Chapter 4

“That was cruel.” I doubt my own validity as soon as the words cross my lips.

I think about the waves I rode for longer than I can recall, nearly reaching the peak ten, maybe fifteen times before I demanded release. And what a release it was.

“No,” I say. “It was perfect.”

I wiggle around so that my lips are near to hers. She gets the message closes her mouth on mine, cupping my breast as she does.

“Thank you, Gabriela. You’re wonderful.”

I drift off into sleep with that thought on my mind. Beautiful Gabriela, the woman who made me scream out her name and demanded nothing in return. I sigh. I think I’m in love.

I wake up the next morning, hoping to return the favor and maybe even have Gabriela screaming out my name.

I roll over to find an empty spot in the bed where she once lay. I sit up and notice a light from under the bathroom door. That explains it. I sink back into the pillow. But when Gabriela emerges, my jaw drops. She’s not just been sneaking a quick pee, she’s dressed to the nines. Gone are the usual jeans and athletic shoes. In their place is a beautiful, form-fitting dress and heels even.

“Hey,” she says. “I’m going to mass. Want to come?”

“Um.” Where do I start?

“I’ve probably got something in the closet you can borrow, but you’re going to have to be quick in the shower.” She gently touches her finger to my arm and smiles. “You need a shower. You stink of sex.”

I think about the shower, and the bare patch of skin between my legs, and everything that happened here last night.

She lifts her finger from me and then runs her hands down the length of her body. It’s probably to straighten any stray wrinkles from the dress she’s wearing, but all I can think about is the beautiful curves underneath.

“After last night…” I pause to collect my thoughts. “I mean, aren’t we, like, sinners or something?”

She shrugs. “I always go to mass on Sundays. When I was a kid, I always went with my parents. Still did even after I got my own place. And after Dad died, Mom and I would always go together. It’s just the way I was raised. I am my mother’s daughter.”

Gabriela moves to the head of the bed and cups my cheek. “You’re welcome to stay,” she says. “I’ll only be a couple of hours. But if you don’t, make sure to go out the back. It’ll lock behind you.” She gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Remember to disable the alarm first.”

The apartment door clicks shut and I am alone. And the longer I am alone, the more the disheartening thoughts begin to creep inside my head. I fell in love with you last night, Gabriela. Okay, so I didn’t exactly verbalize it, but it sure felt like love to me. So, what exactly am I to you? I honestly didn’t know. And if it’s not love, then what was last night all about?

I think about it for another twenty minutes, by her bedroom clock, before I decide to get cleaned up and sneak out the back. As I am getting dressed, I find the wad of bills in my pocket, the twenties that she had so insistently pressed into my hand last night.

I toss the money on her dresser and stomp to the door, muttering an oath under my breath to never let anyone treat me that way again. I am not your whore, Gabriela.

The restaurant is closed on Mondays, so I had one more day to avoid confronting Gabriela, and stew in my anger instead. Probably not the best idea. I really should have come around to see her. It’s not like I don’t know where she lives.

My head knows this of course, but not my heart. And all my heart really succeeded in doing was to put off the inevitable until Tuesday. I still go in at my regular time in the afternoon. The dining room looks sparse, but then again Tuesday is never a really big day in the restaurant business.

“The usual?” she asks me.

I nod, but say nothing.

When she brings the plate out, she puts her hand on the empty chair across from me. “May I?”

I want to say, ‘Go ahead, it’s your restaurant. Do whatever you want.’ But I just shrug instead.

Apparently she takes that as a good enough affirmation, and pulls out the chair to sit down.

“You forgot your money upstairs.”

“It’s yours, Angela. It’s not a gift. You earned it.”

So it’s Angela now. What happened to Angel? My darling Angel.

Gabriela keeps looking in my direction, trying to meet my gaze. I try my best to not give her the satisfaction. Finally, she gives up.

“When you’re ready to tell me what’s got you so upset, let me know. I want to fix this. Whatever it is.” She moves to place her hand over mine. I pull away before she gets there. She slides the chair back and makes her way to the kitchen.

I feel my blood beginning to boil. My hands are shaking. I definitely shouldn’t have left this to stew yesterday, but it’s too late. I take my empty plate and stomp off to the kitchen. Gabriela is busy taking an inventory of supplies in the big commercial refrigerator. I close the door and lean my hand against it.

“You left me,” I say. “You paid me, then you fucked me, then you left me. To go to church of all things.”

“Angel, honey.” She reaches out to me.

I pull away. “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright. Angela. I did tell you this wasn’t going to be easy. This relationship.”

“Do we even have a relationship?”

“Angela, that was low. Of course we do. I paid you because you work for me, you help me in ways that you can’t even imagine. It’s the least I can do.

“And I didn’t fuck you, Angela. I made love to you. When you do it to get yourself off, that’s fucking. When you do it because you care about someone else, and you want them to feel good… that’s making love.”

There is a determined line to her mouth as she finishes relaying this bit of information, but her eyes—her lids are turning red-rimmed, and I feel worse than when this whole thing started.

