I found this in one of my notebooks. It seems a bit strange to me, because I don't remember when I wrote it, and what influence I was under. I do remember I had a friend that had a little self-published magazine (actually, I don't know if it's dead or alive, at this point, because I have not talked to him in some time) and this is what I gave to him to put in there. So, I was a little upset he took out a whole page when he gave me a copy of the printed material. I can understand printing constraints, though. It wouldn't have bothered me if it wasn't obvious and flowed smoothly, but it didn't. It was a jarring skip. Oh, well, here it is. Also, I find there's something obviously missing from this story, but I can't quite put a finger on it. Maybe, you can point it out. By the way, I hate the guy's name. I associate it with some dickhead from high school.
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When Francesca woke up, she found herself on top of the yellow sheets fully clothed in her little black dress. Her red boa and calf-length black coat were laid out next to her. The jeweled ornaments she wore in her hair were on the table next to her, in-between the phone and herself. Her head was still a little dizzy from getting properly liquored up the night before. It was a post celebration morning and she looked around. It was obvious she wasn't back at her apartment, but Francesca didn't know where she was. On the wall facing her, besides an open door leading to the living room, there was a poster of a famous actress. The actress's tight black shirt was opened low enough to reveal a certain amount of cleavage and suggested little prompting was needed to imagine the rest. It made Francesca briefly think about how this is the last image in this stranger's room that would be seen and dreamt about. She turned to the left. A closet was opened to reveal some bland colored long sleeve shirts and a tie rack, plus shelves of other clothing. Francesca quickly decided it was a man's room, since there were no dresses or other frilly, girly items in the closet. She turned her head to the right. An open bathroom door revealed someone was taking a shower. The sound of the water hitting the tub being the dead giveaway. She listened above the sound of the television blaring from the living room to hear the water suddenly stopped in the bathroom and a male softly humming a tune, which echoed off the bathroom walls.
She sat up on the bed, feeling a little nauseous. Her hangover was a little stronger than she thought. Who's bedroom had she fallen asleep in?
Garrett walked out of the bathroom on cue. He walked over to Francesca and lightly kissed her mouth, a strand of short dark hair sliding across her forehead.
"Good morning, Francesca," he said.
He didn't wait for a response, before moving over to his closet. She didn't know what to think of the situation and found herself curiously watching him. Francesca was surprised, when he took off his bathrobe and exposed his backside to her. This man was treating her like they knew each other for years, but in reality wasn't at all familiar with her. He put on a white tshirt from one of the shelves, then pulled a starched white shirt from the closet. He was calm and relaxed, when he put on his shirt. He took a pair of boxers and put them on, then took a pair of slacks from another shelf. Francesca was somewhat attracted to his orderliness and organization. Everything he needed was there and put in its space. She watched, as he picked up a dotted tie and slid it under his collar.
Garrett turned back to Francesca, then leaned down to her.
"Do my tie, please."
Francesca fixed it for him.
When the tie was done, he picked it up, then took a quick look at it. He looked back at her and smiled, then kissed her cheek.
"Thanks, Francesca. I've got to go to work now. I'll be home around six. I need to buy some things, so I can cook you dinner," he said, before kissing her on the cheek again and walking over to the door leading to the living room. He walked out and left her sitting there.
Francesca thought it was strange he knew her name, but shrugged and turned back to the only table in the room. She picked up the phone and called work, leaving a message with the secretary. Francesca replaced the phone, then almost immediately found herself staring at the poster. The actress's smile suddenly seemed as strange as the situation.
