But calling Summer was not an easy feat for me to accomplish, not by any stretch of the imagination. I struggled with that damned imposter syndrome, I questioned myself and her motives, I doubted, I feared, I hesitated, and I almost didn't call. But then a surge of courage gripped me and I found myself on the phone with her. We talk for a little bit - I'd been sat on the sofa all the while I was drumming up the guts, and I only got up when she picked up - and she said she wasn't feeling too well. I didn't press her on that, I actually thought that was her way of telling me that she didn't really want me to bother her. Then she says why don't I come over to her place, and we could maybe order something to eat. I feel like I'm in a dream, something is happening, but I don't know exactly what or why. I'm saying yes, of course I'm saying yes, and she's giving me her address. How soon can you be here, she asks, and I tell her I don't actually live that far from her, maybe less than half an hour away, what is happening, this can't be happening, she asks me to hurry, why?, I say I'm on my way.
In my rush to leave, I slam the door loudly behind me, a cacophony echoing down the hallway as I walk towards the elevator. Things start to sink in - I realize the absurdity of what I am about to do. But I cant' stop myself from going, I can't. There's an urgency to me, to my body, to the way I move. I'm running down the subway station stairs, whereas I'd usually just walk down, but my feet are burning, my groins are burning, there is a fire in me, and then I stop and wonder if this is it, if this is the time when I finally meet a psychopath who reels me in hook, line and sinker, and then kills me and chops up my body, and then - oh god - feeds my remains to stray dogs. I have a cold sweat running down my spine, my heart is beating a thousand miles an hour, and my balls, my good lord jesus, why are they hurting so much? What am I doing, I repeat to myself so many times. What am I doing? I'm standing in front of the building where she lives. I can still stop this, I assure myself. I can still quit while I'm ahead. I can give her some stupid excuse and maybe she'll never talk to me again. I'm pressing the button for her floor, and shortly thereafter she buzzes me in, and I'm going up to meet her. What. Am. I. Doing.
She's waiting for me by the door when I exit the elevator, and as I approach her she greets me warmly with a kiss on my cheek. Come in, she says. There's nothing I want more. I'm taken aback at how beautiful her place is - very neat, very organized, but also very packed. She has hundreds of books, and CDs and all that stuff, but everything is always in its right place. My old friend the imposter syndrome whispers in my ear I do not belong here. I'm tempted to believe him. Summer says she's got a good selection of wines - of course she does - and asks me what I was in the mood for. I almost make a stupid joke, but catch myself just in time. Anything's fine, I say, and she asks me if it's really anything, uh-oh, I say yes, anything, even haggis, and I make a face and she laughs. Let's order pizza, she suggests. Pizza it is. She tells me to wait for her in the living room while she places the order. I nod, and go and sit while she mills about. A few minutes later she joins me in her sofa, and sits cross-legged in a lotus-like position. She closes her eyes for a few moments, as if deep in meditation, then deftly catches her long hair in a pony tail. She looks at me, smiles, and says 'I'm so glad you came. I was beginning to think you wouldn't call me!', and a part of me is still shocked that I'm here at all, while another sits in awe of her. I regurgitate words, trying not to show her how nervous I feel. We spend some minutes in idle chat until the door rings, and it's the pizza delivery guy. I offer to pay for the pizza, she shoos me away, she was having none of it. After a few moments, here she is placing the pizza on top of the table. She comes back with a couple of bottles of wine, and glasses for us. This is going to end in tears.
The alcohol's leaving us quite inebriated, and I've relaxed a lot since I first arrived. I'm now making witty quips, and sharp remarks, as if I was born with the gift of the gab, but really this is just the booze talking. She laughs loud and often at what I say, and we are having a good time. We eat the pizza, and drink the two bottles of wine. She asks if she should open another one. Summer, if I drink one more bottle of wine, I will have to sleep on the floor because I won't be able to go back home. She says I don't have to sleep on the floor, I can sleep with her. On her bed. And then - god, how do these things happen? - we're kissing, and I feel how soft her skin is, I smell how amazing she smells, and I'm hard as a rock. She says we can't fuck. I say that's ok. Though my balls are going to explode. I'm on my period, she says. But I can give you a blowjob, she says. And then, clarity. The veil that the booze had placed around my head is slowly lifted. Summer, I say, and it's no lie, I didn't come here to have sex with you. I never even thought it would ever be on the cards. We don't have to do anything. But I want to, she says. So do I, I say. But are we... are we going to be together again?, I ask, and she says she hopes we do, she wants us to be together again. We're drunk. And if this goes on like this we'll be drunk in love. Summer, let me call a cab so I can go home. Stay, she says. Stay the night. Stay with me. Are you going to kill me, now that you got me drunk, and chope me up into little pieces and feed me to stray dogs? She laughs, and leads me to her bedroom. Can we go to sleep, she asks? She shimmies out of her clothes, and sits barely clothed on the side of her bed. She stays silent for a few minutes, and then gets up and comes over to where I am and kisses me. Her kisses taste great. Get undressed, she says, I don't have pyjamas for you, but we'll sort out that later. Now please excuse me, I have to go to the toilet. Should I go to bed and wait for you, then, I ask, like a nincompoop. Of course, she says, I'll join you soon.
I'm... my head's swimming. It's not just the alcohol, it's the giddiness of all of this that's happened tonight. I can barely think straight. Now it's me who's down to my underwear, sitting on the side of her bed. I'm going to hyperventilate. No, stop. Take a deep breath. And another. And another. No good. The alcohol swims all the way up to my head. Aw jeez, I hope I don't throw up. I lie flat on the bed, alone in the dark. I close my eyes, and think of Summer, though she's just right beside me almost. Am I smiling? God, I am. The door gently clicks shut, and I feel lightweight Summer lying down close to me. I feel her hands caressing my arms, running down the knots on my back. Her fingernails are tracing patterns on my flesh, etching goosebumps on my skin. I let out a cry in the night, delicate and intimate, a hosanna to all the pain and misery that was to come.
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