February is a Bitch: Chapter 2/"The Moron" continued

Where were we? Oh yes, the summer of ’94.

After the Moron dropped me off I went upstairs to my apartment alone and had already decided that I would mention it to no one, especially Michael. You see, Michael had developed a real bro-mance with this guy, thought the world of him and I just couldn’t hurt him like that. This wasn’t the first time some guy went behind Michael’s back and made overtures toward me. Musicians…go figure.

The weekend goes by, and I’ll admit it, I didn’t really want to let this episode go. Stupid me, I thought this guy’s attention was romantic and “special”. Admittedly, my ego had gotten a little out of control at this time in my life. I was 27, 5’9" tall, thin but curvacious and I had some talent. The world was my oyster. Stupid me. I actually felt that I deserved this bit of romantic adventure in my life. Moving on.

I’m at my desk at Hearst Magazines and “he” calls. He wants to meet me. He wants to talk. So what do I do? I reluctantly agree. I don’t think I have to say it again, do I?

We meet at the Neptune Diner here in grand old Astoria. We sit in a booth and for the first time in my life I was afraid to eat a meal in front of another human being. Sensing this, he tries to calm my fears. I nibble, but mostly talk. Mike and I are on the skids, the relationship is going nowhere, I’m not happy. Blah blah blah.

Then we get in his car and take a drive down to Astoria Park. While parked under the Hellgate Bridge he starts with the wooing. “We’d have beautiful, talented children,” he says and up until that moment I didn’t know that I wanted kids. We make out a little, but I decide to go with my head on this one and very quietly ask him to take me home…alone.

Well, he had other plans. Instead of turning off of Astoria Boulevard under the el toward my building he heads straight for the Grand Central Parkway. No apologies. No words at all. Just this intense look in his eye as he stared out the window. I was breathless. I didn’t know what to say. I was done for. He was going to have me and fuck the consequences. I swear I’m not making this up. What’s a girl to do?

He drives me all the way out to Hicksville to his place of employment, a little framing shop he had the keys to. I was dumbstruck as we got out of the car. My head was a whirl of “Yes! No! What about Mike? What about my friends?” But I really couldn’t say a word. I just watched him move and let him lead me into the shop. It was dark in there, but it was summer and some light was getting in. I could see him as he approached me. He looked me in the eyes and said only, “Goddamn, you’re pretty.” The unspoken realization that this was going to happen was like this thick magnetic force that really couldn’t and wouldn’t be ignored. He had put a tarp or a blanket down on the floor and led me to it. I followed, I really had no fight to resist him.

Without going into too much detail (because this really aint a bit of girl-porn), we made love. I mean really made love, not the facsimile I had been practicing all my life. Every touch was so divine that it hurt. Every kiss actually made me see stars. It was a very beautiful and spiritual thing…for me anyway. You’d have to find his ass to ask him what it was all about, but I will say this about him: He cradled me in his arms as if I was something very precious to him and often he would just look down into my eyes before devouring my face again.

It didn’t last very long. It didn’t really have to. It was like taking a bite of dark chocolate and sipping a good Merlot. You’d have to experience it to understand it, but when you do, the pleasure stays with you forever.

Slowly we rose from the haze. Still not saying anything. No pillow talk. No declarations. I was so caught up in the chemistry that we had just created that I really couldn’t speak. But without question, I had decided that this was my guy.

To be continued…

February is a Bitch: Chapter 2/"The Moron" continued

Bernadette Claffey

Astoria, United States

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 4

Artist's Description

Wherein our young heroine discovers love in Hicksville, Long Island.

This story is absolutely true. Names of the stupid have been left out to protect everyone.

Originally meant for my journal in an attempt to make sense out of quite possibly the most challenging month of my life.

Artwork Comments

  • H Maria Perry
  • Bernadette Claffey
  • AkaDaka
  • Bernadette Claffey
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.