DRIVING UNDER THE INFLUENCE

Romantic Short Fiction

By Annie Elliott

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I am a grammatically-conscious English major, but I am visually impaired. Please forgive the occasional spelling or grammar mistake. I have a hard time noticing them, no matter how often I proof-read, due to the trouble I have with my eyes. There shouldn’t be anything grievous.

Thank you for your patience.

Annie

Chapter One – Lucky Charm

Mathias Grant didn’t like black coffee, but he drank it anyway. He preferred the special coffees the ones laced with caramel, vanilla, or alcohol, but the first two weren’t healthy, and the last only made him feel worthless and lethargic. He wasn’t a very pleasant drunk, and, at a height of six feet and a weight of only 140 pounds, he didn’t hold his drink sufficiently to justify an alcoholic coffee before bed. He sat in the back room of the Robinton County Public Library, and drank his unappealing beverage, leafing dispassionately through the pages of the newspaper, checking his watch every time he turned a page. It was eleven thirty, and the library closed at midnight. Maybe it was time to go home. On the other hand, it was only a half hour, and he was too entrenched in the frumpy, floppy library armchair to be keen on moving himself just yet.

“Four men killed in car crash on the Potomac Bridge,” the headline of the Robinton Reporter read. Right beneath that was the equally uplifting title, “Local Rock icon dies at age thirty of unknown causes – alcoholism suspected.”
“No shit,” murmured Mathias, rubbing his eyes. He looked at his watch again. Now it was eleven thirty five.

A nasty cough wracked him unexpectedly, and he sat there for a few moments, hacking into the newspaper, shaking his head to try and clear his bleary eyes. Glancing out the window, he saw that it had finally quit sleeting. They never seemed to get snow in Robinton County, just sleet, or freezing rain, or some other unpleasant gift from the heavens that always closed and blocked up the major roadways. Not that Robinton, right outside of Fairfax Virginia, had a lot of major roadways. Mostly it had road kill and unplowed neighborhoods, sometimes neighborhoods that were so stopped up with road kill that they needed to be plowed; the driving in Robinton County had never been exemplary.

Mathias closed up the newspaper, deciding that the news was bringing him down even more than the nasty weather had been. Prying himself out of the chair, he made a grab for his briefcase, which was lying on the floor, and stood up.

Mathias was a dignified man, with light brown hair going silver at the roots, now that he’d reached his forty-eighth He grazed the side of a nearby bookshelf with his air as he stood up too quickly, and grimaced offensively at the malevolent piece of furniture. He’d never been entirely master of his height, and he was prone to hitting things just lightly enough to sustain a bruise, without causing any material damage. His mother, a powerful woman of only five feet, thought it was hilarious.

He started coughing again as he set off through the stacks, towards the exit and the parking lot. Unhappily, he wondered if he’d managed to catch some sort of flu in the ten minutes that he’d let himself be out in the rain. Leaning against a stack of books, he paused for a moment, catching his breath as he waited for the coughing fit to ebb.

“That’s a nasty virus you’ve got,” a librarian said, as she passed him with a stack of sixteenth-century literature balanced elegantly in her arms. “Probably not a good idea to be out late in weather like this.”

“I’m fine,” Mathias replied, stifling yet another choking cough as he went for the door. “Thank you.”

“All right,” shrugged the librarian, returning the books to a shelf. “Take care, now.”

Mathias’ car was parked at the very opposite end of the, granted, rather small and entirely vacant library parking lot. Pulling his brown coat tighter over his white work-shirt, Mathias stepped off the tiny ledge that lay just outside of the library doors, caught the heel of his shoe against a crack in the concrete, and slipped gracelessly down, landing on his hands on the pavement of the parking lot. He felt his fingers scrape painfully on the asphalt, as he hurriedly righted himself. Teetering uncertainly on his feet on the icy ground, Mathias fell forward again almost immediately, as another incessant fit of hacking seized him.

