Freudian Slip

“Nothing. I…I just have been out of sorts. Don’t know if you heard—my apartment was broken into.”

“I did. I’m really sorry. You know, if you ever need anything, or you’re just…scared to go into an empty apartment, knock on my door and I’ll check around the place for you, or whatever. Anything you need.”

He looked down awkwardly, but she touched his arm. “I will. Thank you. I mean it.” She squeezed his arm slightly. He was so handsome, she thought, and it was such a shame about his wife.

Holding her dog, she turned to enter her apartment. Once she shut the door, she set down Honey, who proceeded to run from one end of the room to the other, yipping and barking.

Shut up.

Honey barked insistently, almost like she was trying to tell Kate something.

“Why are you barking? That’s not like you, Honey. I bet you were so worried and scared when you saw the robber. It’s a good thing you were just lost and he didn’t hurt you.”

Honey moved toward Kate, but seemed to look past her, focusing upon one spot and yipping incessantly.

Go away. Tell the dog to be quiet. Tell it.

“Hush, Honey. What are you barking at? Was the robber there? Can you smell him?”

The dog wouldn’t budge from the one spot. Kate reached down to reassure her little dog. Honey quieted, but still stared, fixated on a spot on the ceiling.

Kate went to the kitchen and set down a bowl of food and one of water. “Come on, Honey,” she coaxed. “Don’t you want to eat?”

Honey still wouldn’t move. Puzzled, Kate walked over to her dog, scooped her up and carried her to her dog dish. Finally, Honey picked at the kibbles and drank some water, then she went over to her green plaid dog bed, turned around three times and settled in for a nap.

Kate walked toward the stereo.

Nothing depressing, Kate. How about the Clash? Or better yet, what about a shower?

Shrugging, she changed her mind about the music. She stood and shed her T-shirt, walking toward the bathroom.

Now this is more like it.

“I swear I need Prozac or something. Shut up!” she said to herself.

Not a chance. We’ve got things to do, Katie Girl. We’ve got things to do.

CHAPTER SIX

“WAKE UP, KATE. WAKE UP, wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!”

On night two, even after peeking into other apartments—and not finding any sex, lesbian or otherwise—Julian found himself next to Katie’s bed, longing for her company. Night seemed interminable again. His old life schedule was a collision of work and partying with odd hours here and there for sleep, as long as it didn’t interfere with his Patron consumption. He liked the 1800 Silver 80 Proof version, perfect for drinking neat. If there was a woman around to do a belly shot off of, even better. He loved licking a sexy belly button. He liked a woman’s stomach, that area below the belly button. He also, for some reason, was fascinated by a woman’s clavicle. Liked to lick along the bone, so delicate. Liked the hollow of a woman’s neck.

Face it, he thought, he loved a woman’s body, period. It was all the emotional shit he couldn’t handle. He stared at the hollow of Kate’s throat, wondering what it would be like to lick it. To kiss her.

Then he wondered what his own body was doing. His assassination attempt had to be big news. He wondered if Kate got the paper in the morning.

“Wake up, little Katie, wake up!” He started singing it, plugging in her name for “Susie” in the old song by Simon and Garfunkel.

He knelt down close to her and sang it in her ear. He watched as the flickers of a dream crossed her face like a shooting star. He had never been this close to a woman before—not in this way. Sex was different. Sex he’d had so close it was claustrophobic, like in the cramped bathroom on a flight from New York to London with a Swedish model. Or that time he had two women in the stall of the bathroom in CBGB’s before it shut down. He would also never forget the time he did it with the wife of his former station manager in the front seat of her Porsche Carrera. The stick shift kept ramming into his butt as she straddled him on top.

But close like this? Never. He didn’t cuddle after sex. He didn’t even like to kiss during sex. He liked it raw and fast with no talking—except for dirty words and moaning. The dirtier the better, frankly.

Kate rolled over, facing the middle of the bed, so Julian walked around to the other side and lay down next to her. He liked listening to her breathing because he felt so lost in Neither Here Nor There. It was contact with a human being. He had no idea how long he’d be stuck in God’s stupidly named in-between world. And he also knew he could find himself ending up there. In Hell, if he died. Or Heaven. One or the other. But he preferred to go back to living in the real world. Where there was Patron tequila. And people who could see him.

