Interview of Forgiveness

"She said she didn't care?"

"She said she didn't care." For Nathaniel, the words said it all as if that was all that needed to be said, for in his mind the judgment that had needed to be placed upon the situation as a whole had already been passed and those five words summarized it. Lost in self-absorption, he forgot that Raymond did not have the same foreknowledge and jurisprudence.

"What do you mean she doesn't care?" Raymond said, leaning forward out of his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, one hand cupped over the other. "How can she not care if you fool around with someone else?"

"I don't get it,” Nathaniel said, shrugging. “If she kissed anyone I'd be pissed. I could get over it, but I'd be mad. If she did anything more I'd be furious. Well maybe if she just let someone go up her shirt it wouldn't be that, but if she went that far, she'd probably end up sucking his dick too."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Raymond said, "slow down. You are way ahead of me. Let's go back a second. Mattie said exactly what regarding exactly what?"

"Well you know Mattie and I are really serious, and God willing, will never break up. I mean, I think that she’s the one. Well, we were talking and I told her I had this thing for blondes, that I'd never been with one, and she said that I was being silly and if it was that important that I should do it."

"Hmm." Raymond pushed his long, black hair out of his face and looked upward, biting his lip. After a moment, he leveled his gaze, looking into Nathan’s eyes, searching for meaning. Despite the intense aura that he gave off, Raymond was calm: merely carefully trying to calculate the most likely shard of truth from the myriad pieces of possibility, gauging his own acquired knowledge of human behavior and its precipitates, balanced with the inherent half-lies and facades that accompanied most people’s dialogues. "She's willing to let you be free rather than lose you, is that it?"

"I guess so."

"What if she told you that she'd slept with someone?"

"I'd be so hurt, Ray. You don't even understand."

"Would you dump her?"

"Probably."

"But you'd do the same to her?" Ray asked.

"I don't know,” Nathaniel said. “But if I did, I don't think it'd hurt her that much."

"Hmm."

"Ray that's what's killing me. I can't bear that discrepancy between what she's letting me do and what I'd let her do. I don't know if she's giving me a freedom I shouldn't have or if I'm holding onto her too tightly."

"Well, the basis of a monogamous relationship is just to be with one person, right?" Raymond asked.

"Yeah."

"So I think we can assume that you're not holding on too tight."

"But maybe I'm too jealous, too possessive. Maybe things are moving too fast, are too serious. Maybe she isn’t ready to be with just me for the rest of her life?" Nathaniel stood up, pulling down the pantlegs of his blue jeans that had ridden up while he had been slouching on the sofa, and he began to walk in circles around the room. "Perhaps,” Raymond said. “That is one thing you need to ask yourself. But you also need to ask if you think she really wants you to be with some blonde girl?"

"I don't know."

"Of course she doesn't. But maybe she prefers you sticking your dick into some other girl as opposed to losing you."

"Ray."

"I'm serious. I bet she said that if you really have to fuck someone or get your dick sucked, you do it, but if you ever feel anything more than what is physical, then you're in trouble."

Nathaniel's head snapped up, looking right at Raymond. "Yeah, she did say something like that."

“Or that could all just be a cover because she wants to sleep with someone.”

“Ray!”

"Just a thought.”

“Jesus, thanks.”

“Well you need to consider it,” Ray said.

“I’d prefer not to," Nathan said.

Ray watched Nathaniel carefully, his eyes trailing his friend’s pacing. The corner of his lip curled and his head bobbed once. “Okay,” he said. “Okay back to the other thing then.”

“Right,” Nathan said.

“Well, it might be that she knows whatever your body does is not what your heart does. If that’s how it is, it could be that she’s more concerned with the love you two share than anything else."

"Yeah, but if she fucked some other guy,” Nathan threw his hands up in the air as he paced. “If she did that—like you were saying before—I'm not gonna be able to think about how much she loves me. All I'm gonna be able to think about is the two of them together. And that mental imagery is gonna tear me apart."

"You don't know that's what's going to happen, if that happens” Raymond shrugged.

"Yes I do! It's happened to me before Raymond! Remember when I dated Lynn? She wanted to see other people, but still stay together. I said okay like an idiot and then she went out right away and fucked some other guy! It fuckin' killed me Ray. I had to leave her. I couldn't find any peace inside my head 'cause all I saw was them."

