nothing. Then, “What about her?”
A beep came from Cal’s pocket. He took out his phone, responded quickly to a text, and put it back. Then he skidded down the little rise he’d climbed and resumed the hike. He was looking straight ahead when he said, “Something’s been bothering me all week, and I need to get it off my chest.”
His words and tone gave me pause, and I gulped.
“Something’s not right with her.”
“What do you mean?”
He broke the stick into two pieces and then started to break those pieces into even smaller pieces, tossing the fragmented twigs off the side of the trail as we walked. “I realize it’s not cool for me to put you in this position, being that she’s your boss. And if you and I didn’t have the history we have I wouldn’t even bring it up.”
“It’s OK,” I told him.
He ran his hand through his hair and said, “I think she’s seeing someone.”
My mouth went dry, and I had to swallow too many times to get any words out. “What makes you think that?”
“You can’t tell her we had this conversation.”
I made some gesture to indicate I wouldn’t.
He rolled the last piece of stick back and forth between his fingers and said, “She won’t fuck me.”
This caught me off guard for a couple of reasons, the main one being that I’d assumed they’d been fucking all week while I was alone in my room thinking about all the fucking they were doing.
Cal looked to his left, into the woods, and said, “Not once since I got back. Not even in Big Sur. And if your girlfriend won’t fuck you in Big Sur, you’ve got a problem.” He shook his head. “Every time I try, she makes an excuse. Fine, she jacked me off after I bugged her long enough, but that’s it. And trust me when I say October is a passionate woman. She usually jumps my bones the minute I get home. But for the last week and a half, nothing.”
I felt a rush of panic coming on and picked up the pace to get us home before I started acting guilty. “Have you asked her about this?”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“I brought it up a few times while we were gone, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Then I pressed her on it again this morning; she told me she’s going through some emotional stuff, and sex is too intense for her when she’s emotionally overwhelmed. She asked me to give her space. I said sure, and then I asked her if she could elaborate on what kind of emotional stuff; she told me that agreeing to give her space means agreeing to stop asking her questions.” Cal shook his head. “The last time I used that line, that I needed space, I’d married a woman I hardly knew and was screwing my ex-girlfriend behind her back.”
Apprehensively, I said, “Have you asked October specifically if there’s someone else?”
“See, this is where it gets complicated. I can’t ask her that. I’m not allowed.”
“I don’t understand.”
It was getting cold out, and I zipped up my jacket. Cal didn’t have a jacket. He dropped the last remaining twig, put his hands deep in his pockets, and hunched up his shoulders.
“We have this arrangement,” he said. “Since we spend so much time apart. We’re supposed to be allowed to see other people, as long as it’s a no-strings-attached sort of thing. You know, casual. Believe it or not, it was her idea. I went along with it because in theory it sounds awesome, right? And because I was in love with her and wanted her to think I was open-minded and all that shit. But I’m not, really. Anyway, not asking each other about our extracurricular activities is one of the rules. It’s the biggest rule. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Our relationship is like the fucking army.”
Thank God for that, I thought.
It was almost fully dark, and Cal said, “You know where we are, yes?”
I could see Beanstalk up ahead and nodded. “Less than a quarter mile from the house.”
Cal was looking at me like he was waiting for me to give him advice, but I was at a loss and ended up asking him a question that was more pertinent to me than to him. “So, you see other women then?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Though I usually feel guilty as fuck when it happens, even though I’m allowed to do it.” He rubbed his hands together to