drinking again.
"Yes, oh, oh," he says, clearly pissed. "No one knew about my condition except you and your sister," he says.
"Not even your sister?" I ask, surprised. The revelation almost makes me sober.
I assumed she knew, which is why I never talked to her about it. I concluded the issue was hard to handle, and talking about it might not be wise.
"Not even her, and now it's just a matter of when before Lucy tells her."
He stares at me unblinking. I hate the look of disappointment on his face. I would give anything for him to look at me with admiration, like he often does when he thinks I can't see.
"I'm sorry," I simply say.
I find my steps and sit beside him.
"I wanted to deal with it on my own," he says.
"Why alone when you have people who care?" I ask.
"Because..." he trails off. "I can't have people care. It wasn't the plan," he says.
"You don't want them to care because it means you have to fight not to cause them pain," I say.
He looks over at me and sighs. "I can't afford to hope," he says.
I breathe in and out and turn to him. I take his hand and place it on my exposed thigh. "You have to," I say, getting closer, and closer, until I can nibble his ear. I start leaving trails of kisses along his jawline to the corner of his mouth, then stop. He releases his breath.
I smile.
My hand travels to his crotch, and I see him shut his eyes in pain.
I surprise him when I start to kiss him, and he begins to kiss me back. His hands start to move up and down on my skin, awakening my deepest desires. I take his hand and guide it to my pants, letting him feel the moisture that has formed.
Then, I quickly end the kiss. "Don't you ever want to know how it feels to be inside me?" I say. Now I know why I hate drinking.
He gasps, but I don't stop there.
"I know you want to, but you can't. I want to too," I state seductively, praying that motivates him to seek treatment and not shame him for what he can't do.
I start to kiss him again. "Please," I say between kisses.
"Alright, you win," he surrenders.
My hand slowly moves away from his crotch. His eyes are hooded with desire and pain.
"There are other ways I can give you pleasure," he suggests.
I shake my head. "I'll wait to share that with you once you're healed," I state.
"What if it never happens?" his pessimist side speaks.
"It will," I assure him.
He smiles and pulls me in for a cuddle as the night drifts away.