Chapter Seven
Paul got in the shower while I put my clothes in the dryer and then I got in when he got out. The easy, playful feeling that had been between us just before and just after we slept together was gone and had been replaced with a somewhat awkward silence. I guess that’s the problem with sleeping with someone you hardly know, you’re left with so many questions. When my clothes were dry I put them on and he said,
“My nephew will be home in about an hour. Do you want me to drive you home, or back to the gym?”
I didn’t really want to be seen back at the gym looking like I just took a shower. I loved my friends, but the second they saw me getting out of Paul’s truck in the condition I was in, the rumors would begin to fly. “My apartment is fine. I’ll call one of the girls for a ride to work tomorrow. We’re probably just going to be doing clean-up all day anyways.”
Once we were in the truck I told him how to get to my apartment and then we drove in silence again. I sat wondering what that day meant…if anything, and where we were going to go from there…if anywhere. I also wished that I knew what he was thinking. Was he sorry that we’d had sex? Did he regret having sex with me knowing that he’d have to see me nearly every day while he was at the gym working out? I wasn’t as brave as I’d been earlier…I couldn’t bring myself to ask him. Maybe it was because I was worried about what the answer would be. Maybe he was the love ’em and leave ’em type. Maybe he had a lot of sex with a lot of women with no intentions of ever getting into a relationship. Maybe if I asked him if we were in some kind of “relationship”, he was going to think I was desperate and ridiculous. The worst part was that then I’d still have to look at him every day and hope that he didn’t tell anyone else.
I just couldn’t turn off my head and all of the questions. Why isn’t this gorgeous man in a relationship at twenty-six years old? Wouldn’t that in itself have been an indication to me before I went and slept with him that he either doesn’t believe in relationships or he’s such a wrecked, troubled person that no woman can stand him long enough? I mean, I don’t even know this guy, really. What I do know about him is that he’s angry a lot and he likes to fight. I don’t only know the bad things, though. I know that he takes care of his sister and his nephew too. I wish I only knew the good or the bad at this point. Knowing both only complicated things, for me anyways. A “normal” person might not have all this angst. Relationships were not my strong suit. I’m attracted like a magnet to men who had problems. I honestly don’t go into the relationship thinking I’m going to “fix” him, but once I’m in it and I find out he’s broken, I have a hard time walking away. That would even be okay if I had a history of any luck “fixing them.” We both just end up broken by the time it finally ends.
Maybe when Yolanda picks me up for work in the morning I should talk to her about it. First of all, I should find out if he’s a player. Has he already slept with all the single women at the gym? Second, I need someone to help me decide whether or not I’m attracted to this guy because he has problems. My last relationship was fraught with enough problems to last a lifetime. I just don’t want to do that again.
When we got to my apartment I expected him to leave the truck running and let me jump out. Instead, he shut off the truck and got out and walked me to the door. It was things like that that confused me. He hardly talked, yet when he did he was articulate and usually polite. He was a wild man in the cage but in bed that day he’d been sweet and gentle and attentive…
“Do you need a ride to work tomorrow? I wouldn’t mind picking you up—”
“No!” Dang it! I said that too fast. It was rude. “I mean, no, thank you. Yolanda and I have some things we need to talk about so I think I’ll just ask her. She won’t mind.”
“All right, I guess I’ll see you later,” he said. It was awkward and uncomfortable. Was I supposed to kiss him? Was he going to kiss me?
“Okay, thanks.” For the ride? The sex?
“Yeah, you too.” Me too what?
I unlocked my door and turned to watch him leave before going inside. Once I was in I closed the door and leaned up against it. Damn! What did I get myself into?
I went over and took out my laptop. I signed into my You Tube account and typed in MMA and Paul Delport. There were a lot of videos going back to 2009. I clicked on one of the most recent ones and watched it. He was incredible. He was so fast that his opponent needed a lot of luck just to be able to catch up with him and connect a punch. I watched another one and found myself in awe of the power behind his punches and his kicks. There was no throwing it here and there and hoping it landed. Every punch and every kick was perfectly timed and infused with power and control. I was completely surprised at myself for finding it so sexy. Truth be told, so far I hadn’t found anything about him that I didn’t find sexy.