Francesca slowly got up and left the bedroom. Her stomache made a low grumble, as she walked into the living room. The kitchen was off to one side. She walked behind the counter, then over to the refrigerator, which took up the least amount of the space in the kitchen area. She opened the door and was surprised to find there were only two things in the refrigerator. A can of Coke and a pomegranate. After she took out the soda and popped it open, she took a few sips, then set it on the counter. She never laid eyes on a weird-looking fruit like the pomegranate before. The soda alone wouldn't be enough to satisfy her hunger, but there was nothing else in the refrigerator, besides the pomegranate. She took it out, then went over to the counter. A knife stand was there in front of the cutting board. She took the cutting board and set it down, then placed the pomegranate on it. She picked a knife and sliced the strange looking fruit into halves. One half fell onto its side. The seeds being surrounded by the red pulp fascinated Francesca. The pomegranate juice oozed out onto the wood board, seemingly being sucked up by the cracks and crevices. She ran her finger over the half facing her, then tasted it. It was such an odd taste for her, having never tasted anything more foreign than Americanized Chinese cooking. The sweetish tartness of the exotic fruit egged on her curiosity and made her treat herself to one seed.
Francesca stuck out her tongue and took the seed, setting it down gently. The pulp and seed separated into two, when she closed her mouth. She could taste the juice, as it released itself from the pulp and ran all over her tongue. She swallowed the pomegranate seed, then picked up her soda and took a sip. Francesca's tongue tingled and gave her a pleasant feeling.
The enjoyment quickly wore out as Francesca looked down at her hand. Her hand was red and juice was running into the lines of her hand. She went over to the sink and washed her hands, then took a small plate off the dish rack. She set the halves on the plate and went back to the refrigerator. She opened the door and set it back, cut in two and minus three seeds.
Francesca took her soda, then went over to the couch. Garrett had turned off the television, before he left. She turned to the side and found a pillow and a folded Lip blanket next to her. The pillow was in a plain yellow case, which he must have took off the bed, when he laid her down. The blanket was a different story. It was a fuzzy light blue child's crocheted blanket, which appeared a little small for a tall man like Garrett. She forced herself to become comfortable enough to pick up the remote and turn on the television. It was loud, until she turned down the volume to a pleasant level. When she relaxed, she took the blanket and pillow. She laid the pillow down, then lied down and laid her head on it. She set the blanket on the table and watched television. It was mid-movie, until she flipped channels and found something else to watch.
Before Francesca realized it, her eyes closed and she fell asleep.
Francesca woke up and slowly flipped onto her back. She was surprised to find Garrett was standing there, leaning on the couch, his arms folded under him.
"Did you have a nice sleep?"
She nodded.
He leaned forward and wiped a strand of hair off her forehead. "You need to take a shower."
Garrett touched her lips.
"--Don't worry. Someone you know works with me. She lent me some clothes for you."
Francesca was about to say something, but Garrett got up and walked off. She sat up, then got off the couch and went to the bedroom, then the bathroom. Inside the bathroom, there was a simple white dress folded up. A set of white panties was on top of it. Now, she was definitely thrown, as she looked at it and realized these things were from her own closet. He worked with someone who had access to her closet and knew about the situation beforehand. There was two possible people she thought of, but shrugged and started undressing.
Francesca and Garrett quietly sat on the dining room table in the corner of the living room, before he looked at her and smiled.
"I'm sorry about having the refrigerator empty, but I had to test you."
Francesca looked up, then looked at him.
"Test me?"
He nodded.
"Every woman I've wanted to be with. I've tested her," he said.
Francesca took another sip of her drink, then asked, "Did I pass?"
"Yes," he said.
She looked at him curiously. "What was the test?"
"It's stupid. I don't know if you want to hear it."
Francesca nodded.
"I do."
"The Coke and pomegranate test. I put those two things in the refrigerator. The fact those are the only two things that were touched means, to me, that whatever I give you, you would be happy and satisfied. Normally, other women wouldn't touch the pomegranate, then find something else on the shelves," he said, then paused. "But, I was a little worried you didn't eat that much."
"This makes up for it, but how did you know my favorite food?"
"Your friend told me a few of your favorite things," he said.
Garrett looked at Francesca again.
"By the way, how many seeds did you have?", he said.
"Three," she said, without looking up.
"You know what that means, right?"
Francesca looked at Garrett again, cocking her head to the side.