“And I do care about you, Angela. Even if you don’t believe it. I would never hurt you. I care about you very much.”

“Gabriela, I’m sorry. I—” But I don’t get to finish. There’s somebody standing at the register, ready to order.

Gabriela and I look at each other and sigh—our conversation on hold—walking off in different directions.

It’s not an exceedingly busy night, but there never seems to be enough uninterrupted time to say what it is that needs to be said. So the night goes by with a tight-lipped smile here, and a hesitant glance there, neither of us feeling quite the same as we did before.

At closing, we finally get a chance to talk it out. I text my mom to tell her not to worry, that I’m out with a friend and I’ll be home soon. I don’t know if she believes me or not, but that’s not really on my list of priorities right now.

Gabriela is sitting across from me again, at our little table for two. I rest my hand in the middle and she tentatively touches her fingers to mine. I don’t pull back, and finally she’s cupping my hand in hers.

“I didn’t mean to send you those signals. I can see how you could misinterpret—”

“No, it was my fault. You were right. This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

Gabriela shakes her head.

“Did you mean it? When you said you care about me?”

“Yes. Yes, my Angel, I do.”

“I’m not just a—”

“No. Don’t say that. Not ever.”

Did you even know what I was going to say? Probably. That I’m just a plaything? A quickie? A whore? That’s what she was saying no to. “Are we okay?” I ask.

“Good.” I am pained by what I have to say next. “I have to go. My mom will be worried.”

We spend at least thirty minutes standing at the front door, saying our goodbyes. There’s a lot of hugging, a few tears, and plenty of reassurances. When I finally leave, I am exhausted, but optimistic.

We spend the rest of the week in a fog of lust, sneaking kisses while we can, and waiting for the weekend when I can claim to be staying with a friend again. I’ve chosen Friday night this time so I won’t lose Gabriela to early mass again.

I’ve got a little something special in mind too. It’s taken me a while to get up the nerve, but the web site promised discrete packaging, and I had it shipped to the restaurant instead of home, so as not to raise my mother’s curiosity.

I bought myself a strap-on.

Well, it’s not for me exactly. I’m hoping that Gabriela will be the bearer and that I will get to enjoy being the receiver. Something that I haven’t told her yet is that I haven’t had any other lovers and I’m really hoping that she will agree to be the one.

I remember holding that thought in my heart as I stared at my phone, finger hovering over the order button for the web site. I took a deep breath and mashed my finger onto the screen. There’s no going back now, I thought, the deed has been done.

It’s Friday afternoon and I can’t stop my hands shaking. Gabriella hasn’t said a word about a package coming and I’m left wondering if maybe I got the address wrong. I’m searching through my email for the order confirmation when she presses into me from behind, wrapping her arms around my waist. My phone clatters to the ground.

“Sorry,” she says, releasing me.

I stoop to rescue my phone.

I nod quickly and shove the device into my pocket. I’m wondering if she saw what was on the screen.

Suddenly, I’m not as brave now that I’m standing here next to her. It all seemed so logical when I was alone in my bedroom. I would buy the toy, Gabriela would be delighted that I’d chosen her to be the one, and then what? – We’d live happily ever after in her apartment over the restaurant?

I hang my head to study the floor tiles.

“Angel?” I hear. “Can I show you something?”

Oh, dear God, this is it. The package came alright, and she’s already opened it. Stupid idea. Stupid.

“I want to show you how to work the register,” she says.

I sigh. Oh, is that all?

“I’ve hired a girl, part-time. The daughter of a friend. She’ll start next week, but she’s only fifteen, so she won’t be working a lot of hours.” Gabriela pauses for a moment to scratch the back of her neck. “I’m hoping that she can take over dining room duties and that I can give you some more responsibilities. I’ll be paying you, of course.”

I say nothing for a time. I’m so relieved that we’re not having the conversation about how I dreamed of her taking my virginity, that I don’t know what to say.

“Sure,” I manage finally. “So, I’d be taking orders?”

“Yes,” she says. “It’s not computerized, so you’ll have to write it down on this pad. Make sure it’s legible, ’cause I have to read it.”

She’s behind me now, leaning over my shoulder as she explains this, but I can hear the humor in her voice and know that she’s just teasing me about writing legibly. I can also feel her body pressing into me and it’s making my thoughts turn to packages from online sex shops.

“Now, when you enter it into the register, it will calculate the tax automatically, so don’t worry about that. But you will need to count out change since most of the customers pay in cash. You okay with that?”

“Good,” she says, and kisses me on the cheek. “I won’t be far if you need help.”

“Thanks, Angel,” she says, turning toward the kitchen.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She’s turns to face me again. “A package came for you today. Doesn’t say who it’s from. I put it upstairs so it won’t get lost.”

I think my practicing on the cash resister took about twice as long as it should have. My thoughts kept returning to the package upstairs. There was no getting out of it now.

It was a good night—a busy night. The new girl wasn’t starting until next week so it was just Gabriela and me, as usual. Though this time I was able to ring up orders when she was busy in the kitchen. And amazingly enough, she was able to read my writing. I tease her about that as we begin closing down.