“All right now, what did I tell you,” came the voice of the librarian behind him. Freezing fingers closed around Mathias’ elbow, and he found himself being tugged gently upright.

“It’s dark,” the librarian was saying, planting one of those cold hands on her hip as she rolled her eyes at him. “And you’re in real good shape, aren’t you. Come back in here before you kill yourself on the ice, and I’ll call you a taxi cab.”

Mathias rubbed his hands uncomfortable against his pant legs, feeling the burn of the bleeding cuts he’d sustained on both hands during the fall. Trying to hide his wounds from his rescuer, Mathias bit down hard on his lip, and tried to fix his eyes on something that would take his mind off of the pain.

The librarian who’d come to his aid, he noticed, was a young woman, probably no older than twenty three or twenty four, wearing baggy tweed slacks, and a uniform shirt with a white button, on which was printed “Need help? I’ve come to save the day!” She was built like a swimmer, not slim, but well-curved, with vaguely muscular shoulders that protruded somewhat prominently from her otherwise soft frame. As she spoke to him, she crossed and uncrossed her arms over her chest, making Mathias aware of how cold it really was in the building.

The most remarkable thing, though, was the woman’s hair. Women of what he presumed to be her age rarely experimented with their hair color in such a drastic way, Mathias thought. The woman in question had a shocking bob of pale pink that, with the roots slightly showing through, looked like it might once have been a very pretty shade of auburn.

Apparently noticing where Mathias’ gaze had rested, the librarian smiled, and rolled her eyes. She didn’t offer any explanation, but self-consciously put a hand to the back of her head, as if to rearrange her hair. She apparently thought better of it, because she cleared her throat, and gestured Mathias peremptorily to a nearby armchair. “Have a seat,” she said, “and I’ll just go make the phone call.”

“It’s fine,” Mathias started, as the librarian moved towards the phone on the nearby help desk. “I’m not going home anyway.”

“Yes you are,” the librarian replied, without looking up. “I wouldn’t trust you to walk three blocks at the moment, and I don’t’ expect you’d have a lot of success trying to run errands in your state. You can do whatever it is in the morning.”

“I haven’t eaten since six o’clock this morning,” Mathias insisted. “Please, I’ll just walk over to the diner. But thank you, you’re very kind. It’s very considerate of you.”

The librarian raised her eyebrows at him, the phone suspended in her hand. “You’re a walking health hazard,” she said, widening her eyes at him as she replaced the receiver. “But there’s nothing open at this time of night anyway. The diner closes at ten. I don’t’ know where you’ve been living, but this city doesn’t’ stay open later than ten o’clock any night of the week.”

“This isn’t much of a city,” Mathias said with a sigh.

“More like a hole in the ground,” the librarian agreed, crossing to him. “But que sera, sera, as they say. Whatever will be, will be. And if you’ll let me make you a bowl of cereal, I think you’ll be a lot better.” She crossed to the other end of the counter, and bent down to rummage around in one of the low cabinets beneath the desk. “I think I have lucky charms,” she was saying, as she triumphantly pulled out a large and colorful children’s cereal box and presented it to him. “Maybe that isn’t terribly dignified, but we keep it for the little ones on Sunday mornings.”

“You’re a sainted lady,” Mathias smiled, watching with relief as the librarian went briefly into the back room, and returned from it carrying a porcelain children’s bowl, decorated with ducks and piglets, and a container of skim milk. “Nursing the health back into wear travelers with marshmallow cereal.”

“They tell us that we shouldn’t give this to the kids,” the librarian grimaced, “because it’s too sugary and not good for them. I think kids should be allowed to have some sugar. Today, all we talk about is “looking healthy” when in reality, for a little kid to have some marshmallows in their cereal is totally healthy and normal.” She rolled her eyes. “You, on the other hand, are a grown man, and even if you can’t be trusted to walk to your car alone, I imagine you can make your own nutritional decisions. I assume you won’t report me.”

