By Micki L. Bailey

As she rode in the noisy old elevator up to Roger’s loft, she felt the tingly, excited sensation at seeing him again. The anticipation, yes. But also the giddy longing of a young relationship.

She’d known Roger for almost nine months now, including the time when they’d been broken up. Those three months when she’d foolishly decided to give Matt one final try. The doomed final try that hadn’t succeeded.

And now Roger was her whole world. He occupied all her waking and sleeping thoughts. Now that she’d finally gotten him back. Convinced him that he was who she wanted over everyone else. Assured him she would never again toss him aside for someone from her past. Maybe tonight she’d tell him how much she loved him.

The heavy, clanky elevator door opened in the middle like a huge mouth to allow her entry into Roger’s residence. His lair, she thought. He was more of an isolated loner than he even admitted. He honestly didn’t feel the need for most human contact. He was self-sufficient in every way. With the exceptions of herself and Vinnie, Roger was perfectly satisfied with his own company. She felt special, honored. And she also felt that giddy tingling again.

Stepping into the loft, she didn’t see or hear him. The stereo wasn’t even playing as usual. Everything looked normal, though. Roger must be in the shower or getting dressed, she thought. She walked over and dropped her purse on the blue leather loveseat. Then she got a Sprite from the fridge and sat down to wait for him. She couldn’t hear him anywhere.

It was five in the afternoon. Exactly the time he’d told her last night to drop by. They’d been out to dinner and a late movie. Roger refused to go to movies (or any other public venue, for that matter) “when the whole damn world” was going to be there. Not a people person, this boyfriend of hers. Definitely not.

Tonight’s plans were vague. When he’d left her apartment last night, he’d just said, “Come over around five. We’ll get something to eat and then maybe hang out at Stooges. We’ll see.”

She loved to see him in the bar atmosphere. He’d drink beer and laugh a little with his buddies. And he was always oblivious to the gawks and stares that some of those desperate, shameless single girls threw his way.

And, oh, how she loved to watch him play darts. He was so very good at darts, like he was at pretty much everything he tried. And she enjoyed watching him excel at this from a distance. He’d be coolly and methodically beating the pants off Drew or whoever at the dart board and then unexpectedly look over and smile at her, just for a second. Sometimes he’d wink too. And then she’d feel she couldn’t wait ‘til the evening was over and she was back in the loft, in his big brass bed. With him. Next to him. Under him.

“What are you doing here?”

She looked up from her reverie. Roger was standing at the edge of the “den” area of the loft. He wore nothing but his faded jeans and an open dark blue robe. No shoes. No socks. His hair was an uncombed mess, and he hadn’t shaved since the day before. He held a full glass of some kind of alcohol and looked at her as if she was a stranger.

“Hey, Roger. Didn’t you say to be here around five?”

“Did I? I feel sure I’d remember that.”

He was scaring her. Was this a game? A game he’d never played with her before? He wasn’t smiling. And she didn’t feel any warmth coming from him at all.

“You said it last night, honey. At my place. Remember?”

“Whatever. Is it five o’clock already?” There was a tense, hard edge to his voice. Almost a meanness. Still no smile or flicker of warmth. She was sure he wasn’t glad to see her. She’d never seen him so unkempt. And she couldn’t believe he was unaware of the time of day. Very unlike him.

“Yeah. It’s five fifteen, actually,” she said.

“Then that would make you late,” he said slowly, as he took a big swallow out of his drink, watching her over the glass rim.

“Not really. I’ve been sitting out here waiting for you, Roger.”

Although she hadn’t meant this comment to be antagonistic, it apparently pissed him off. “Really now?”

He set his glass down on the coffee table next to her, a little too forcefully. “Waiting on me, huh? Do forgive me for inconveniencing you.”

She saw anger in his bloodshot eyes and heard sarcasm in his voice. He was drunker than she’d ever seen him before. And more hateful. Like a different person altogether. And it occurred to her that she should not be there right now. She looked for her purse.

“Honey, I’ll just go. You’re not in a very good mood, and I’m not helping that—”

“Hold it! Who are YOU to judge MY moods?” He’d moved between her and the door. He was peering at her now, with squinted eyes and a wrinkled brow. She couldn’t even see the Roger she thought she knew. She wondered what he was seeing as he looked at her. “This is where I live. If I wanna be in a shitty mood, it’s none of your damn business!” He screamed at her. He’d never screamed at her before.

“Okay, Roger. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” She felt more scared than sorry. She wished she’d called before she came over. She grabbed her purse and stood up. But as she did, he was instantly in front of her and pushed her backwards onto the couch.

“No, you don’t. Sit the hell back down. You came over here for a reason. What was it? Ya wanna good fuck? Huh? Is that it? Or do ya just wanna bitch at me some more?”

He had grabbed the snap on his jeans and was still holding it now, waiting for her answer. Waiting to comply if she said she wanted “a good fuck.” Her breath had been knocked out of her when he shoved her down. She was stunned. And almost too afraid to answer him. His chest heaved, and his face was full of rage.

