After finishing, Jake laces his fingers and hammocks them behind his head. He stares up at glow-in-the-dark constellations on the ceiling, thinking about how his little sisters had the same stars on the ceiling of their bedroom when they were younger. Now grown, and in their twenties, neither of them would be caught dead pressing nostalgic relics of youth into patterns on the ceiling of their bedrooms.<\/p>\n
Jake wonders about the girl in bed next to him. There is something childish about her, or perhaps na\u00efve, which he likes because he knows that were she not so callow, she wouldn\u2019t look his direction, much less sleep with him. He\u2019s pretty sure her name is Anna, though he has her in his phone as “Boheme girl,” because that was where they had their first date. He hasn\u2019t gotten around to saving her number under her name because he wasn\u2019t sure how serious they were going to get, though, three weeks into dating, he told her he loved her, and they slept together for the first time that evening. He remembers the juvenile pleasure he felt pushing her onto his bed, removing her denim mini skirt and leopard print panties.<\/p>\n
Do you have a condom?<\/em> she asked.<\/p>\n He did, but he lied and said he didn\u2019t, and was pleased when she gave him the okay anyway. After a minute or two in missionary, he turned her around and took her from behind, ejaculating inside her.<\/p>\n Did you just cum in me?<\/em> she asked, a slight edge to her voice.<\/p>\n Are you not on the pill?<\/em><\/p>\n No!<\/em> she said, shaking her head.<\/p>\n As she rolled her underwear back on, he handed her her skirt and walked her to CVS for PlanB, which thankfully had recently been approved by the FDA for over-the-counter use. He paid for the pill on account he thought it was the chivalrous thing to do. She seemed elated by this and treated the event as if it were a visit to the scholastic book fair, and not like something that had the potential to drastically upend both of their lives. He found this both refreshing and repulsive. On one hand, he was happy to not have to endure female wrath over his casual ejaculation, on the other hand, he questioned how much this girl valued herself. What kind of self-respecting girl lets the guy she\u2019s been seeing for three weeks cum inside her without a condom. He didn\u2019t want to stew on the question for too long, and instead decided the experience was an exciting scene that he enjoyed replaying in his mind when he jerked off. He loved those leopard panties.<\/p>\n It’s getting late. I\u2019m going to head out,<\/em> he says, removing his hands from behind his head and sitting up.<\/p>\n Are you not going to stay the night?<\/em> she asks, her voice cloying and desperate. She always asked him this, though the other times she put up more of a fight, as if she could beg him to change his mind. She wasn\u2019t begging him this time. Perhaps she\u2019s caught on. He paws at the nightstand for his phone. It\u2019s not there.<\/p>\n Hey, I think I lost my phone. Can you call it?<\/em><\/p>\n She looks at him with disappointment. He is evading her question, still, she picks up her rectangular Nokia and pounds his number into the keypad.<\/p>\n It\u2019s ringing,<\/em> she says, getting out of bed to follow the sound of the vibration. He follows behind her and watches as she throws couch pillows on the ground and retrieves the buzzing phone from between cushions. She looks at the screen before handing the phone back to him.<\/p>\n “Boheme girl”? You don\u2019t even have my name saved to my number??<\/em> she asks incredulously. Change it now! I want to see you do it,<\/em> she demands.<\/p>\n He takes the egg-shaped device, flips the screen open and starts typing her name A-N-N-A. What\u2019s your last name?<\/em> he asks. She tells him and he continues typing.<\/p>\n And I go by Annie, not Anna,<\/em> she corrects.<\/p>\n He finishes getting dressed and pulls his keys out of his pocket. Annie has draped herself in a yellow silk kimono and is sitting in the middle of the stairwell looking pitiful.<\/p>\n I\u2019m not going to beg you to stay this time,<\/em> she says as he descends the stairs behind her. If you want to go, go.<\/em><\/p>\n He kisses her on the cheek, I\u2019ll call you later,<\/em> he says, and descends the remaining flight of stairs, feeling rejuvenated, and ready for his own bed.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n As Jake rides the subway back to Brooklyn, he thinks about how he doesn\u2019t want to fail. Not that he thinks he\u2019s failing, though he does have this weird tugging feeling in his abdomen. Could this feeling suggest that he should care more about Annie? He dismisses the thought. It\u2019s not that serious, he thinks. Not like he\u2019s going to marry the girl. He watches the train emerge from underground and views the buildings whir past as the subway continues along the tracks.