“Far be it from me,” agreed Mathias. She set the bowl down in front of him, and he ate the cereal greedily, feeling almost like one of the little children that she’d been speaking of as he did so. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and now he was suddenly aware of why it was he’d been so tired. The librarian didn’t watch him eat, but she giggled when he accidentally slurped some of the milk. “Sorry,” muttered Mathias, trying to look like he mature, nearing-fifty businessman that he really was. “I was hungry.”

“No doubt.” She took the hastily emptied bowl out from under him with a sweep of her hand, and deposited it on the counter.

“Thanks,” Mathias said, trying not to feel too comfortable in the armchair she’d put him in.” Really, thank you. I needed that more than I knew.” He paused, then, remembering some vague strains of courtesy, added, “I’m Mathias Grant. I’m an ophthalmologist. Robinton County Ophthalmology. We’re just down the street.”

“Oh really?” the librarian asked him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you the senior partner?”

“Far from it.” Mathias replied blankly, unperturbed. The librarian grinned.

“Sorry,” she said. “Valentina Markowitz. That’s my name. I’m um. Well, I’m a librarian. Full time. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you before.

“Valentina…Markowitz.” Mathias gave his savior a hard look. “And you’re from-!”

“My mother’s an orthodox, ashkenazic Jew,” Valentina cut him off. “My father’s from Firenze, Italy. My mother left my father sixteen years ago, so my father gave me my first name, but I have her last.”

It sounded like a litany that Valentina had recited many a time. Mathias nodded at her, unsure of how to respond to it.

“Everyone asks about the name,” she continued, filling the silence for him. “My first boyfriend in college was unhappy when he found out, six months into our relationship, that my father wasn’t Jewish. Apparently it made a difference to him, although I don’t think it really is supposed to. I think it’s a nice, unique name You didn’t find a lot of Valentina Markowitzes on my high school attendance sheets. Not like Katharine Smith, or Sarah Brown. There were a lot of Sarah Browns.”

“Is that so?” Mathias blinked heavily, trying to keep the dreariness he felt out of his tone. Valentina’s animated face kept flickering in front of him, as he struggled with his failing consciousness. Silently, he cursed himself for getting too old, for being unable to keep up with the working world that was, nowadays, perfectly comfortable with the early hours of the morning.

“And you’re exhausted,” announced Valentina, watching Mathias’ eyelids drooping helplessly. “Come on, it’s time to get you home.”

Obediently, Mathias stood up, and pulled his car keys out of his pocket, turning towards the door. “Oh no,” interjected Valentina, “absolutely not. We’re taking my car.”

Mathias groaned. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Thank you. I appreciate all of your help, you’ve been a real sweetheart.”

Valentina brushed past him, heading towards the parking lot. As if he hadn’t spoken, she motioned to him over her shoulder, saying “it’s just around the back. The big red van. We call it Clifford, the big fucking red car. You can’t miss it.”

She started off without him, leaving Mathias to watch her as she turned the corner, crossing right in front of Mathis’ own car, and heading around the back of the building, ostensibly towards employee parking. He followed her, feeling stupid and lethargic, too aware of how frumpy and foolish he looked in his work shirt and black pants. He felt like the drunkard who lived next door, who he always found lolling around in the street outside his house, too tired and worn out to get the key in the lock of his own door.

“Here we go,” Valentina was saying, She unlocked the door to her huge, ugly red minivan with the bleep of her automatic car key, and clambered into the driver’s seat, right over top of the passenger seat. Turning, she waited as Mathias, slid into the seat next to her, and closed the door behind him. She started the car, leaned forward in the seat, as if to pres the accelerator, and then, blinking, turned to Mathias, looking foolish. “Oh yeah,” she said, “where do you live?””

“Take a right here,” Mathias said, waving a hand vaguely in the direction to which he referred. “You want to be on Clarion Street.”

