Visiting Cassie

Cassie And Kathryn In The Bedroom

I heard the women say, “I love you,” as they disappeared into the master bedroom, and, after that, repeatedly, if only in imagination, I heard the sound of soft wet kisses. They weren’t too far away, just a door or two away while I took a bath and meditated—I was hip, but I wasn’t normally this hip. Jesus, how hip was I supposed to be under these circumstances? I wasn’t certain.

I was being a “nice guy”, I thought, while I tried not paying them any mind. But when the bath water wasn’t running it was hard to ignore them, hard to pretend. I heard just enough; their laughter as they opened and shut the closet door made me wince. I had no excuse for acting jealous; Cassie was just an old friend by now. Well, but of course it was jealousy; it just wasn’t sexual.

Her husband was playing basketball somewhere until two, I was told. A proper fool, but no worse than me, an unwilling witness and co-conspirator. I knew what they planned to do. They wanted to touch, as we all do. They hadn't been able to spend any time alone together. Cassie's in-laws had been in town all last week, and now I was in the way this week, So I had to hold my water, dawdle in the tub, mislead myself, and let them play as they will. When it was over, I blocked it all out, though I knew it was factually true. I remember it as if it had importance, though hundreds of things have since happened to Cassie and to me. The past should be buried deep, but it isn’t always…

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