"What?"
"You have to be with me for, at least, three months," he said.
Francesca smiled. Garrett smiled back at her, then went back to eating.
"If you insist, but, if you want to live together, I prefer to have my things with me," she continued
Garrett nodded, then swallowed.
"We can arrange that. A little at a time, although I'm not sure if all your things can be moved into this tiny place," he said.
"We could try."
Garrett looked at Francesca, then smiled at her again.
"Oh, and that poster," she said.
"Yes, of course, Francesca. But, you do know I'm kidding about us having to be together, right?"
"I know. But, I'm not."
They smiled at each other, then went back to eating.
MONTH ONE
Two days after the month had officially come and gone, Francesca was sitting on the couch, when he came home from work. He closed the door, then came over and sat down by her. Garrett undid his tie and the top button of his shirt, then put his arm around her. She turned to him and kissed his cheek. He was about to return the favor, when he turned towards her and found her staring at him. Although there was nothing wrong with him, Francesca still found it strange she could become comfortable and enjoy being around a man like Garrett, especially since two full decades passed between their birth years.
"How did we meet? It's still a mystery to me," she said.
Garrett looked away. Francesca was surprised to still see embarrassment momentarily flash in his eyes, because he told her the story many times.
"I first laid eyes on you waiting for the trolley. We were waiting on opposite sides, when I saw you. You were carrying a plastic bag with you. You never looked back at me, because you were deeply involved in a conversation with someone else. A trolley finally came, then when it left, you were gone," he said, before pausing. "I waited to follow you home to see how you lived, to get to know you, but you had left. I looked at the ground you were standing on. I saw something, so I looked at the tracks to see if any trolleys were coming, then crossed the tracks. 1 found two things. An orange and, this."
Garrett pulled his wallet from his back pocket, then opened it. He took out a card that had her friend's name on it. Francesca looked at it and smiled.
"I love the fact you carry this around with you. If it weren't for her, Francesca trailed off.
"But, it was coincidence that I was at the bar your friends dragged you to," he said, then paused. "They left you in my hands, because I didn't have a drop of alcohol that night. I had to take you home, so I could watch over you."
Francesca nodded and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered, before turning back to the television.
Garrett smoothed a strand of hair off her forehead and kissed her.
Garrett was the first to wake up in the morning. He looked at her and gently undid his arms from around her. He kissed her cheek, then slowly got out of bed. The end of the month coincided with a Saturday. He had the whole day planned. It was not a well-know fact that he popped out of the womb reading romance novels and giving flowers, because he thought it would made him look weak. He had an image to uphold and not many were blessed with seeing this flip-side.
Garrett was married before, but his ex-wife bleeded him of any sensitivity. She didn't want to marry someone that didn't fit her image of what a man should be. In the short time he's been with Francesca, she reminded him of his former self, before he had to pretend to be tough and unemotional, although he still couldn't be completely vulnerable. Garrett knew she wanted him to, but he didn't push farther than the long nightly ritualesque sessions of passionate lip-locking with the clothes on, because he couldn't let their relationship become sexualized, knowing it would be impossible to satisfy Francesca. If they consummated the relationship, he would be forced to relive all the pain and misery his ex-wife took out on him, because he couldn't seem to please her every demanding whim.
Francesca woke up and saw Garrett wasn't in bed. The bathroom door was open and the shower on. A smile came over her face, before she got out of bed and went into the bathroom. The shower curtain was pulled all the way and steam was coming from behind it.
"Garrett, can I join you in the shower?"
"Go ahead," he said.
Francesca took off her nightgown and dropped it on the floor, before pulling back the curtain and stepping inside the bathtub. He turned and moved her in front of himself.
"Close your eyes," he said.