They drove on in some silence for a while, and Mathias leaned back against the headrest, idly watching the familiar streets and roadside business. Valentina drove like an amateur, and Mathis wondered suddenly if perhaps he should have asked her how long she’d had her driver’s license. It wasn’t that she was an unsafe driver. She just tended to take turns a little hesitantly, waiting until the last possible second to get out of the way of an oncoming car. Mathis wondered if anyone had ever told her to drive defensively, that she should always watch the other cars before she looked at the traffic lights. He decided that it wasn’t his place to tell her. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, he thought, and, after all, the more he watched the road, the more he realized that she’d been right to prevent him from driving himself home.

“Here,” he said, pointing out a street sign. “Meritt Drive, that’s me.”

“What’s the house number?” Valentina made an unexpectedly expert last-minute swing around the street sign, and inserted herself between two parked cars sitting at the entrance to Meritt Drive.

“2011,” Mathis muttered.

“Oh, that’s easy.” Valentina grinned. She turned into a nearby driveway, with the appropriately labeled house number painted on the curb to the side of it. “Here we are. 2011, Meritt Drive. I shoulda been a bus driver. I love kids, I carry emergency cereals, and I follow directions like a pro.”

“You’re an angel in disguise,” agreed Mathias, “sent to save me from fruitlessly wandering, taxi-less, down the road in the wee hours of the morning. I couldn’t thank you properly if I tried.”

Valentina looked at her watch. “It’s only twelve-thirty,” she said. “It’s not quite the wee hours of the morning.”

Twelve-thirty, thought Mathias, with a grimace. He wasn’t sure where that extra hour had gone. Valentina looked tired too, despite her cheery attitude, and he wondered if she had a home and a family that she should have gotten back to a long time ago.

“I’ve kept you way too long,” he started, “I’m sorry for all the trouble. You’ve been an incredible help.”

“I guess that’s my cue to go, huh?” Valentina sighed, and then winked at Mathias. “Well, all right, I can take a hint when I’m given one. It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Mathias Grant. Next time, take some caffeine pills or something. If you meet Mrs. Bernard in the library, I can’t say I think she’ll be as friendly and accommodating. She doesn’t like men.”

“Oh?” Mathias clicked open the car door, and slid out on to his feet on the pavement. “Does she like women, then?”
“I didn’t’ mean it like that.” Valentina, “although I’ve never asked her, and I don’t’ think that I will.”

She stretched in the driver’s seat, curling her toes around the brake as she arched her back, and took up too much of the driver’s seat. “I need a bigger car. Maybe a different color car, too.”

“I think it’s fine,” shrugged Mathias. “Clifford the big red van works for me any day.”

“Hey,” said Valentina, retracting from her stretch, and leaning her elbows on her knees as she looked out at Mathias through the open car door, “listen, you don’t have a coffee maker, do you? I mean, I should probably get some caffeine into me before I hit the road again. Safety first, you know. I mean. If that’s okay and everything.”

“Always glad to return a favor,” agreed Mathias. Before he had time to say anything else, Valentina had jumped out of the driver’s seat, and slammed Clifford’s door.

Together, the approached the doorway of the vaguely cream-colored house, recently painted-over, but with the scar from a well-thrown baseball still prominently displayed next to the door frame.

“That’s nasty,” murmured Valentina, gesturing at the door. “Looks like something my little brother coulda done. He’s always breaking windows with soccer balls.”

Mathias raised an eyebrow at her. “Aren’t soccer balls supposed to stay near your feet?”

“You clearly don’t play soccer,” chuckled Valentina.

“No,” agreed Mathis, “no, I don’t. Not for a long time.”

Mathias found the light switch on the inner wall, and was relieved when he turned it on to see that all of his various appliance and household accoutrements were in their proper place. There was no great mess in the hallway, nothing obstructing the passageway to the kitchen. He remembered suddenly that he’d expected to have company tomorrow, and groaned, realizing that he’d be in no shape to receive.

“Everything all right?” Valentina asked, glancing at him. Mathias nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “just remembered something, that’s all. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

Mathias started to brew the coffee, as Valentina took a seat at the kitchen table. “You know,” she was saying, “I’m really glad you let me drive you home. Shows a lot of self-awareness, a lot of maturity, if you will.”