“I…..uh….I didn’t come over here to bitch at you.”

“Then you wanna get laid?” He still held the front of his jeans. For the first time, she was not turned on at the sight of his half-nude body.

“No.” Her voice was a frightened whisper. She couldn’t begin to imagine having sex with this person. Her heart was racing. This, she thought, must be what it feels like to be in the cage with an angry tiger.

“Well, maybe that’s what I want,” he said, in a much lower voice, as he popped open the snap he was holding. Could he really intend to do this?

She knew she couldn’t panic. “Roger, please don’t.”

He took two steps closer to her. She smelled the liquor and saw through his jeans that he was hard. “Go ahead. Scream. Who’s gonna hear ya?” He whispered now, staring at her.

She knew he sensed her fear. He would be on her with one more step.

“Roger, please. Don’t do this. I’m begging.” Her voice was cracking, and her eyes stung with tears she was afraid to let roll down her face. She held her breath as he peered at her.

Then, in one heartbeat, Roger wheeled around and walked back over to his drink. The robe billowed behind him like a cape. "Ah, fuck it.” He drained the glass and went to the kitchen for another one. She let her breath out in a huge sigh. But, she thought, I’m not out of the woods yet. She listened to his movements without turning around.

“Here. Forgive my horrible manners. Have a drink with me,” he said as he returned and handed her a drink. She heard more sarcasm in his voice. She hated whiskey, but took the glass and sipped it. Out of fear.

“Thank you,” was all she could say. She was still reeling.

“Ya know? I’m glad you’re here,” he said with a devious smile and the sarcastic tone. “Maybe you can explain to me why this shithole of a world we live in is so fucked. Hmmm?” He was animated now in his tirade, walking around the den and waving his free arm. And occasionally he laughed a little. She just sat still and watched.

“I mean look at it! We kill each other off left and right. Little kids die of AIDS before they can ever fuck or shoot drugs. Hundreds of people drink poisonous Kool-Aid because some dickhead tells them to. Planes fall out of the sky.”

He stopped and looked at her. She froze under his gaze. “So…..whadaya say, darling?”

She was terrified. “I…..uh….I don’t know,” she barely got out.

Wrong answer.

He slammed his glass against the wall, splattering glass and brown liquid. She jumped. “You don’t know. Just like everyone else. Well, well. If you could just once imagine half the shit I’ve seen…..”

He ignored the mess he’d made and went back to the kitchen for another drink. She was still terrified. But she couldn’t move. Then the phone rang.

Roger ignored it through four rings before he said, “You get it. It’s probably for you anyway. Nobody calls me.” And he walked back to the bathroom. She grabbed the phone in desperation. It was Vinnie.

“Hey, babe. I figured you’d be over there. What’s up? What are yuse guys doing tonight?”

She almost cried with relief. Looking up to keep an eye out for Roger, she whispered hurriedly into the phone. “God, Vinnie. I’m scared to death. Can you come over here now? He’s lost his mind, and he won’t let me leave, and I’m afraid he’s gonna rape me or hit me or—”

“Hold on! Slow down. Are you okay?”

“For now. But he’s acting insane! I don’t know what to do! Please come over here!”

“I’m on my way. But listen. He won’t hurt you.”

“Vinnie, he’s a monster. Please hurry.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She hung up the phone just before Roger walked back in the room. She thought she saw him stagger a little.

“Who was on the phone?”

“I didn’t get to it in time,” she lied to him, hoping he hadn’t heard her whispering.

She was in luck. He didn’t seem to care about the phone call whatsoever. He slowly walked to the kitchen for yet more alcohol. Then he brought the half-empty bottle over to her.

“Have s’more,” he said as he poured. His words were more slurred. She knew that he knew if he sat down he’d most likely pass out.

“Roger, I can cook something if you’re hungry.” She had no clue where she got the courage to volunteer that.

He looked up at her, raising only his eyes. She thought she’d made another tragic mistake.

“Thanks for your concern. But I can take care of myself.” He sounded a little less menacing. But she still wished Vinnie would show up.

Roger walked around the room holding the bottle by its neck in one hand and his glass in the other. He’d seemed quieter and more withdrawn since he’d come back in the room after the phone call. She watched him, feeling somewhat calmer now. Somewhat. She still feared another outburst she now knew he was so capable of.

Then she heard the elevator door open and saw him turn to look at it. She heard Vinnie say, “Roga, what’s going on here? What kinda shit are ya pulling?”

Fear gripped her all over again as Roger slowly turned around to her without answering Vinnie. To her, he said, "Didn’t get to the phone in time, hmmm? What’s this? Your knight in shining armor? Your rescue?”

“Cut it out, Roga. Find somewhere to sit down before ya fall down. I’m taking her outta here.”

Vinnie was in her line of sight now. He motioned her towards him, and she stood up. Roger dropped the liquor bottle on the floor with a thud.

“Oh, I get it. It’s been you two all along, hasn’t it?” He looked from her to Vinnie and back to her again. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, Roga. You say anutha word ta her and I’m gonna kick your ass.”