She felt his hand move past her ear, as he reached for something in the corner caddy. He took a shampoo bottle, then opened it. She inhaled the citrus smell, as he poured some into his hand and ran it through her hair. He gently washed her hair, carefully making sure there was not a spot left without shampoo suds. She imagined she was close to an orange tree. A branch was near enough to be reached for and broken off. She would tear the peel and the useless white part off one orange, then enjoy the taste and fragrance. Francesca was relaxed by the image of slowly eating the orange, when she leaned back on Garrett. She put one hand on the side of his thigh. A muscle subtly tensed under her hand. She felt the small semi-slick hairs bristle against her hand, when she moved her hand to the back of his thigh.
"Lean forward," he said.
He gently pushed her forward. Francesca braced herself against the tiles, while Garrett rinsed out the suds in her hair. He flipped each strand forward, running his hand up her neck to make sure each one got clean. The orange smell became less potent as he washed more of it off. She moved one hand off the tile, then felt him behind her. He was almost finished, when she touched his side. She moved her hand near his belly button. Garrett was taken by surprise, but reacted by pushing her hand off and finishing with her hair.
"All done with your hair. You can open your eyes now," he said.
Francesca opened her eyes and flicked her hair back. The citrus smell was still faintly in her hair.
Garrett leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck, then said, "Hand me the soap."
Garrett felt her mild annoyance, when she handed him the soap, but ignored it and started soaping up her back.
Francesca left him alone in the apartment for a couple hours. He went and searched for the stashed away orange. When he pulled it out of its hiding place, it was old. Green and grey mold had formed all over it and it had almost finished decomposing. He didn't want to toss it out, so he put it back in its hiding place and left.
When Francesca finally came home, she was carrying a plastic bag. He looked at her and could detect a subtle smile over her face, while she went over to the kitchen, dropped the bag on the counter and took out an orange. Francesca was humming, while she peeled off the rind and bitter white membrane, before separating it into sections and eating it.
She finished the orange, then put the rest of the things she bought away. When she finally sat near him, he looked at her and smiled at her. She leaned on him, then he put his arm around her and kissed her cheek.
MONTH TWO
Francesca woke up and looked at Garrett. He was asleep. She was frustrated that they still hadn't consummated their relationship, after what seemed forever. She wanted to share every bit of herself and pleasure every inch of him, but he avoided going beyond a kiss. Once, she stopped him to try to take off his tshirt, but she barely had it pulled up an inch, when he stopped her hand. She was worried but flattered that he went out of his way to avoid hurting her, since physicality bonds people. The thing was that he was hurting her by denying it to happen. She needed him to reaffirm the notion of being needed as a woman.
She kissed his cheek, then went to the closet. By then, she had managed to squeeze her clothes into the small, cramped closet. She picked something to wear, then went to the bathroom. Francesca hung her clothes on the hook, then moved over and turned on the shower spray. She sat on the edge of the bathtub. The cold feel of the tub slipped through the thin material of her nightgown. She felt rather lonely. They shared a bed, but there was nothing at all intimate about it. After shrugging and taking off her nightgown, she stepped into the bathtub.
If desire wasn't the issue, then why didn't he want to become intensely intimate with her? She came home from work with the plan perfectly concocted in her head. The perfect romantic dinner always leads to a night of passion. Lasagne with meatballs, salad, brownies; all with a bottle of champagne. She, also, set a bowl of strawberries and cream down on the table.
She was sitting on the bed and in the middle of slipping on a white thigh length stocking onto her leg, when he walked into the bedroom. Garrett smiled, while looking her over, but she didn't notice and had her back to him, while smoothing the stocking on her leg.
"You look really nice."
She turned his way. He had a strawberry in his hand partially dipped in cream.
"Hello," she said.
She walked over to him. He was about to eat the strawberry, but put the strawberry in her mouth. Francesca held his wrist still, as she seductively licked off the cream, then closed her lips around the strawberry. His fingers calmly left her mouth, then he wiped them on his pants.
"I'll take a shower, then we can eat."
Garrett walked over to the bathroom and left Francesca standing there.
