Differences

Ryan laid on the couch for a very, very long time. Her black cat Iverson came and went several times and all she did was lay there, petting him when he hopped up on her stomach. She wasn’t sad or hurt or upset she was just completely and utterly bored. She could say a lot of things about Michael, but he had been taking up quite a bit of her time and now that he was gone…she almost felt at a loss as to what to do with herself.

She laid there until the sun went down and the only reason she got up at all was because she was starving. She went into the kitchen for food, but all she found was left over ingredients for recipes she had neither the desire nor skill to make. She pulled open the freezer and found an ancient microwave dinner. It wasn’t expired so she popped it in the microwave, leaning her elbows on the counter as it cooked, sighing for about the hundredth time that day.

She ate the shitty food wrapped in plastic at her kitchen table and was stunned at how quiet the house was. She heard Iverson padding around the living room, but other than the sound of her chewing, that was it. It was kind of creepy, in the very least unsettling. She was used to Michael, who was not a loud man, but he did talk a lot. Without him the house she called home felt very empty.

Then, suddenly she was just incredibly annoyed with herself for thinking this way. “I lived alone for years and none of this bothered me. I’m perfectly happy by myself.”

Iverson came into the kitchen at the sound of her voice, but just stared at her a moment and walked away. “Fuck you, too. Actually, I take that back. You’re just independent like your mother. You don’t need any human and I don’t need one either.”

She ate the rest of her food almost angrily and then went upstairs to get into bed, determined to not let anything bother her.

And yet, without Michael in bed next to her she felt…cold.

“Fucking ridiculous,” she grumbled to herself as she flipped over and tucked the extra pillow against her body. “Ninety goddamn degrees outside and I am NOT cold.”

Except…she was. She had gotten so used to his big, warm body that even in July, in the sweltering heat and with no air conditioning, she still felt colder than she should have. She was sweating, but not as much and there was no one to share it with. Normally their slick bodies pressed and moved together, creating more heat, more sweat, until the sheets were soaked and they both needed a shower.

She let out another sigh and rolled onto her back, still talking to herself. “Alright, I see what’s going on here. My body got acclimated to him, that’s all. That’s why I feel cold, even though it’s hot and why everything seems quieter, because he’s not here making noise. All I need's a few days and I will reacclimate to my old life. No problem.”

She went to sleep with this thought in mind, convinced that in a few days, she would feel good as new and none of this would be bothering her. The good news was that her camp started this week, so when she got up, she took a shower (which felt bigger), ate breakfast (not a home cooked meal), and went to the community center to work.

This was a relief because the kids were so loud and needy that she didn’t have to think of anything else, let alone Michael Raffl who was probably by now in Europe fucking gorgeous European women on nude beaches. Okay, that was a new sensation. Was she actually jealous? No, she thought, I am not jealous, no fucking way, he can do as he likes.

She shook her head, trying to lose the thought altogether and bring herself back to focus on her job. But it wouldn’t be shaken loose so easily. He claimed he didn’t want to see anyone else, but what if he did? Men lie all the time, especially about stuff like that. What if he didn’t care about seeing his parents at all and this was just an excuse to fuck women and drink beer all day and night?

“Bullshit.”

“What did you say, Ms. Ryan?”

She was surprised to see a child staring up at her and she realized she had said that out loud. “Nothing, Amy.”

“I think you said a bad word.”

Damn. “If I give you a dollar will you forget that I said it?”

Amy nodded and Ryan went to purse, grabbed a single, and handed it to the little girl who went running off in a cloud of excitement. Meanwhile, Ryan was left alone with her thoughts again.

She tried to be rational. What did she care if he slept with other girls? They weren’t dating, she didn’t want to date him…right? So then why did the idea of him with someone else make her blood boil. Maybe the thing was, she didn’t want to date him, but she didn’t want things to change. She had liked what they had been doing and then he had to go and fuck it up by leaving. She wasn’t jealous, she thought again, she was pissed that he had insinuated himself into every aspect of her life and then left her alone.

As if on cue, Ryan heard her phone buzz in her purse. She had a new voicemail, from guess who?