"Hmm." Raymond looked up at Nathan standing before him, his cheeks slightly flushed, his eyes roaming, and his thin frame tense. Ray did not know exactly what Nathaniel wanted from him; it appeared to him that Nate already knew everything he had said. It was if he didn't so much need Raymond to help or advise him as much as he just needed someone to listen. It was a feature of human nature that Raymond always found particularly boring.

"So fuck a blonde, fuck a redhead, fuck a brunette, who cares right? She said it’s okay so do it."

"Come on, Ray. She's not gonna stay around forever if I do that. Besides, if it would make her feel even one-tenth of how I felt—"

“Jesus,” Ray said. “Enough of the melodrama.”

Nathaniel just stared at his friend, then turned, pulling his hands together behind his back, thinking.

Raymond pulled out a small rectangular silver case from his pocket. He opened it and retrieved a hand-rolled cigarette. Pulling out an engraved, silver lighter from the other pocket, he lit it, drawing in the smoke until it puffed outward, only then moving the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling. "Don't you have legal briefs to go over," he asked, leaning back in the chair again.

"Fuck you Raymond! My work can wait."

Raymond shrugged.

Nathaniel just looked at him, imploringly.

Raymond stared back, finally answering, his eyes boring into Nathaniel as much as his answer did. "Push her."

"What?"

"Push her. If she says she doesn't care, push her. See what it takes to make her care."

Nate loosened his tie and let it drop onto the couch, on top of his black jacket. He sat down despairingly. "That’s pretty cold.”

“Sometimes you have to be cold. Look how many people aren’t and see how many of their relationships fail because of some sentimental foolishness or another.”

“But I don't want to lose her," Nate said.

Raymond's eyes flared behind the glare of the lit tobacco; smoke curled around his lips as he spoke softly. "But you want to push her, don't you? The voices inside you have said fuck her, if she'll let you fuck other people and she won't care, fuck her, push her. They've said that, but you've been afraid to listen haven't you?"

Nathaniel said nothing.

Raymond returned the silence, moving only to ash his cigarette in the ashtray on the table next to the chair. Putting the cigarette back in between his lips and holding it there, he leaned forward and picked up a bound book with a pen stuck in between the pages. He sat back in the chair, retrieving the cigarette, exhaling, letting rings of smoke slowly ascend upward into the living room. With his other hand, Raymond opened to where the pen was. He looked down at where he had left off, and took up the pen.

"Please do push her, Nathaniel, maybe it'll be the inspiration for my next story."

* * *

The doorbell rang. Raymond looked up from his notebook, annoyed, and ignored it. It rang again. Slowly, Raymond looked up at the door, as if his glare could intimidate his visitor into leaving. It rang again. He tossed his book onto the coffee table aftermarking it again with the pen; he stood up and went to answer the door. As he opened it, there stood a woman of average height, with long brown hair that was tinged slightly red and a shapely, hourglass-shaped body. She pushed past Raymond, her heels clicking loudly on the wooden floor.

"Took ya long enough. Where's Nate?"

Raymond closed the door slowly and inhaled. He exhaled. "He's not here."

The woman threw her hands into the air and let them drop again as she plopped onto the sofa. "That pussy out with Mattie again?"

"No."

"Where'd he go?" she asked.

"Out."

"You're real fun to talk to."

"I try," Raymond said.

She picked up his book and opened it.

"Toni, don't you dare read that," he said, pointing his finger at her, letting his gaze burrow into her.

She tossed it down again. "Never liked your work, anyway."

"Better than yours," Raymond said.

"Bah," Toni said, waving her hand dismissively at him.

Gradually, Raymond made his way back to his chair and forced himself to sit down.

"Aren't you gonna offer me a drink or anything?"

Raymond simply scowled at Toni. It wasn't so much that he didn't like her, it just seemed as if the powerful autonomy of each one's personality drove against the other, like two stars exerting opposing gravitational forces.

"So where'd he go?"

"To fuck someone hopefully."

Toni had already begun to speak, as if she wasn't really waiting for an answer, or as if she just didn't care what Raymond had to say, but what he had said was so unexpected, she stopped what she had been about to say, her jaw hanging limp.

"If all goes well, that is," Raymond shrugged.

"Wait a minute. He's not out with Mattie?" Toni asked.

"No."

"And he's going to fuck someone?"

"Hopefully," Raymond said.

"Why?" Toni asked.

The story wasn't long to tell, and truth be told, Raymond figured Toni would understand as well as anyone. Raymond thwas thus not surprised that she did seem to grasp the situation, if not condone it all together. Unfortunately, once told, she did not leave as Raymond had hoped.