Francesca sat at the table, when Garrett walked into the living room. He was wearing regular clothes, which made her feel underdressed in her stockings and slip. She was eating a strawberry, when she looked at him. He pulled up a chair next to her and sat down. She put the bitten into strawberry on her plate and sat back.
"It all looks great. The food. The table. You," he said, then kissed her cheek.
She turned to him and kissed him on the lips.
"Yum. Fruit," he said, after licking his mouth.
He picked the champagne off the table and the corkscrew. He took off part of the wrapping, then popped the cork. He poured into their glasses, then set both down. He picked up his glass and started drinking, then put his arm around her.
"This is so much better than sex," he said.
Francesca was about to pick up her strawberry and finish it, but left it on the plate. She took his arm off, then got up and left him at the table. He didn't know how to react, so he took her bite out of the strawberry, then just sat there, feeling guilty for doing it. He quickly turned and saw her looking at him, before she turned away and walked into the bedroom.
MONTH THREE
Francesca was lying in bed. It was late at night and Garrett was asleep next to her. She turned onto her side and looked at him in the dark. His eyes were closed, when she touched his eyelids. Francesca lightly ran her finger over his hairline, over one thick eyebrow, over the other, over the bridge of his nose, down over his thin lips, over his chin. She traced his jaws, then ran her finger down the front of his neck. She ran her palm over his shoulders, feeling his tone and shape under his tshirt, then continued tracing his body in the dark.
She had her hand moving down over the top of one of his thighs, when she was taken by surprise. Garrett put his hand over hers, stopping it. He moved away from her hand, then sat up and turned on the light. He moved a strand of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear, then cupped his hand under her chin. They looked at each other for some time, before either one said anything.
"I've been awake the whole time," he said.
Garrett's hand left her chin and caressed her cheek, leaving his hand on it. She put her hand over his and closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. He leaned closer and kissed her, then whispered, "You need to sleep. I'm worried that you haven't been sleeping lately."
Francesca let go.
"I get enough sleep," she said.
A pause.
He took his hand off her cheek, then turned away and flicked off the lamp. She lied down, then flipped onto her side, away from him. Garrett moved closer and lied down behind her. He was on his side, when he put his arms around her.
"Is there something wrong with me?", she said.
"No."
"Then, why don't you want to touch me?"
He didn't answer her, but lied there and watched her. Francesca was stiff in his arms and stared at the bathroom door.
A few minutes passed before she undid his arms and got off the bed, then left the bedroom. Garrett just lied there. He closed his eyes, but heard the television turned on in the living room and listened to the voices.
Some time passed, then he got out of bed and went into the living room. He stood there, while his eyes adjusted to the light. When he could see, he saw Francesca was staring at him. She had tears in her eyes and looked away, when they locked eyes. He looked at her, but didn't know what to say.
A pause.
"Are you hungry?"
Francesca nodded, then said, "A little."
"I'll see what we've got."
He went over to the refrigerator and opened the door. A huge bowl of grapes were there, along with half a bag of cold popcorn. He took both out and went over to the couch. He set them on the table, then sat down near Francesca. He put one hand on her shoulder, rubbing it. She put her hand on it and stopped it, then took his arms and slid them around her waist.
"Why don't you desire me?"
"I do desire you. That's not the problem," he said.
"Garrett, what is the problem?"
Garrett held on tighter to her.
"I just don't think I could satisfy you."
Francesca turned around in his arms, so they faced each other. She ran one hand through his hair, then gently pushed Garrett back and moved onto his lap. She slowly undid his arms from around her, then slid her hands under his tshirt. He resisted at first, but gave in, when he saw the reassurance in her eyes, and let her slip it off.
Both of them were lying on the couch and Francesca was feeding Garrett grapes one by one. His arms were around her, as she lied on top of him. After she fed him three more, she set the rest back, then kissed him all over his face.
"I've got an idea. Why don't we call in sick and celebrate this special occasion?"
Garrett grinned.
Both of them lied there, looking at each other, and said nothing else.