“Hello, sweetheart. I landed safe and sound, no worries. I already sent you a letter so you should get it soon. Don’t worry about writing me back, I know you’re busy. I don’t care if you want to hear it, I’m going to say it: I miss you. I hope you miss me, but I won’t hold my breath that you’d actually tell me if you did. Enjoy your camp, go see Contessa’s mom, and make sure you think of me when you touch yourself, which I expect you to do quite often since I’m not there to do it for you.” There was a pause and she thought he was done, but then he said, “Do what makes you happy, Ryan, but please believe me when I say that there’s not a woman on this continent who can even hope to compare to the way you make me feel. I emailed you my return flight information and I’ll see in a few weeks, alright? Okay…bye.”

Her voicemail automation asked if she wanted to delete the message and she hesitated before saving it. Even more frustrated, she threw her phone back in her purse.

She had just spent the whole morning convincing herself he was out galavanting with other women, but now she had this message to think about. Was he telling the truth? Did she even care if he was? She told herself she didn’t care (a lie) and thought about his last comment. Do what makes you happy was clearly intended to imply sleeping with other men. Ryan put aside thoughts of what he might be doing and thought about that instead.

When he was here she had no desire to see other men, which was strange in and of itself. Now that he was gone, she could do as she liked. He had given her permission, not that she needed it, but he had given it. Did she want to sleep anyone else? It had been so long since she tried to pick up a man she felt out of practice and wasn’t even sure she could do it if she tried. Then again, it was never that hard.

A little hand was tugging her arm and she snapped out of her thoughts once again and went back to work. She finished out the day, said goodbye to the other volunteers and took the train home. Once there, she decided to do something about all the insanity running through her head.

She showered again and got dressed, this time in a pair of very short shorts and a tank top. She slid on pair of flip flops, braided her hair down one side and went out. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she ended up a bar she used to frequent fairly regularly before Michael had come into her life and eliminated her need to go trolling for men.

The bartender Sarah was still working there and she gave Ryan a friendly nod. “Hey, shot of Jack and a water, please.”

“You got it.”

Predictably, it didn’t take long before a man took the stool next to her and give Ryan his very best ‘I’m about to hit on you smile.’ She returned it with one of her own and took the shot Sarah had put down in front of her.

“Can I buy you another?”

Ryan looked him up and down, pretending to think it over. “Sure. Jack Daniels.”

“The lady has good taste. Two please, Sarah.” He back to Ryan, offered her his hand. “Jeremy.”

“Brittany.” Ryan’s number one rule of casual sex, never give them your real name.

“Cute. You look like a Britt.”

Ryan wanted to roll her eyes at the line, but she just smiled instead. “My mom thought so, too. So, Jeremy, what do you do?”

He grinned and they launched into the typical first conversation topics, during which Ryan lied about pretty much everything. She told him she was a middle school teacher, history. When he said he hated hockey, but loved basketball she agreed that hockey was dull, though she actually did like basketball so they talked about that for a while. He spoke about his parents and she told him about Contessa’s mother, passing her off as her own parent. This circle of babble went on until he was eyeing her up like he was ready to leave.

Here, Ryan hesitated. He was cute: tall, dark hair, nice cheekbones, and a killer smile. He was a construction worker so he was well built. And she had come here looking for sex, but faced with the reality of it, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Jeremy, would you do me a favor?”

“Anything, sweetheart.”

She wanted to cringe when he called her that, but just said, “Kiss me.”

His sly smirk returned. “Right here?”

“Yes. Right now, just kiss me.”

He leaned forward, one arm on the bar the other hooking around her neck to draw her in and then he kissed her. Ryan had to admit, he was good. He had a lovely, talented mouth that under normal circumstances would have had her panting and wet in no time flat. This time, however, she felt less than nothing.

She let him finish, it was only polite, and when he was done, she hauled out $20 and put it down on the bar. “This isn’t gonna work, sorry, Jeremy.”

She stood and he stared at her in stunned awe. “You’re joking.”

Clearly the man was not used to hearing no for an answer, certainly not after a kiss like that. Tough luck, she thought. She patted his cheek. “Sorry again. You just don’t do it for me. Nothing personal. Good luck.”

Ryan walked away from him, walked back to the train station, then walked home from there. She flopped into bed and sighed deeply. She felt…dirty. That kiss was nothing, not in that it made her feel nothing, but that it was harmless. So why did she feel so bad about it?

Honestly, it had overall been a terrible day, one that she would like to forget as soon as possible. She checked her phone, Michael hadn’t called again, which wasn’t surprising since he said he wouldn’t be calling her except to say he had landed. She logged into her voicemail and listened to his message again. Then, even more confused about everything, she went to sleep.