“Wake up, little Katie, wake up!” He started singing again. Louder and louder. And finally she stirred. He leaned up on one elbow, thrilled for the company.

She stretched, yawned and punched her pillow. Then she sat up and stared at the clock and groaned.

“God,” she exhaled. “Four in the morning and I wake up with a song stuck in my head. Shut up!”

She punched the pillow again and then flopped backward.

“Don’t go to sleep, Katie Girl. Sit up. Talk to me. Come on. Talk about anything.”

She stared up at the ceiling in the half-darkness—the illumination from the clock radio and city lights outside kept her tiny bedroom a deep gray. She had managed to get the mattress back on her bed that morning. Julian had watched her struggle, unable to lend some muscle.

“Aren’t you happy Zack found your dog? And you can get a new TV. Now we just have to get you over this boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Kate, you should have deleted his picture. Don’t agonize over this guy, this jackass who screwed you over. He’s not worth it.”

He’d had so many one-night stands, he’d lost count. But he wasn’t misleading. He didn’t need to lie to get women, and he had no problem with saying it was for sex and nothing more—not looking for a relationship, I don’t need your number, let’s not do lunch, there’s the door. But he didn’t lie.

He watched her, finding the entire voyeur experience strangely erotic. At the same time, she was his only companion, unless you counted Grandma across the hall, and right now, he needed Kate.

Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her.

She was silent for a few minutes as he studied her. And then she whispered aloud.

“God? It’s me. I…know you aren’t Santa Claus. I can’t just make a wish and have it all get better. But it’s been a really hard few years. First Daddy. And then Mom marrying that money guy. I’ve tried to like him, God. I honestly have, but he’s…not my dad. Maybe that’s what’s so hard. He’s nothing like my dad. Not heroic. Not handsome. Not funny. Not anything. He’s like striped wallpaper. You barely notice him.”

Julian saw she had clasped her hands together on top of the blanket like a small child saying bedtime prayers. Not that he knew anything about that. He hadn’t ever prayed in his life, he didn’t think, which made his recruitment for this job all the more ridiculous. He wasn’t even agnostic. The very word implied someone who had given some thought to the question of whether or not there was a God. He hadn’t. Not ever. He was nothing. Not an atheist. Not an agnostic. Just apathetic. When would the Boss understand that and let him get back into his body and wake up?

Kate whispered again, “And David. I…feel like my guts have been literally ripped out from me. When I saw them together, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even think past the pain. I don’t think I want much, God. I am truly, truly thankful for the material things I have, the roof over my head, my health, a profession I adore, all of it. But to find someone who loves me. Deeply and totally and all of me. Is it impossible? Is a soul mate impossible?”

“You know, Kate,” Julian said, “if you had told me last week that I would believe in soul mates, I would have said you were fucking nuts, but…this whole cosmic thing going on? Maybe God does exist and does know what He…She’s…doing. Maybe there’s someone out there for you.” He filled in his half of the conversation in the pauses.

“I can’t sleep, God. It’s like I hear this constant chatter in my head. It’s driving me nuts. I know it’s the stress of it all. At least I think it’s stress. I don’t want to go to work next to Leslie. It makes me want to throw up. On the good-news front, I have lost six pounds since this whole thing started—even after eating pizza. The stress diet.”

Kate pulled the covers up. “Please let me fall to sleep, God. Otherwise I’ll be so tired and will look horrible and Leslie can have the last laugh knowing David picked her and I’ve become a hag.”

Leslie, Julian decided, needed to be put in her place. And there was no way Kate was going to do that tired and stressed. “It’s okay, Kate. I was just…bored and lonely. I’m sorry I woke you. Go to sleep.”

He touched her cheek and watched as her breathing grew more shallow. Finally, she drifted off.

Now what?

He climbed from her bed and wandered into the living room. There were no phones in Neither Here Nor There, so what was he supposed to do if he had a question?