Let's Waste Time

The next day I avoided Chris at all costs. I went to hang out with the guys so that I wouldn’t be home if he tried to talk to me. He never had my phone number, but he had my key. And I didn’t want him to let himself into my apartment and force me to talk to him. I should have realized that he wouldn’t. Chris would give me space if I just asked for it. But I was still anxious about it when I got home. I got settled in and dug through my fridge for something to eat. Then the doorbell rang. My heart began to race. He could have just walked right in. Maybe he was just being kind by ringing the bell.

However, it was just a pizza guy.

“I didn’t order a pizza,” I told him.

“81a,” he said. “It’s already paid for.”

He handed it over and left. I stood there holding the hot box for a moment. I was pretty sure I knew where this came from. So I set it down on the mat out front of Chris’s door and returned to my apartment. I took a shower and made myself ramen noodles. When I was done, I poked my head out just to see what became of the pizza. It was gone. But there was a note under my address marker.

“I’ll be out of town for a few weeks,” it said. I ripped it off but didn’t write back. I didn’t want him to think this was an invitation for a conversation.

I could lie and say that I didn’t care about him. That I didn’t miss him or think about him, and this strange kind of breakup was liberating and a good thing. But the truth was—I missed him. I missed the fun we had together. The once-a-week movie nights. Our goofy conversations. And obviously, I missed the sex. Even when it wasn’t in his desperate attempt to make me feel better about myself, when it was just sex for the sake of sex, it was good enough to miss.

I just didn’t want to risk screwing things up with Trent again. He already lost his trust in me. We had to rebuild, and I didn’t want to make things worse by talking to Chris again.

Chris was only gone for a few weeks, but I actually started to wonder if maybe he’d moved without telling me. It felt like forever. And every time I passed his door, I thought about him. I thought about the sex mostly. But sometimes, I was struck with an odd sense of longing. Not for the sex strictly. But for that one night of intimate closeness we had.

When Trent came to see me again, we pretended it never happened. He only brought it up once over dinner. He just said, “Are you still seeing that guy?”

I told him, “No, he has a girlfriend.” And he let it go.

But when we got back to my place that night, I couldn’t help but feel emotionally detached. I was actually kind of—bored. There was no intimacy. No cuddling. No comfort. No softness. It was just sex. Just sex the way Chris was supposed to be just sex. Maybe we got our wires crossed somewhere.

But I couldn’t think about that. I had to stop that thought before it could fester like a wound. I loved Trent. He was the one I wanted to have a life with. So I’d have to make things work. Even if it meant I had to forget about Chris. Boring sex was a normal thing. Right? Couples had boring sex all the time when they’d been together a long time. So it didn’t really mean anything that he didn’t—I don’t know—actually get me off. Or even really—try.

I didn’t see Chris when he got home. I just knew he was. I was walking up the steps one day when I smelled food coming from his apartment. I could hear music playing through the door. I stood there for a long time, wondering if I should knock and say hello. Maybe I just wanted him to find me, acknowledge me, and assure me that I’d made the right choice. This was best for both of us.

But the door didn’t open, and I didn’t want my greeting to be misinterpreted. We couldn’t even be friends again. Trent would be angry. And we’d probably just end up back in bed, and I’d screw up all the progress I was making with Trent.

But it was normal for things to come along and screw things up. No matter how comfortable I got with my life, something was always dragging me back down to earth. Always some clusterfuck that had to be dealt with. I was born from a clusterfuck. I was destined to make them for the rest of my life. This clusterfuck wasn’t mine, however. And I wasn’t even happy. So it’s not like life really needed to drag me down any more than it already had. I was still feeling pretty terrible and lonely. Even more so now that I didn’t have Chris. I had hope, at the very least.

Trent and I were back to seeing each other on occasion and calling once a week. Chris and I didn’t see each other except for the one time we passed each other on the front steps, and I ran back into my apartment like I was afraid my pants would fall off.

When summer arrived, I found myself thinking about him more and more. I got ready for work in the morning and grabbed my computer bag to lug my laptop to the coffee shop. Since it was summer break, I figured Chris would go back home to be with his girlfriend. Or maybe she’d come visit soon. I don’t know. I just knew they were usually always together when she was on break. But when I opened the door, he was coming back from his morning run. I froze in the doorway. He looked beautiful. Even with his facial hair growing in and all sweaty from running.

“Hey,” I said. It was the first thing I’d said to him in weeks. He’d never given me my key back. Or used it.