She had a string of days like this, work, bars, kissing strangers, and going home alone and feeling slightly bad about what she was doing, but not bad enough to stop, apparently. By the end of the week, she felt like she was just going through the motions, bored and restless. Contessa must have felt it, because that was they day she called.

“So…how are you doing now that your lover is on his Euro vacay?”

“I’m…” She was going to say fine, but that wasn't right. She never lied to Contessa, so she told her what she had been up to, everything she had been up to.

When Ryan was done, Contessa sighed and said, “Babe, can you just talk me through your thought process? Because it seems like you don’t want to sleep with someone else, right?”

“I mean…not really. But the problem is I feel like I should want to sleep with someone else and I’m confused as to why I don’t.”

“God, you are so fucking dumb, honestly. You like Raff, that’s why!”

“Ugh, please don’t -”

“No, I’m going to, because I am sick and tired of this bullshit. You like him, okay? You miss him. You want him to come back to you and never again, right?”

“I don’t know! Stop fucking yelling at me!”

Contessa’s tone softened considerably. “Ryan, baby doll, I love you so much, but you are killing me. You have to open up, I know it’s hard, but -”

“You don’t know jack shit. So don’t act like you do.”

“Fine, I don’t know, because I’m not you, but I am your friend. I remember when we first met and I didn’t think you would let anyone in, ever, but you did. You let me in, and my mom. You’re right, I can’t ever know how hard this is for you, but I do know that it’s possible. And if there is one person who deserves for you to try and do it again it’s Raffl.”

“I…what if he doesn’t deserve it? What he’s in Budapest fucking hot Hungarian girls, huh? What if he’s not the good guy that everyone seems to think he is?”

“He’s not fucking other women, I can guarantee you that.”

“How do you know? You have no grounds to base that on.”

“I don’t, but there’s this thing called faith that means you believe in something without proof. Your brain is telling you not to trust him because of what’s happened to you, and I get it, I really do, but you need to tell that part of you to turn off and have faith in him.”

“I can’t just do that, it’s not that easy.”

“Oh, darling, I never said it was easy, but you have to try. Think about it this way, if you believe in him and he lets you down the worst thing that will happen is you lose him. But if you don’t believe in him, you’re gonna lose him anyway.”

Ryan felt the truth of that in her very bones. She could see in the way Michael looked at her that he wasn’t going to keep doing this for very long. And she also knew that her mind was inventing things to make her distrust him, because that’s just what Ryan did so she never had to let anyone get too close. At the same time, she really did want Michael back in her life, she didn’t want to lose him.

Quietly, she admitted, “You’re right. I just don’t know how to do this. I don’t know if I can. I don’t even know how to start.”

Contessa wanted to say a prayer of thanks to every god ever worshipped because this was something she could work with. “I’ll tell you how. First off, stop kissing random men, stop going to bars, stop cruising for sex.”

“Right, that would probably be a good start.”

“Second, admit that you like the man, for fuck’s sake. Not just to yourself, admit it to me, right now.”

“Yeah…” Ryan knew that part was true, but even saying it to someone not Michael was so difficult. She managed, “I…do. I like him.”

“Thank GOD! Third, tell Michael, please? His heart will probably explode with joy, it will end world hunger, bring peace to the universe, and make flowers bloom he’ll be so happy.”

“I’m sure it will, but that’s not that easy.”

“Turning your brain off, not easy. Saying the words, ‘Raff, I like you’ is easy.”

“Not for me, babe, it really isn’t.”

“Ry, trust me, you probably won’t even have to say very much. Just…give him a hint, a gesture, something anything, throw the dog a fucking bone and I bet he’ll take it from there. He knows you by now, he knows you can’t communicate easily and I highly doubt he’s expecting a declaration of undying affection. If you can’t say it, you need to find a way to tell him without words. And I’m not just talking about sex.”

“Well, fuck, if I can’t say it and I can’t suck his dick to tell him, what am I supposed to do?”

“You’ll figure it out. Use your imagination.”

“I’m over this already.”

“No, you’re not. You are gonna be okay, my dear, I promise. Just take a breath, take another, do some yoga, go for a run, clear your head. Don’t think about all the bad shit he may possibly be doing, which he’s not, by the way. Have faith, trust in him, and trust yourself. Because you can do this. You’ve done it before. You can do it again.”