She felt her tears come back. But she didn’t cry. Not yet. She snatched up her purse and went to Vinnie. She couldn’t look at Roger again. Vinnie put his arm around her and shoved her towards the elevator.

She stepped into the elevator and kept her back to the loft. She heard Vinnie say, “Get your shit togetha, man. And get some sleep too.” Then Vinnie stepped into the elevator with her and pulled the lever. She finally let the tears out. Vinnie put his hand on her back for comfort.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, not really. Just a shove. But he threatened to rape me,” she said through her sobs. “God, he was cruel. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“I have. Once. It’s a post-traumatic stress disorder thing. And the drinking makes it worse. Ya shouldn’t have been here.”

“But I had no idea. He’d told me to come over. I always spend Saturday night here,” she said.

They’d walked out to their cars by this time. She stood against hers, and Vinnie stood in front of her. The crying was letting up.

“Don’t worry about it. He’ll come out of it. He’ll be okay,” Vinnie said.

She looked up at him. “But I don’t know if I will. He said some awful things.”

“Well, sweetheart, that’s up to you. He’d not an easy person to love.”

“Tell me about it. I was shaking I was so scared,” she said.

“It’s over now. Want me to drive ya home?”

“Thanks, Vinnie, for coming to my rescue. I think I can drive home. But can I buy you dinner?”

He smiled. “Now I don’t really think we need it getting back to Roga that we were out together. Do you?”

“Fuck him. Besides, that might not even matter at this point.”

“Oh, it still matters to him. He’s quite smitten with you,” he said.

“Yeah. Right.”

She went back to her own little loft apartment and moped around the rest of the evening. And cried some more. She didn’t expect Roger to call and couldn’t decide if she even wanted him to. So she turned her phone off and left it off. Until she went to work Monday morning. If he tried to call, he’d get the clue that she didn’t want to talk to him. And he’d never leave a message on the voice mail service. Not his style.

Roger did call her office Monday morning, but she’d forwarded her calls to the front desk. He left a message that said only that he’d called. She didn’t return it. She didn’t know what to say to him.

Then Vinnie called her in the late afternoon. She did return his call.

“Are ya ever gonna speak to Roga again?”

“Maybe. When I figure out what the hell to say to him,” she said.

“How ‘bout you just listen to what he has to say?”

“What’d he do, Vinnie? Get you to call me and beg?”

“Pretty much. But I told him that I wouldn’t let him talk to ya again without an escort. The escort being me, of course.”

“Thanks, Vinnie.”

“So will ya talk to him?”

“When?”

“Tonight. I’ll come over to your place about eight. He’ll show up later,” he said.

“He’s not a psycho anymore?”

“Well, he’s not acting like he was Saturday anymore. But as far as being a psycho…..”

She was very nervous that evening. Vinnie did all he could to ease her mind. He was a good friend.

Finally, at eight thirty, Roger knocked on her loft door. Vinnie let him in while she sat on the couch. Vinnie stayed in the background by the door.

Roger looked much healthier, mentally and physically, as he walked over and sat down in the chair opposite her. Black jeans, gray T-shirt, black leather jacket. He seemed as nervous as she felt. She waited for him to speak.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She swallowed hard.

“I’m, uh, sorry for that Linda Blair thing I pulled the other day. You didn’t deserve that.” He sounded unsure of himself. Very unlike him.

“Are you feeling better?” She was already beginning to feel warm to him again.

“Still got a bitch of a headache. But it’ll take more than a gallon of whiskey to kill me. Are, um, you all right? I know I was a real ass.”

“I’m okay now. I just wasn’t prepared for that side of you, Roger.”

“I know. I wish you hadn’t seen it. I’ll never let it happen again. I mean, if you even care. If you ever wanna have anything to do with me again.”

“You coulda brought some flowers or something, Roga. For Christsake.” Vinnie put in his two cents from the back of the room.

“I did. I just didn’t bring them in. Wanted to test the waters first.” Roger was up then and out of the chair and at the door.

He opened the door just enough to reach outside and pick up a huge arrangement of white and red roses off the hallway floor. He brought them over and set them on the table in the middle of himself and her. He handed her the little card with a pursed lips look on his face.

She took it and opened it. It said, “Even if you never speak to me again, and I’ll understand if you don’t, please just forgive me.”

She felt the tears coming back. But she didn’t want to cry. She looked at him, and he smiled at her. Just a little smile. A sad smile.

“The flowers are gorgeous. Thank you.”

“But what about the note?”

“Well, I……uh……I might find a way to forgive you.” She smiled at him.

“Can I go now?” She’d almost forgotten Vinnie over by the door.

Roger turned around to him. “See ya,” he told him.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Roga.”

“It’s okay, Vinnie. I think he’s sedated enough tonight. Thanks,” she said to him while looking at Roger.

“No more fucking around, Roga.”

“Yeah, Vince. Whatever. Now beat it.”

Vinnie did leave then, and they were alone. And everything was okay again. They spent the night there in her apartment. In her bed. Together again. And it felt right.