"Did you ever wonder if life was easier back when the laws of no premarital sex were really enforced?" he asked.

"Hunh?"

Raymond lit up a cigarette and looked over at Toni. "The laws were actually created by some thirteenth-century pope, okay? But think of it: back then people were betrothed, married at 18 or 20 (for men, I think around 14 for women), and then lived with that person forever. Parents and culture dictated separation from the other sex, so until you were ready to be married, you either had no chance to experiment or you had no desire yet. So no dating, no deciphering the opposite sex to interact correctly, and most importantly, no complications of sex."

"Complications?” Toni laughed. “I've always found that part rather enjoyable."

“You would,” Raymond said, exhaling smoke.

Toni shrugged.

"Hmm. But look at it,” he persisted. “Yes, the physical and even emotional acts of intercourse are fine, but look at the emotional precipice it places you on. Look at how vulnerable you are to hurt when one person betrays that trust, especially if they share that intimacy and power with another person in their betrayal."

"For Christ's sake, Raymond, you gotta deal with that shit. That’s life."

"That's not my point."

"Then what is?" she asked.

"Simply don't you think that was easier?" he asked.

"What if the guy you were betrothed to was impotent? What if you were incompatible as lovers, much less as a couple? There was plenty of shit that went wrong then, too. Especially because of that lack of experience. People went and found other adulterous relationships. Especially the men, for Christ’s sake. How much better is all of that?"

"Hmm. I suppose you’re right."

"Suppose nothing." Toni kicked off her shoes, pulled up her legs, and sat cross-legged, while pointing towards Raymond for emphasis. "Sure we have AIDS and gonorrhea and syphilis and herpes and all that shit, and the pain and the heartache of relationship after doomed relationship until we find that one—if we find that one—and affairs and lost love and all that crap, but you gotta deal with it, you know? You can't just sit on your ass and wish everything was okay and only if everything would just be like the 'good old days,' the 'golden ages,' when everything was perfect. There was no time like that. Things were fucked up then and they're fucked up now and they'll always be fucked up. End of story."

"Hmm. I didn’t really think so. Just throwing ideas out."

“Bastard.”

Raymond shrugged.

"So give me a beer and let's write some stuff.” Her eyes twinkled. “And wait for Nate to come home."

* * *

It was cloudy, yet rays of sun broke through onto Nathaniel's shoulders; he could feel the heat through his black leather jacket, even though it was cold out. He sat on the park bench, waiting for Mattie. It was Saturday and he finally had some rest from work. Or at least he would for a few hours, before he sat down with what he had brought home for the weekend. The last few nights had given him a lot to think about. Too much, actually, and now he had to let his conclusions fly.

In time, he saw Mattie approach; her shiny black hair danced in the wind, falling around her green winter coat. He could imagine her bright green eyes and her small nose, perched atop her thin lips and her small chin—she really was beautiful, he thought—and she had a thin, well-toned and exercised body. He watched her walk.

"How are the computers, Mattie?" he asked as she approached.

"Fine, and New York's newest lawyer?"

"All right," he shrugged, standing.

They hugged. They kissed. They sat down.

"What?" she asked in response to his further silence.

He only stroked her cheek softly, letting his finger roll across her ear, and over into and through her hair, gently avoiding her lingering gaze. She blinked, avoiding the talk for a moment, savoring his touch, then looked over at him again.

"Is something wrong, Nathaniel?"

"I don't know." He still did not look her in her eyes.

"What do you mean?" Her smile wavered, as she wanted to still put up the facade of consolation, but on the inside was already fearing the worst.

"I don't know."

"Nate, what? I can't help you if you don't tell me what's bothering you."

"Well, I guess it depends on how honest you were with me." Now Nate gazed directly into her eyes, letting his own green-blue eyes spill back into her own, shining under the sparse sunlight from above.

"How honest I was? What do you mean?" Mattie was no different than anyone else in the regard that when faced with a problematic uncertainty, she tended to assume worse than the worst possible reality; whether this was a human function to overcompensate so as to make the actual blow lighter, inherent human cynicism, or what have you. Regardless, the smile was completely gone now. She put a hand on his knee, but could do no more.

"How honest you were about loving me."

"Nate, I do lo—"

"With how honest you were about letting me do what I have to do."