Contessa’s pep talk went on for a very long time, but it was starting to hit home. By the time Ryan hung up, she was almost thinking clearly. She did like Michael, she liked having him around, she even missed him, she would admit that to herself. The problem was not that she didn’t feel anything. Michael had it right, she feels things very deeply. The problem is letting someone else know what she feels, because that only leads to trouble, as far as she was concerned.

The next day, she didn’t go to the bar, she stayed home and read Michael’s letter that she had gotten in the mail that afternoon. It was long, handwritten on thick stationary with his family’s name emblazoned in calligraphy on the top border.

She had saved it until after dinner so she could read it in bed before she went to sleep. Here is what he wrote:

“Ryan, my darling dearest, I write to you from the heart of the old country, my real and truest home, the only bit of land on this wide earth that calls to my very soul…I’m just kidding, sweetheart, I hope you laughed at my exaggerated introduction.” She had laughed, she was proud to note. “I am home, though, really home. There is something about this place that never fails to make me feel a little sentimental, thus the emotive beginning to this letter, which was meant as a joke, but is not entirely untruthful. Where to begin? I only just arrived so not much had happened, but I will tell you a few things that occurred today. My parents are well and they send their love to you. Yes, I told them all about you. Don’t worry, not what we’ve been doing all summer, but just that I have met the most incredible woman who makes my heart feel both full and light at the same time, a woman who is the very embodiment of grace and beauty, and one who makes the world a brighter place simply by existing in it. No, I’m not talking about our darling Contessa, I am talking about you. I will pause while you roll your eyes at these unwelcome compliments.”

Ryan dutifully rolled her eyes and read on. “You are all of these things, but also a difficult woman, you know this. I would tell you this sort of thing daily, hourly if I could, but you have noticed that I do not, because I respect your wishes that we remain merely friends…for now. However, here, thousands of miles away with an ocean between us, surrounded once again by my family and oldest friends, I feel bold enough to write them to you. I hope you don’t mind. And if you do, well, you can suck it up and take it like a woman.”

Ryan laughed loudly at his comment as she could almost hear him scoffing at her to deal with it. She flipped the page over and continued. “I would say that I miss you, but I already said it once in my voicemail and I don’t wish to be trite with the phrase because I feel it will lose all value for you if I am. But I do, miss you, more than I thought I would. I miss your voice, especially your tone when you call me an idiot. I miss your hair, my God, Ryan, you have the most lovely hair I have ever had the pleasure of touching. I miss your smile, your real one, not the sarcastic one, but the one you project from your heart. I miss your small breasts that are never covered and I think about them pressed against your t-shirt a few times every minute of everyday, especially now that I am separated from you. Oops, I fear this has gotten a bit raunchy already. Shall I go on in that vein, sweetheart? Are you already wet just from those few simple statements?”

God, how did he know? She had gotten excited simply seeing his handwriting and now just the word ‘breasts’ had her charged up and ready to go. He knew her so well. He went on, “Ah, I think I shall, because I can picture you now: in bed, probably just a t-shirt and panties on.”

This was also true and Ryan thought for a moment about looking around for a hidden camera, but she just read on. “Mmm, I can imagine it perfectly. You are always so lovely in bed, your hair wild, but silky smooth, your long body begging for my touch on every inch of your skin, the way you spread open for me with the only the slightest provocation…now I know you are wet, am I right?”

As silly as it was, Ryan gasped out loud, “Yes,” as if he could hear her answer. She shifted lower on the bed and peeled off her panties so she would have easy access to her cunt when she needed it. Michael wrote then, “You know what I like about this? I’m writing this in my parent’s office, at my father’s overly large desk, my pants are shoved down, my cock hard and throbbing between my thighs and I pause this writing occasionally to stroke it to thoughts of you. But I was telling you about why I like it…Well, my sweetheart, I am doing this today, but I don’t know when you will receive this letter, it could be three days, it could be a week. I will have no idea when you read it or what you will do, but I hope, I pray to God above that your fingers find the warmth I miss so much and feel your wetness grow with every word I write.”

Ryan let the first few pages of the letter fall to the bed. As he hoped, as he prayed, her fingers sunk into her pussy, sliding through the wetness he created with the letter written a week ago. She thrust a few times and then picked up the next page.