<\/p>\n His mind shifts once more. He knows that Annie has expectations for him. He\u2019s been so on and off with her. Earlier in the evening, before she had sex with him, she told him that she doesn\u2019t sleep with people with whom she\u2019s not in a relationship. He then asked if she wanted to be in a relationship with him, to which she said yes, and took her clothes off for him a few hours later. The situation has him feeling somewhat conflicted. He likes Annie, and he\u2019s grateful to have confirmed her name. He likes the comfort she brings him. She\u2019s easy, and makes him feel good about himself, but she\u2019s also needy and wants him to be her boyfriend, and despite what he leads her to believe, he\u2019s not committed. He doesn\u2019t want to be tied down by her, but he also doesn\u2019t want to sacrifice his opportunity to get laid on a regular basis. It\u2019s a delicate balance, and it has him conflicted.<\/p>\n Truthfully, he started losing interest in Annie after the first time they slept together, but he\u2019d used the \u201cI love you\u201d card, and now the \u201cboyfriend\u201d card. He contemplates if he wants to sacrifice the sex altogether and maneuver a slow fade. Is it worth it? The longer she puts up with his behavior, the more respect he loses for her, but God bless her loyalty and predictability. Jake knows that he\u2019s been looking for something for some time, he just can\u2019t identify what exactly it is that he wants. He\u2019s pretty sure it\u2019s not Annie, or any of the other girls he\u2019s sleeping with. It\u2019s like he can never grab hold of it, at least not in the tangible sense.<\/p>\n In moments like this, Jake often links everything back to his mother. He wants to blame her. Maybe if she didn\u2019t live so far away they could work on having a better relationship. Or, maybe if he hadn\u2019t caught her having an affair with his father\u2019s best friend, he wouldn\u2019t feel so fucked up by her. They\u2019ve never talked about that moment when Jake walked in on the two of them, his father\u2019s best friend pressing his weight into her, their naked silhouettes exposed by the light creeping in through the opened door. She told Jake not to tell his father, and he never did. He kept that secret for her, but his father found out anyway and the affair ruptured the family.<\/p>\n After the divorce, Jake and his sisters went to live with his father, while his mother moved back to Israel. His father eventually remarried a nice woman whom Jake likes very much, while his mother has only had a string of relationships, nothing serious, and nothing that lasts longer than 18 months.<\/p>\n As the subway approaches his stop, he pats his pockets and realizes he smoked his last cigarette before leaving Annie\u2019s. He\u2019ll have to stop at the bodega beneath his apartment.<\/p>\n In the bodega, he sees his regular guy behind the counter and asks for a pack of yellow American Spirits. He digs in his pockets for his wallet\u2026 empty. His first thought is that Annie is playing a prank on him, and that she swiped his wallet as punishment for not staying the night.<\/p>\n $6.50 my man.<\/em><\/p>\n He checks his pockets again, front, back, sides, his wallet isn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n Hey man, I didn\u2019t realize, but it looks like I don\u2019t have my wallet, any chance I can start a tab?<\/em><\/p>\n His dude behind the register looks annoyed, but nods and pushes the pack towards him. Jake peels the cellophane, flips the top and places one of the cigarettes between his lips.<\/p>\n Thanks. I owe you one,<\/em> he says through pursed lips as the cigarette pulses in cadence with his speech.<\/p>\n Outside, he pulls out his phone and texts Annie to ask if he left his wallet. Within minutes, she dutifully responds.<\/p>\n Haven\u2019t seen it. Don\u2019t think it\u2019s here.<\/em><\/p>\n He must have gotten pickpocketed on his way home, because he definitely had it at the frozen yogurt place where he took Annie earlier. Even though it\u2019s irrational, for some reason, Jake wants to blame his mother. As if her bad energy and DNA linger off him like a scent that attracts predators. She\u2019s done something to him that welcomes these things to happen. He had $50 in that wallet and that was supposed to last him the next few days. He won\u2019t get paid again until his next show.