My departure had to be slightly postponed, however, because while we were having breakfast, Philip said, “There’s something I hesitate to bring up.”
“Yes?”
“I really hesitate to bring it up, because you’ll think it’s very strange of me.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it’s a favor I’m tempted to ask of you, but if I do ask it, you must absolutely refuse if it’s at all distasteful to you.”
I started feeling tense. “Okay. What is it?”
“I don’t know if I should ask it. It’s embarrassing.”
I wasn’t sure he should ask it either, whatever it was. “Does it have anything to do with Damon or anything we talked about?”
“No.”
I grew more worried. I picked up my teacup and mumbled into it, “Well, it’s up to you if you want to ask it.”
“Okay, I will ask it, but only if you promise not to let it destroy your opinion of me.”
Beads of sweat formed on my forehead.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you look so uncomfortable,” he said. “Forget I said anything. It’s not important.”
“Oh, okay.”
“But just so you don’t imagine terribly perverted things, all I was going to ask is if you wouldn’t mind throwing me off a diving board. That was all. There are so few women I meet who give me the urge to be thrown by them. But it doesn’t matter. Did you inquire about the flights back to New York?”
I felt I had to be polite. Meekly and hesitantly, I said, “I wouldn’t mind throwing you off a diving board.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. But why? What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. And I prefer not to think about it too deeply. It depresses me.”
He got on the phone, and I heard him say, “I met a woman I want to be thrown by. She said she’ll do it. Do you mind if we come over?”
We took a cab to the house of a friend of his, who had a pool. The friend turned out to be Philip’s very good-looking costar, Ron Moss, who played Ridge on The Bold and the Beautiful.
It was a strange sensation to lift half a man. Philip was of course lighter than a whole man. I carried him in my arms and climbed onto the diving board. I felt doubly nervous with Ridge looking on.
I asked Philip, “Do you want to be thrown in head first or—” I was going to say “feet first,” but stopped myself in time. I couldn’t very well say “stump first.” Nor could I say, “genitals first,” even though that’s where he ended. And I couldn’t get myself to say “butt first” either. So I left my question unfinished, which turned out to be fine.
He said he wanted me to choose which end of him I would throw in first, that that was part of the pleasure for him.
So I decided to throw him butt first, which I thought would minimize the damage, in case of a bad throw.
As he fell in, he seemed to relish the moment; he opened his arms wide, as if doing an inverted swan dive.
He then swam toward the edge. Ridge pulled him out of the water and placed him back in his wheelchair.
I flew home having made a decision.
Chapter Fourteen
I decided I would set Damon free. Worse than that, I would enter Damon’s cage, to prove to myself that I finally understood him and that he wouldn’t hurt me, kill me, or lock me in the cage. It was also to show him that I trusted him. I wanted us to be friends if possible. I wanted us to be normal people, standing in front of each other out of our own free will. What an interesting sensation it would be, to have a conversation with Damon without one of us being the other’s captive.
When I arrived home, I peeked through the one-way mirror. Damon was jogging in place in his cage. I donned my fencing armor. Before going in, I peeked again through the mirror. Damon was on the floor, doing pushups.
As soon as I entered the room, he got up, panting, and clapped the floor dust from his hands. He glanced around his cage, grabbed some tuna cans and threw them at me. They bounced off my mask. He threw every object he had, including the can opener. Then he plopped down on his bed, tired, and said, “How was your trip?”
“Very enlightening.”
“Enlightening?”
“Yes.”
“And what aspect of life did it enlighten?” he asked, his hand encountering something hard in his sheets. He uncovered the object: another unopened can of tuna. He threw it at me.
“The aspect I couldn’t understand,” I said.
“That goes without saying. What aspect was that?”
“I’m not in the mood to talk about it right now.”
“Oh? And what mood are you in?”
“I think … I’m in an insane mood.”
I approached the door of his cage and unlocked it. I stepped inside, holding on to the bars to make sure I wouldn’t fall down from fright.
We stared at each other, barely breathing. He looked frozen, and I wondered if he was afraid of me. The possibility made me laugh. Just one laugh: one loud, awkward, nervous, “Ha!” The sound of it was so funny and silly that two more came out of me, equally funny and silly. I held my breath to block the others.
Damon got up and approached me. His hands reached toward my face, and he pulled off my mask.
He gazed into my eyes for a long moment and kissed me.
I didn’t care how insane it was; how sick and embarrassing — not to mention banal and unoriginal, not to mention dangerous — to be kissing your assailant. The only two things that made it slightly less objectionable were that he was my ex-assailant and that I had been his assailant too, since then.
We kissed passionately, and astonishingly lovingly, for two mutual assailants. I was able to forget, for a few moments at a time, the possibility that he might suddenly turn around and lock me in the cage. I was able to forget, and then I would remember, and then forget again, when his enthusiasm, like a wave, transported me away from thought.
Slowly, gradually, we started making love. But we had barely just begun, when I jumped off the bed, grabbed my clothes, and ran out of the cage. He grabbed his clothes and ran after me at a phenomenal rate. I rushed down the stairs and out of my building. He followed me. When we were in the street, we stopped running, got dressed, and I said, “Why are you running after me?”
“I’m not running after you. I was running out of that cage, that room, and your apartment before you had a chance to lock me in again. Why were you running?”
“For the same reason.”
“That doesn’t make sense. I couldn’t have kept you locked in, while going in and out of your building as I pleased. As soon as people found you missing, the first place they would check is your apartment.”
“That’s true,” I said, and was tempted to suggest that we go back upstairs and continue where we left off. But then I came to my senses. “No, actually, you’re wrong. You could find a way to sneak me out of the building and take me back to a cage in some house in the country.”
“Huh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Is that supposed to mean you wish you had thought of it because you think it’s a good idea?”
“No. I just meant: huh, I hadn’t thought of that legitimate reason you could have to be afraid of me in your apartment, the same way I’m afraid of you.”
I nodded. We kissed again. Between kisses, I mumbled, “What are we going to do?”
“The options are limited. We could wait till we’re no longer afraid.”
“No! That would take too long. It could take days, or months, or years, or never happen.”
“I know. Even hours would be long,” he said.
It was too cold to stay outside, especially for Damon, who could not wear opaque clothing. So we decided to go to a movie theater. We sat in the back row and continued kissing, never looking at the screen. I felt as if I should be wearing a seat belt.