and you had to squeeze around the end of the bed to get into the bathroom, which had a shower but no
bath. The mirrored doors were probably intended to make the room look bigger but since all they reflected was the bed, it seemed as though the room was taken up entirely by this looming bed with
its pale pink cover.
I didn’t want to be with Carl. I didn’t want to touch him. When we walked from the hotel to a Chinese restaurant I left a gap big enough for another person to walk between us but
that other person had left me and I didn’t think he was coming back. All my desire had evaporated, and yet I knew that I was going to do it anyway. Sex was the destination our affair had been
leading to and now, with Johnny gone, there was no reason not to. Carl showered before bed, and when I showered after him, it felt like a ritual.
It happened in the middle of the night. Carl said, Look at us, and gestured to the mirrored doors where I saw us, naked, having sex. Here I am with you, said Carl, pausing to savour the moment.
I was already self-conscious and now I had to watch. I don’t like remembering this, and although I have successfully forgotten many details of that first time, such as how he initiated it,
whether I thought about Johnny, what we said to each other afterwards, how easily I managed to get back to sleep, I am left with this picture of me and Carl having sex in that vast pink bed.
I didn’t fall in love with Johnny: I jumped. I said I was wary of him when we met because of the other girl he’d been with that summer, and that was true, but I was
also wary because he was so good looking, so popular, and because the place was so romantic. I didn’t trust all this and so I held back, watching, waiting, until a few months later when
Johnny was staying with me. We’d been to the cinema on a mid-week afternoon. Afterwards we walked through a park and sat on a bench, watching people scurry home as the evening came down. The
feeling between us was like warm blue water, very wide and very deep. I suppose that neither one of us wanted to break that feeling because we stayed as it grew dark. I remember Johnny smiling at
me: his mouth twitched slightly, as though he was so happy he just kept pouring into that smile and it became so full that it overflowed into these twitches at the corners of his mouth. How good it
felt to be the subject of such a smile. The rush of people thinned out. Through the middle of the park was a path with streetlamps spaced at regular intervals. The streetlamps had come on without
our noticing. A cyclist rode along the path and there was a rhythm to how the rider moved through the darkness, dipped into the light, moved through the darkness and dipped into the light. Johnny
was already in love with me, and I could see that it would be all right to love him too. It was as though I didn’t really have a choice because I knew it was right, but maybe I knew
because somewhere inside I’d already chosen. Despite this, I hesitated: I was afraid, but I also knew that if I wanted to meet him there, I had to jump.
One evening, when they pinned me down, I explained my dilemma to Shirin and Delilah: Johnny is the perfect man for me, but it’s not the perfect time, and therefore how
can he be the perfect man? It wasn’t a proper question, but I wanted an answer.
Delilah said: Johnny is not the perfect man.
Shirin said: You’re too hooked on perfect.
Both of them knew, now, about Carl and though they never met him or even saw him, they didn’t think he was the perfect man either. In fact, everything I said about Carl disturbed them.
They didn’t like the sound of Carl, they didn’t like the situation I had put myself in and they didn’t like what I was doing to Johnny.
Shirin said: I’m worried about you, you should stop it with this guy or else what’s going to happen?
Delilah said: You should tell Johnny. Or stop. But you should probably tell him now anyway, it’s gone that
bath. The mirrored doors were probably intended to make the room look bigger but since all they reflected was the bed, it seemed as though the room was taken up entirely by this looming bed with
its pale pink cover.
I didn’t want to be with Carl. I didn’t want to touch him. When we walked from the hotel to a Chinese restaurant I left a gap big enough for another person to walk between us but
that other person had left me and I didn’t think he was coming back. All my desire had evaporated, and yet I knew that I was going to do it anyway. Sex was the destination our affair had been
leading to and now, with Johnny gone, there was no reason not to. Carl showered before bed, and when I showered after him, it felt like a ritual.
It happened in the middle of the night. Carl said, Look at us, and gestured to the mirrored doors where I saw us, naked, having sex. Here I am with you, said Carl, pausing to savour the moment.
I was already self-conscious and now I had to watch. I don’t like remembering this, and although I have successfully forgotten many details of that first time, such as how he initiated it,
whether I thought about Johnny, what we said to each other afterwards, how easily I managed to get back to sleep, I am left with this picture of me and Carl having sex in that vast pink bed.
I didn’t fall in love with Johnny: I jumped. I said I was wary of him when we met because of the other girl he’d been with that summer, and that was true, but I was
also wary because he was so good looking, so popular, and because the place was so romantic. I didn’t trust all this and so I held back, watching, waiting, until a few months later when
Johnny was staying with me. We’d been to the cinema on a mid-week afternoon. Afterwards we walked through a park and sat on a bench, watching people scurry home as the evening came down. The
feeling between us was like warm blue water, very wide and very deep. I suppose that neither one of us wanted to break that feeling because we stayed as it grew dark. I remember Johnny smiling at
me: his mouth twitched slightly, as though he was so happy he just kept pouring into that smile and it became so full that it overflowed into these twitches at the corners of his mouth. How good it
felt to be the subject of such a smile. The rush of people thinned out. Through the middle of the park was a path with streetlamps spaced at regular intervals. The streetlamps had come on without
our noticing. A cyclist rode along the path and there was a rhythm to how the rider moved through the darkness, dipped into the light, moved through the darkness and dipped into the light. Johnny
was already in love with me, and I could see that it would be all right to love him too. It was as though I didn’t really have a choice because I knew it was right, but maybe I knew
because somewhere inside I’d already chosen. Despite this, I hesitated: I was afraid, but I also knew that if I wanted to meet him there, I had to jump.
One evening, when they pinned me down, I explained my dilemma to Shirin and Delilah: Johnny is the perfect man for me, but it’s not the perfect time, and therefore how
can he be the perfect man? It wasn’t a proper question, but I wanted an answer.
Delilah said: Johnny is not the perfect man.
Shirin said: You’re too hooked on perfect.
Both of them knew, now, about Carl and though they never met him or even saw him, they didn’t think he was the perfect man either. In fact, everything I said about Carl disturbed them.
They didn’t like the sound of Carl, they didn’t like the situation I had put myself in and they didn’t like what I was doing to Johnny.
Shirin said: I’m worried about you, you should stop it with this guy or else what’s going to happen?
Delilah said: You should tell Johnny. Or stop. But you should probably tell him now anyway, it’s gone that
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