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n On Wednesdays, Jake plays a regular gig at the Bushwick dive, Goodbye Blue Monday. Most shows, he merely goes through the motions, dispensing little effort because the crowd seems indifferent to him regardless. The bar\u2019s small audience has a pool of young people that regularly approach him, mostly girls with tattoos and nose rings, even after his shittiest of sets, which he finds humorous. They typically walk up and tell him that they really liked one of his songs, always the same one and he obligingly says, thank you. Sometimes they offer to buy him a drink, and sometimes he offers to buy them a drink, knowing that his tab is free en lieu of payment for performing. Any money Jake makes from a show is from tips. From here, he and the girl of the night typically start a bland conversation and end at one of their apartments. This is how he met Annie.<\/p>\n Tonight, as he steps onto the stage, he does his usual quick scan of the audience, his eyes catching and settling on a girl at one of the back tables near the door. He can\u2019t identify why, but for some reason, she strikes him\u2014straight brown hair, high-waisted khaki shorts, a white button-up tucked in with a navy sweater tied and draped around her shoulders. She doesn\u2019t look like she belongs in a shitty Bushwick dive. She looks like she just stepped off a yacht. She smiles at him from her table and takes a sip of her drink. There is something gravitational about her, the way her long hair glides over her shoulders, the way others approach her table, and she stands to hug them, her wide smile opening the room.<\/p>\n He can\u2019t take his eyes off her and continues peering at her from the stage. She\u2019s long since stopped looking at him and is more engaged in her fellow table guests, holding one girl\u2019s outstretched hand as she inspects her diamond engagement ring. Jake is merely background noise. Normally, he doesn\u2019t mind, but tonight, he hates the feeling. He feels like a dancing monkey. He scans the audience for someone else to focus on, but finds no one, and instead sings to the bar, ending the song to muted applause barely audible over the sound of clinking bar glasses and the constant slamming of the door as people go in and out to smoke.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve got just one more for you guys,<\/em> Jake says to his increasingly disengaged audience. He\u2019s not going through the motions tonight. He\u2019s got to make this one count.<\/p>\n Crazy<\/em>, he hums. Crazy people. Why can\u2019t you love, when there\u2019s so, so much to be thankful for. \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Jake closes his eyes and continues. He has managed to transport himself back in time to when he was nineteen and wrote the song after his parents\u2019 divorce. He is sitting on the edge of the guest bed in his mother\u2019s house in Israel. She\u2019s in the kitchen, throwing porcelain against the wall, fighting with her then boyfriend. He hears her boyfriend\u2019s calming voice, slicing the chaos of his mother\u2019s screams with soothing silence, he imagines her boyfriend wrapping her in his arms as the sound of the lodged kitchen items fade to a dim echo.\u00a0 Jake opens his eyes and sees the entire audience is staring, attention fixed. He feels the urge to cry but represses his tears and finishes his set and final song. This time the applause drowns out all other sound and Jake feels a sense of pride. He hasn\u2019t sung like that in a long time.<\/p>\n As Jake unplugs his guitar from the amp, he looks over at the girl\u2019s table once more. This time, she\u2019s looking back at him. They stare for a moment before she looks down and breaks the connection to rejoin the conversation with her friends. Modest Mouse\u2019s “Float On” plays across the bar stereo as Jake folds his guitar into its case and sets it off stage, out of the way. The next act sets up as Jake makes his way to the bar.<\/p>\n The muted television behind the bar is on the news. The headline at the bottom of the screen says the International Astronomical Union has demoted Pluto from a planet to a dwarf planet. He orders a beer and stares at the back of the girl\u2019s head as the other band plays. Toward the middle of the set, Jake swivels on his bar stool and shakes his empty bottle at the bartender. A brush of air moves behind him. He looks over his shoulder and sees her exit, her brown hair swaying through the eclipsing door. The bartender slides Jake his beer and he takes a sip before pointing the bottle up in gratitude.<\/p>\n Patting his side, he feels for his pack of American Spirits, pulling one out, he presses it between his lips as he grabs his beer and heads toward the exit. He finds her outside, leaning against the brick building with one foot up for extra support and her arms crossed as she talks into her phone.