Page 123
Story: Tell Me What You Want
“Are you trying to tell me that when you sleep with someone else, when he sees that phrase and repeats it, you’re going to think about me?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I’ll probably think about you every time a man says to me, ‘Tell me what you want.’ When I read it on my body, I’ll remember your eyes and how much I enjoyed what I experienced with you when I surrendered to your whims and when we made love.”
My words hurt him. His face flinches, and then he punches the wall.
“This is a mistake. An unforgivable mistake on my part. I should have let you go on with your life, with Fernando or with whomever else you like.”
“Eric! What are you talking about?”
He moves through the room like a caged lion.
“Get your things. You have to go.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I want you to leave.”
“What the ...?”
“I’ll call a taxi to take you to your father’s house.”
“Fuck that,” I say, staggered by the turn this has taken. “Don’t call a taxi. I don’t need it.”
Eric stops moving. He stares at me, and I see the pain in his eyes. I don’t understand him. I want to cry, but I contain my tears.
“Jude ...”
“You just kicked me out, Eric. Don’t even think about touching me!”
“Listen ...”
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
He stands a few feet away from me and anxiously runs his hands through his hair.
“I don’t want you to go ... but ...”
“Look, it’s better if I go.”
“Love ... listen to me.”
“No! I’m not your love. If I was your love, you wouldn’t talk to me the way you’ve just talked to me, and you would be honest with me. You’d tell me who Marta and Betta are. You’d tell me why I can’t mention your father, and above all, you’d tell me what those goddamned medicines are in your toiletry bag.”
“Jude ... please. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”
Now sure that I really want to go, I grab my backpack and stuff my few things in it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see he’s watching me. But again, he proves himself inflexible. His face tightens; his hands shake. He’s nervous, but I’m furious.
“You’re an egocentric ass, and you only think about yourself.”
“Jude ...”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I’ll probably think about you every time a man says to me, ‘Tell me what you want.’ When I read it on my body, I’ll remember your eyes and how much I enjoyed what I experienced with you when I surrendered to your whims and when we made love.”
My words hurt him. His face flinches, and then he punches the wall.
“This is a mistake. An unforgivable mistake on my part. I should have let you go on with your life, with Fernando or with whomever else you like.”
“Eric! What are you talking about?”
He moves through the room like a caged lion.
“Get your things. You have to go.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I want you to leave.”
“What the ...?”
“I’ll call a taxi to take you to your father’s house.”
“Fuck that,” I say, staggered by the turn this has taken. “Don’t call a taxi. I don’t need it.”
Eric stops moving. He stares at me, and I see the pain in his eyes. I don’t understand him. I want to cry, but I contain my tears.
“Jude ...”
“You just kicked me out, Eric. Don’t even think about touching me!”
“Listen ...”
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
He stands a few feet away from me and anxiously runs his hands through his hair.
“I don’t want you to go ... but ...”
“Look, it’s better if I go.”
“Love ... listen to me.”
“No! I’m not your love. If I was your love, you wouldn’t talk to me the way you’ve just talked to me, and you would be honest with me. You’d tell me who Marta and Betta are. You’d tell me why I can’t mention your father, and above all, you’d tell me what those goddamned medicines are in your toiletry bag.”
“Jude ... please. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”
Now sure that I really want to go, I grab my backpack and stuff my few things in it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see he’s watching me. But again, he proves himself inflexible. His face tightens; his hands shake. He’s nervous, but I’m furious.
“You’re an egocentric ass, and you only think about yourself.”
“Jude ...”
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