I shut off the videos and sat there thinking about our afternoon together. Maybe we only had sex because I’d basically thrown myself at him. “Go with your impulses,” I had said. Could I really blame our time together that day on him being a player? It didn’t seem like he’d been trying to lure me back to his place for sex. When he had gone with his impulses like I’d told him to, his touches had been so far removed from what I watched him do in the cages last night and what I’d seen him do in these videos. He was still great at it and experienced without a doubt, but there was no hint of anger or aggression or control there. He was a true enigma and I hated to admit it, but that made me want him even more.
I forced myself to try and think about something else. I finally had a day off and my paycheck should have gone into the bank that day. I picked up my phone and googled “washing machine repair.” I got like two million hits in the city. I blindly picked one and called him.
“Hal’s appliance repair.”
“Hi, I have a washing machine that I need to have fixed.”
“What’s wrong with it?” the guy on the other end asked me.
I laughed and said, “Well, I was hoping you could tell me.”
He laughed too and said, “Yeah, you would think, right?” He laughed again and said, “I meant to ask what is it doing, or not doing?”
“Oh yeah, sorry. It doesn’t agitate or spin at all. It just fills up with water and then just sits there. I had to bail the water out with a pot because it was just sitting there and starting to smell.”
“Okay, I have a few ideas,” he said. I hoped they were inexpensive ideas. “I can come by around three today if someone is going to be there.”
“Three is good. Thanks!”
I hung up after giving him my address and my thoughts instantly returned to Paul. I was sure he had problems…he had to. He told me about his sister and how she’d done some of what she did just because she was rebellious. He told me himself…at least he hinted at the fact that he didn’t have a good relationship with his dad. That’s usually a good clue, the parental relationship. My last boyfriend hated his mother. I found out late it was because she was a religious fanatic and she used to constantly tell him that he was going to hell every time he did something wrong. I felt bad for him when I found that out and I realized that was probably the source of his problem. He was an alcoholic. He was twenty-seven years old and had health problems like a fifty-year-old because of it. He was in and out of trouble because of it and I had to drive us everywhere we went toward the end because he had so many DUIs that they took his license away.
I’d done everything I could think of to get him into a program. I’d researched alcoholism and I’d shared my knowledge with him. I’d researched programs and I’d shared that knowledge with him as well. He wasn’t open to hearing any of it and once I finally decided that if he wasn’t going to go into a program or even AA, I wasn’t going to continue to do all the things I was doing for him, the fight was on. He didn’t go away, that would have been too easy. He was on my doorstep, at my work, on my phone…crying and begging and then accusing and cussing and then crying and begging again. It nearly drove me to drink before he finally got arrested for driving his sister’s car drunk and getting into a fender bender. Thank God he didn’t hurt or kill anyone, but since his blood alcohol level was twice the legal limit and he was driving on a suspended license with three prior offenses, he’d gotten jail time. The phone calls finally stopped only after I called the jail and told them he was harassing me. I don’t think I have the strength or resolve to handle another relationship like that.
I headed into the kitchen to fix some lunch. I’d all but decided that I needed to end it with Paul now before we got to the point where I found out what was wrong with him and resolved to fix it. I knew myself too well to let it go that far. Before I made it into the kitchen, there was a knock on my door. I looked at the time. It was way too early to be the washing machine guy. I wondered if it was Paul. He’d only left ten or fifteen minutes ago. Maybe he was doing as much thinking as me and coming back to tell me what conclusion he’d come to.
I went out to answer the door telling myself that I was going to end it that day, once and for all. I pulled open the door and felt my heart drop into my stomach. It wasn’t Paul on my doorstep. It was Mitch.