<\/p>\n Yes, no problem. I can open the gallery tomorrow,<\/em> Jake hears her say before she slaps her hot pink Motorola RAZR phone shut.<\/p>\n Facing her, Jake lights his cigarette, takes a drag and blows the smoke down, tucking his beer under his arm.<\/p>\n Weren\u2019t you just on stage?<\/em> she asks, walking toward him.<\/p>\n Mmmmhmm,<\/em> Jake replies.<\/p>\n I liked your set,<\/em> she says, motioning to the bouncer to let her back in.<\/p>\n Which gallery?<\/em> Jake asks.<\/p>\n She looks back, I\u2019m sorry?<\/em><\/p>\n I heard you on the phone. Which gallery do you work at?<\/em><\/p>\n Oh. Agora. It\u2019s in Chelsea,<\/em> she says. Are you familiar?<\/em><\/p>\n I am<\/em>, Jake lies.<\/p>\n Maybe I\u2019ll see you there sometime,<\/em> she says, holding out her hand. I\u2019m Sarah.<\/em><\/p>\n Jake,<\/em> he responds.<\/p>\n I know. I saw you on the line-up,<\/em> she says, letting go of his hand and smiling at him coyly before disappearing back inside.<\/p>\n Jake knows from experience that encounters like these never end well. He takes another drag of his cigarette, places his back against the brick wall and looks out into the street.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Typically, Jake sleeps past noon on the days following one of his shows. When he does finally awake, he grabs a coffee from the bodega and takes a short walk through Grover Cleveland Playground, a park near his apartment. Today, he\u2019s researching what time galleries open, and walking to the subway station to take the train into Manhattan. He arrives at Agora Gallery just after 11 a.m.<\/p>\n Through the gallery\u2019s windows, he sees Sarah behind a desk, takes a deep breath, and readies himself before entering. For some reason he feels nervous approaching her. He never feels nervous, so the sensation is foreign to him. She\u2019s staring at a computer screen and doesn\u2019t notice Jake standing in front of her. He clears his throat.<\/p>\n Sarah jerks, appearing startled, and mildly disgusted.<\/p>\n Well, hello there,<\/em> she says. Didn\u2019t expect to see you so soon.<\/em><\/p>\n Jake is frozen. Was this not a good idea to come see her? He\u2019s starting to feel a bit like a stalker. He should have played it cool. He should have waited at least three days. He\u2019s not even sure what he\u2019s doing. He contemplates heading right back out the door but decides that would be worse. He regains his composure and sense of confidence.<\/p>\n I had an appointment nearby and figured I\u2019d stop in,<\/em> he says, feeling smooth, having thought of a plausible excuse so quickly.<\/p>\n For what?<\/em> she asks, eyes back on the computer screen.<\/p>\n My appointment?<\/em> he asks. Sarah nods her head.<\/p>\n That\u2019s personal,<\/em> he responds.<\/p>\n She nods her head again as if to suggest that\u2019s a fair response. She doesn\u2019t take her eyes away from the screen. The silence between them is starting to hang heavy. Jake knows he needs to say something, or else he risks looking awkward.<\/p>\n Also, I wanted to see if you\u2019d want to get coffee with me sometime?<\/em> he asks.<\/p>\n She looks up and pauses for a few beats before answering.<\/p>\n I\u2019d like that,<\/em> she says. But I have to let you know, I have a boyfriend.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jake and Sarah have been sleeping together for a few weeks now. He feels like Sarah is the it for which he has been looking, and he has no intention of turning back. He can\u2019t, not even if he tried. He owes it to himself to see where things could go with her, even if she does have a boyfriend.<\/p>\n When Sarah invites Jake over to her apartment for the first time, she buzzes him in and greets him with the door open, so he doesn\u2019t have to knock. She pours them both a glass of red wine and shares small details about her relationship with Tom, who is an investment banker and spends most of his time at work.<\/p>\n She and Tom grew up together in Cape Elizabeth. Their families are friends and share a summer house on Martha\u2019s Vineyard. Childhood summers were spent at the beach, sailing, or exploring the island and trails, sneaking kisses before returning after dark.<\/p>\n Jake feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He takes it out and flips the screen. It\u2019s a text from Annie.<\/p>\n miss u,<\/em> the text reads.<\/p>\n Jake quickly closes his phone and shoves it back into his pocket, annoyed by Annie\u2019s desperation, and inability to take a hint. A few moments later his phone buzzes once more.<\/p>\n when can I see you again?