The story so far:
Things Not Made To Open - 38 by scryier
Koa never went to work for any of the Agencies. She called one, the following morning and they didn't have anything for her. She never called again. She started her six week course for the City and received her Certificate. Lorraine gave her a couple of dollars a day and at night, I'd give her a few more. She seemed genuinely happy. She was soon placed in the home of an elderly Irish man in Bay Ridge. He was a diabetic with a lust for booze. Koa lived there Monday through Friday. She called me to give me his number. On the weekends, she'd go back to Lorraine.
She actually only went back to Lorraine's the first few weekends. The week she was paid she went back to East New York. She went back to Melido. Melido went back to the old man's house, with her. She never reimbursed me for the clothes. Hell, with Melido now living with her and the old man, she never dared to call.
Jennifer also quit calling. She went back to calling my sister, instead. Some kid, fresh out of Law School, started working in one of her brother-in-laws firm. They set him up with Jennifer and he was taking her out for fancy dinners and Broadway shows. I hated hearing about it, but I knew it was best for her. I figured he was clean shaven with tailored clothes. He'd get the Hirsch family seal of approval and the I'll-do-anything sex partner.
I really hated the bitch. She had to be sure I knew every little detail of her life. I would go to my grave with an exact count of Jennifer's lifetime orgasms, if it were up to her. Although, I should have been grateful that she was no longer calling, but even that couldn't last.
"Please don't hang up!"
I had to grin, in spite of the fact that it was one in the morning and I was in the middle of a wonderful sleep.
"I just called to see how you are."
"I'm fine, Jennifer. Why? What's the difference?"
"What's the matter now?"
"I've been really sick, lately."
I found myself grinning.
"The way I hear it, you've been running around with some Junior Perry Mason."
"Dennis. His name is Dennis and he's a very nice guy."
"Then why the hell aren't you calling him?"
"I think I have AIDS," she says and I can't believe I'm hearing this.
"What do you mean, you think you have AIDS? You've taken a test? You're sure it isn't cancer!?!"
"I have all the symptoms!"
I lit a cigarette. It seemed like a good time for a smoke. "So what do you want from me?"
"I want you to come over here. We should both be tested and until the results come in, I want you to stay with me."
I spent the next six weeks with Jennifer. I didn't have anything better to do. I walked out of the room every time Dennis called and felt for the poor bastard. She was dangling him out in left field somewhere.
She wasn't even working anymore. She injured herself on the job. Some heavy patient climbed out of a bed, just as Jennifer walked into the room and started to totter over. Jennifer reached out to catch the guy and she slipped a couple of disks. She was suffering, again. Her back would never be the same.
She was also sick. They couldn't pin down any one reason for it. She had the runs, fever's that came and went. I'm sure it was all nerves, but her Doctor; our Doctor, wanted her to have another AIDS test and she wanted me to take one as well. Jennifer did get stuck with a needle and there was a 17% failure rate. Why take chances?
There was no love making. I wasn't thrilled with being there. Jennifer had a new alarm clock and a T.V. in the bedroom. They were both gifts from Dennis.
"I suppose he sleeps here, too." I said.
"I've let him stay."
"What side does he sleep on?"
Jennifer never answered me.
It was a dumb question.
It wasn't a horrible six weeks, either. Most of the time it was me and Jennifer, like I once thought it would always be. Now and again, she'd ask me if I ever had any intention of leaving the Police Department. If I said no, she'd talk about how I'd never get anywhere. One night, when I'd heard enough, I blew up at her and she started crying.
"I'm sorry," she said. "You're right. I have no right to try and change you."
I looked at her. I suddenly didn't know what I was doing there, anymore. Did she stage this to make sure not having me was all right?
I was finally notified, at work, that the results of my AIDS test were in. I was all right, this time. I suppose there will be other's lovers and other fears, since no one seems to be in any particular hurry to address this nightmarish disease. I called Jennifer and she said her results were the same. She asked if I would come over and I told her I didn't think so.
The next Friday night she called and asked the same.
"I promise," she said. "If you come over, I'll do whatever you ask."
I thought about it. I was bored and so tired of it all.
"Okay," I finally said, "but if you have a touch of clothing on when I get there, I'll leave."
I didn't intend on playing fair. If I went over and showed so much as a trace of the love I felt for her, it would never end. It would go on like this for a life time and never be anything other than what had already been.
I go to the house and she answers the door. She doesn't have anything on. She's both excited and scared.
"Hurry up," she says. "I don't want anybody to see me."
I step in and she closes the door. I stop her from kissing me.
"I'm here because you said you'd do anything I want. I didn't tell you to kiss me."
"I can't kiss you?"
"Later," I add. "First fix me a cup of tea."
She does. I sit down at the kitchen table and wait to be served. She puts the mug down in front of me and I tell her to sit on the floor. I tell her to undo my jeans. I tell her a lot of things over the next few hours and keep on telling her, her reward will come at dawn. We don't have intercourse. There are other ways for her to please me and I don't want anymore of her I'm pregnant calls.
We sleep. I don't hold her. I keep my back to her. She wakes at eight and touches me. I turn around.
"Please make love to me,” she says and I can see the tears welling up in her eyes.
I touch her with my hands. I bring her off very quickly and she wants to know why.
I can't say anything.
I climb out of bed and she’s crying now. It's over. She'll never do anything like this again. I hate her, but mostly, I hate me.
I dress and she is still sitting up in bed looking like all the life has drained out of her. I want to tell her I'm sorry, but I don't. I can't. I can only leave quickly because I'm not very good at this.
Besides, I don't want her to see me cry.
'Things Not Made To Open - 38' statistics: (click to read)