“So that is what I like about this. I will spend the next week, maybe more wondering every minute if you’re reading it now…or now…or maybe now. I assume I will be hard the entire time we are apart, because I have already released twice today and felt no relief. Whether it’s true or not, I will imagine you wet for me the whole of our separation as well. Except when you are teaching, of course, that would be a perversion of inapproriate proportions if you were aroused while shaping young minds. Laugh again at that, sweetheart, and I will imagine it now.”

She managed a breathless chuckle, but read on because she was so very close to finishing. “Now, what was I talking about? Oh, yes…you and how I do adore how wet you get for me. I know you have known other men, but I often fantasize that I am the only one who affects you in this way, to this magnitude. Maybe I am, I’m sure you will never tell me for fear of boosting my ego. I digress, I was speaking of you. I know I said I wouldn’t say this at all, but now I am saying it yet again, I miss you. I miss how your body is always, always open and aching for me. Always, Ryan. I miss the pungent taste of your cunt that makes me salivate just thinking about tasting you for hours. I miss the way you whine, I miss the way you plead with me, I miss the way you tremble under my delicate touches and hard thrusts.”

Ryan wanted to keep going, she really did, but she was coming so hard and she had to stop because her eyes closed and her body rose to meet her hand as she rubbed herself to completion. She was still breathing heavily when she picked up the letter again and then started to giggle, because he was spot on again.

“I imagine you’ve come by now, you must have, if not I will question all my skills as a lover. If you haven’t, please, close your eyes and imagine me there, hard inside you, gasping breaths in your ear and pinching your nipples until they are hard and red. Have you come? I have no idea and why does that thought make me even harder for you? I want you to know, I have now come three times while I wrote this. It took a long, long time to get it all down on paper because my mind was distracted, my hands busy.”

Ryan could see it, his long fingers wrapped around his cock as he tried to write, but stopping and starting so he could jerk his cock. She was about ready to go again as well and she understood his repeated releases now. She read the final page.

“Enough of that, I am convinced you have come and if not, there is not much more I can do. Tomorrow my brother and I are going to play hockey with a few old friends. Then, we will have lunch with our parents, then…I have no idea. Maybe I will go out, see the town that I love after dark, but then I think, what is the point? I told you once, I will say it again, I have no desire for any other woman but you. None can compare and I refer not to your beauty or loveliness, but to your life and passion, my dear. I told Del Zotto that you make me feel alive when we are together and nothing is more true. You are made of fire and ferocity and it makes me both envious and amourous. I wish that I could live as you do: fearless and strong, blunt and honest. You think so little of yourself and that’s what breaks my heart, because you are so much and more. You are, as I said, the most incredible woman I have ever known and that is why I stay, why I will stay. Alright, I have gone on too long and you may not have even made it this far. I will write again tomorrow so prepare for another letter soon. I am sorry for this waste of paper, but as I said, I find my tongue loosened being here while you are there. Forgive my sentimentality, even though I assume you already knew what I felt for you, even if I never said it. I am saying it now, because…well because I can, because you are not here to shut me up with words or kisses. Honestly, this has gone on long enough and I am truly done now. I don’t know what time it is for you as you’re reading this, so I will say good morning, good afternoon, good night.”

Ryan reassembled the letter and folded it back up. She tapped it against her lips, thinking about everything he had said, everything Contessa had said, everything she was feeling. She was not thinking more clearly, but she was, at least, a little happier.

Perhaps she would believe him, that he was not out chasing girls. He sounded sincere and he was right, she was forced to take his compliments, his sappy declarations because she wasn’t there to shut him up. She could have stopped reading, but she didn’t want to. In fact, she wanted to read his letter again. She had to admit, letter writing was an art and he was a master. She wanted to tell him what she liked about this: that rather than phone sex that was over and gone too soon, she could revisit his words anytime she wanted. The man was across the world and yet he had made her feel his closeness with just pen on paper. Pure magic.

She decided that maybe, just maybe, this was a man she could trust. Was she going to date him? Well, honestly, who the hell knows? Certainly not Ryan. She didn’t know what was happening in her otherwise simple life, but she was happy and she would figure it out. They would figure it out when he got back.

She put the letter back in its envelope and set it on her nightstand. She looked at her phone, checking the world clock. It was about 4:00 a.m. in Austria and as she settled into bed, she tucked a pillow under her chin and whispered to Michael a very quiet, “Good morning.”

Notes

Please do yourself a favor and read famous love letters, they are so, so lovely and will make turn even the biggest asshole into a hopeless romantic. Here are some samples of a few.