<\/em> Annie asks.<\/p>\n Sarah\u2019s back is to him as she refills their wine glasses, talking about how she and Tom have been together for years and have lived together for two.<\/p>\n Jake lets out a small sigh and deletes the texts from Annie before returning his attention to Sarah. He\u2019s not sure why Sarah is telling him all of this, but he sits and listens. He feels it is the polite thing to do, yet he clenches at the thought of not fitting in with Sarah\u2019s lifestyle and upbringing. It feels like a little death knowing that he will never be able to provide Sarah the kind of life to which she is accustomed. Who is he? He doesn\u2019t recognize himself. Normally he balks at commitment, but the idea that Sarah is technically committed to someone else is all Jake can think about.<\/p>\n He’s brought back to the time he walked in on his mother with his father\u2019s best friend. He thinks about how guilty he felt for not telling his father, how the secret ate him up inside, and how his father was made to look so foolish. Somehow, this situation with Sarah and Tom feels comparable. Sarah is playing the role of his mother, and Jake is the other man.<\/p>\n Tom and I aren\u2019t doing well,<\/em> she tells him. I have this feeling he\u2019s cheating on me. He spends so many late nights at the office and he doesn\u2019t make time to see me,<\/em> she continues. We\u2019ve just known each other for so long, and our families are inseparable. I don\u2019t know… It\u2019s a tough situation.<\/em><\/p>\n Jake doesn\u2019t know what to say. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her hard. She breaks away and walks toward the bedroom. Jake follows and they have sex in the same bed she shares with Tom. After they\u2019ve both finished, she picks up a book from the nightstand and begins reading.<\/p>\n What are you reading?<\/em> Jake asks.<\/p>\n Breakfast of Champions<\/em>, she says, it\u2019s by Vonnegut<\/em>. She shows him the cover, while flipping through some of the images inside. One of the images is a spaceship with \u201cGoodbye Blue Monday\u201d written across it. See<\/em>, she shows him the drawing as if she were reading a picture book to a group of kindergarteners. That\u2019s the name of the bar where you perform. Did you know it was a Vonnegut reference?<\/em><\/p>\n Jake shakes his head. No,<\/em> he says.<\/p>\n This isn\u2019t so bad, he thinks to himself. He\u2019s in bed with a girl he likes, talking about Vonnegut. He vaguely remembers reading Slaughterhouse Five<\/em>\u00a0in high school, but he didn\u2019t finish, even though it\u2019s a short book. His thinking drifts back to his mother, is it true that men are attracted to women who resemble their mothers? Sarah and his mom could not be more different, but he still finds that similarity, they both share the same penchant for infidelity. He turns over and faces the window. The blinds are closed, which makes him feel protected, shielded from the outside.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n It’s been weeks since Jake and Sarah were last together. She\u2019s stopped answering his texts and returning his calls. It\u2019s been driving him crazy. He\u2019s angry with her. He feels as if she used him just to see what it was like to slum it, and now that the thrill is gone, she\u2019s discarded him. He feels himself spiraling out of control. He sends a string of errant text messages demanding answers.<\/p>\n It was a mistake,<\/em> she finally responds. Tom and I are going to work it out.<\/p>\n So I was nothing to you?<\/em> Jake types and hits send.<\/p>\n We meet people on the same level of psychological wound as us,<\/em> she responds.<\/p>\n I was exercising a wound,<\/em> she responds again.<\/p>\n Jake stares at her response, then throws his phone across the room. Why did he even try? What was the point? The situation feels like it could have been avoided, and now Jake is alone, stewing in his own thoughts and anger and emotions. Who the fuck does she think she is? This doesn\u2019t happen to him. He\u2019s never allowed a girl to treat him like this. Who is Sarah? Just some bitch with a boyfriend. He\u2019ll be damned if he lets another girl play him like this. It\u2019s like d\u00e9j\u00e0 vu replaying various scenarios of his mother on repeat.<\/p>\n Jake takes a moment to collect himself. He finds his phone across the room, picks it up, scrolls for Annie\u2019s contact, and dials. She picks up after the third ring.<\/p>\n Hey, what are you doing?<\/em> he asks.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Even though it’s irrational, for some reason, Jake wants to blame his mother. 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