"What do—" the words might have still spilled out of her mouth, but after that point neither heard them, but it didn't matter; the phrase needed go no further because at that exact moment both knew exactly what had happened and how they already had to deal with it and the only variable was what the other person would do to bridge the disparities.

Nathaniel said nothing.

Mattie looked away, her hair blowing back in the wind, her hand retreating to her own lap. She knew, but still she had to ask. "You slept with someone else?"

Nathaniel only stared into her eyes, which wouldn’t meet his.

"A blonde?" she asked, looking up.

Nathan looked away.

"Christ. You didn't have to go do it so soon," she said.

"The situation arose," Nathan answered.

"When?"

"Two nights ago."

"You went out Thursday?"

He nodded.

"With who?"

"No one."

"You went out alone?" Mattie asked.

He nodded again.

She looked away once more, fixing her gaze on a statue across the field for a moment, then looked back. "Was she good? Did you get what you wanted?"

"What?" Nathan stood up, running his hand through his short, brown hair. "Why are you asking me that kind of crap?"

"If you're gonna cheat on me, I want to know if it was worth it. Was she everything you hoped for from a light-haired lady?"

"Yes. It was good. Is that what you want to hear? She was a good fuck. We both had the time of our goddamn lives. Woo-hah! Is that what you fucking want from me?"

Mattie stood up and held onto his arms, which were gesticulating wildly. "Hey, hey! I thought if anyone was, I'm supposed to be the one that's mad."

His eyes still flaring, Nate looked into her laughing eyes. What was so fucking funny? He didn't understand why she was reacting that way.

"Hello?"

Nate snapped back and blinked. "I'm here. What?"

"It's okay, Nate. All right?"

Nate blinked again.

“It’s all right. It was just a shock. I didn’t expect to hear that from you. Okay?”

"Yeah," Nathan said slowly, as if suspicious.

"Just, you know, don't make a habit of this, okay?" Mattie asked.

"Yeah," Nathaniel said, still not believing his ears.

"Good." Mattie wrapped her arms around him, hugging him; almost involuntarily, his arms returned the gesture. "I still love you, dummy. If you have to do that every now and then to feel free or alive or whatever you need to feel, that's fine. It's just sex. Just don't ever give your heart to anyone but me. And don’t ever embarrass me with it. And always be honest with me. I'd rather let you do this, than lose you."

"Don't you care?" he wanted to ask, not realizing he had.

She slapped his forehead playfully. "Of course I do, stupid. You just gotta remember that. I'm only giving you this freedom because I care. Okay?"

"Yeah," Nathaniel said, still expecting a different response even though she was well and done with the subject.

"Let's go get something to eat." She took him by his hand and pulled him down the path towards the street; he allowed her because his mind was not there to resist.

Nathaniel, by all rights, should have been as happy as could be. Two nights ago, he had spent a highly pleasurable night of drinking and sex with a beautiful blonde, who honestly, was better looking even than Mattie, and definnitely not someone who had been sexually inhibited—and his girlfriend had allowed it. While there had been no emotions to speak of (love) it had been a fantasy fulfillment of sorts; he couldn't explain it, in a general sense, he was invariably aroused by blondes more so than women of other hair colors. And now, he had just been told that his girlfriend loved him still and would continue to do so over anything so trivial, over anything that didn't matter to their hearts, something like this, something he would have killed himself over had the situation been reversed and then she told him that he could do it again if he needed to.

He didn't see her smiles and he didn't know that he returned them, because he hadn't meant to. He was walking and perhaps even talking to her; he was eating with her, drinking sips of wine and making conversation, but he never knew any of it, because his mind was still working, still thinking of what he had done and what he had said, and how she had reacted to all of it. Shouldn't he be happy? Did he want to self-destruct? Surely that would be the most inane of inborn human traits if it did exist—surely that must not have been the case.

As he pondered human nature and the contrast between he and Mattie, he also walked her home and kissed her goodbye, holding her hand, but not her heart because he held it aloft and examined it seeking probing to find what could possibly be wrong with it that she wouldn't care when he had done something so egregiously wrong, okay okay he finally admitted it he was wrong yes he hurt himself if not her he shouldn't have fucked her what was even her name and Mattie didn't even care so what if he had been in denial before about what he had felt regarding what he knew for sure, though he really was confused now and the only thought he could grasp onto to make it all go away was an apology, which he whispered in a soft moan as he walked home alone.

"Sorry, Raymond. I guess I don't have anything good for you to write."