“Hey,” he replied. He paused. Like he wanted to say something. I decided I had to get out of there quickly. I had to work, and I wanted coffee. So I couldn’t run back into my apartment. I’d just hurry off to work instead. I shut my door and turned my back to him, intending to just hurry off to the shop. He finished coming up the steps and went to unlock his door.

“Marley?” someone asked. I turned and hiked my bag back up on my shoulder. A man was standing at the bottom of the steps. He was dressed casually. He didn’t look like a typical delivery guy. But times were getting desperate.

“Yeah?” I replied. He ran his hands down his face like he was nervous.

“I’ve been trying to find you for a long time.” Chris dropped his keys. I glanced at him, wondering if he was stalling on purpose.

“Okay—well—you found me. What can I do for you?”

“I um—I’m not really sure what you know about me. Or what you’ve been told. But I wanted to find you anyway. I’m uh—your father.”

I never really understood the phrase “all the blood drained from my face” until that moment. It felt like ice. Slicing right through all my veins. I instinctively took a step back and into my door. Chris had gotten his keys. He stood up straight beside me. He was definitely stalling on purpose.

“What—what are you doing here? What do you want from me?”

“I’ve wanted to know you your whole life. I’d like to get to know you. Have a relationship with you. If that’s ever on the table. I know you knew Avery Johnson wasn’t your real father. I know this can’t be too much of a shock to you.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“It’s a big shock,” I assured him. He looked nervous as he took another step toward me. There was gray in his brown hair, but it was undoubtedly my hair. And his eyes were green. Just like mine. “You—you want a relationship with me?” Chris took a step toward me.

“Marley,” he said. I forgot for a moment that I wasn’t talking to him. I shot him a panicked look. Chris knew how to fix things. Maybe he could make this terrifying stranger go away.

“You raped my mother,” I stated. “You raped my mother, and you want a relationship with me? Are you kidding me?” He looked momentarily shocked. He shook his head slowly.

“Marley, I understand if you hate me, but I promise I never….”

“You think that just because you gave me your DNA, that means you get to be part of my life? It doesn’t work like that!” Tears were already dripping down my face, and I didn’t even notice them start. “I had a father! I had a great dad! I don’t need you! I don’t want anything to do with you! I was perfectly happy pretending you didn’t exist! The best thing you ever did for me was staying far away! Please—don’t ever come back! Please just go away?” Chris put his hand on my shoulder. I gripped his arm.

“Marley, please? Just give me a chance to explain things to you.”

“How dare you use that name! My father gave me that name! I won’t let you explain a single goddamn thing! You raped my mother, you son of a bitch! You ruined my life!”

I don’t know if I made a move for him or what. But the next thing I knew, Chris had grabbed me, got my door open, and pushed me inside. It shut in my face. I tried to yank it back open, but Chris was holding it from the other side.

“Let me out!” I shrieked. I dropped my computer bag on the floor and banged on the door with my fists.

“I think you should leave,” I heard Chris say from the other side.

“She’s my daughter. I have a right to see her. I have a right to defend myself,” the man replied.

“No, you don’t have the right to see her. You lost that right when you hurt her mother.”

“And who the hell are you?”

“I’m someone who cares about her, and I’m doing this to protect her. Seeing you is the last thing she wants, and you’re doing more harm than good by being here.”

“You’re probably right. I should have handled this differently. It’s just—she’s the only kid I have. I wanted to try and make amends.”

“The best thing you can do for her is let her live her life without you.”

“You’re right. I’ll just—I’ll just leave.”

I pushed away from the door and made it about two feet to my bedroom before I couldn’t handle it anymore. I went to my knees and wrapped my arms around my head. The door opened and shut again. I could hear Chris flip the lock.

“Marley?” he said softly.

I didn’t answer because I was sobbing into my legs. It was the kind of crying where everything was sort of leaking from my face, and I had to keep gasping for air to stop myself from suffocating. It was the horrible, intense, violent kind of sobbing. He knelt down in front of me and put his hands on my arms.

“Marley?” he repeated.

“No,” I whined. “No, no, no.”

He moved his hands down my arms and then pulled me to him. I gave in and let him pull me to his lap. He wrapped both his arms around me. I buried my face against his chest and hugged him like a teddy bear. Then I soaked his shirt with tears, and God only knows what else. I was letting out decades of pain and anger, and self-hatred. There were a lot of built-up tears.

But he let me cry every single one of them. He rested his cheek on my head, and he never told me to stop. He never said it was okay. He just let me cry, and he held me as I let it all out. Maybe I told myself that I wished it was Trent. That I wished he’d been there when this happened so I could get the comfort I wanted from someone I loved. But I didn’t want that. I wanted it to be Chris.