Mathias rolled his eyes, amused. “Thanks,” he said, “always nice to be appreciated.

“Oh, you know what I meant.” Valentina frowned. “Not that I wasn’t expecting you to be mature, just that…well, most people don’t like to be told that they can’t do something.”

“As I recall, you didn’t give me much of an opportunity to contradict you.” Mathias poured two cups of coffee, and brought them over to the table, silently hoping that Valentina wouldn’t notice how awful his coffee was. It was made from cheap coffee beans, from the family-run grocery store next-door, and he’d never been particularly partial to the taste himself. Still, it was inexpensive, and everyone had to choose where they wanted to spend, and where they wanted to save. He’d never really cared about how badly it tasted before.

Valentina took a sip of the coffee, and didn’t seem to object to the taste. She took a few sips, and then made a face. “Hot,” she said. “Sorry. That’s my fault, I should’ve expected that.” Pausing, she waited for her mouth to cool off, and then gave Mathias a quizzical look. “What I meant before, anyway, was that…well, I just really appreciate you knowing how to take care of yourself. Nobody around here thinks that there’s any problem with driving when you’re exhausted. It’s not exactly safe.”

“I would imagine not,” Mathis agreed,. He watched Valentina try her coffee again, this time more carefully. Her flamingo-colored bob almost dipped into the coffee as she bent down to drink it, and she pulled a purple hair band from around her wrist, tying it back against the base of her neck.

“It’s just as dangerous as DUI,” she continued, after a moment. “I mean, really, being extra-tired can be just like being drunk. It throws off all of your senses, ruins your perception and screws up your powers of comprehension.”

“That would make sense,” Mathias agreed. “I really did feel almost drunk just now, and I’ve had nothing but coffee and cereal all night.”

Valentina nodded. “It’s like I said,” she started, and then stopped, substituting another swig of coffee for the end of her sentence. “I guess it’s sort of a personal vendetta,” she finished, putting down the mug. “I was in a car accident last year. My boyfriend fell asleep at the wheel. So you know, I guess I’m all activist now, like everybody is after they think they’ve suffered a tragedy.” She shrugged, and then made a derisive gesture. “I guess everybody has to be a crusader for something or other.”

“Was everyone okay?” Mathias asked. “What happened to your boyfriend?”

“I dumped him.” Valentina grinned. “Other than that, he’s fine.”
“That’s fair,” murmured Mathias. “Leaving someone who put you in a life threatening position seems reasonable enough.”

“Oh,” said Valentina. “That’s not why I left him.” She looked down at her now empty coffee mug, and then asked abruptly, “Do you live alone?”

Mathias shook his head. “With my sister,” he said. “She’s out of town…with friends, I think. She’s younger than me, by a little. I think they might be in New York.”

Valentina narrowed her eyebrows. “You don’t know where she is? That doesn’t sound like something a loving brother would say.”

Mathias coughed uncomfortably. “She can take care of yourself,” he said. “She’s a full-grown woman in her late thirties, I don’t’ think she needs my special attention.” Conscious of Valentina’s reproving look, he tried to turn the conversation back to the previous topic. “I think it’s a very valid goal, trying to educate people about the dangers of automobile accidents.”

Valentina smiled absently, looking down at the table. “It’s not the accident that’s dangerous,” she said, almost dreamily, as if she wasn’t paying attention. “It’s what happens to you after the accident. Some people never recover from that kind of injury.”

“What kind of injury?” asked Mathias.

Valentina looked up at him suddenly, almost sharply, and Mathias felt a flush of color rush to his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to sound like a busy-body. It was only curiosity. You’re a nice girl; it’s a terrible thing to hear that something painful’s happened to a nice girl like you.”

“It’s all right.” Valentina bit her lip. “I’m not ashamed of it. I had a brain injury, you see. Like one of the soldiers coming back from the war, a TBI. Traumatic Brain Injury. I like TBI better, it sounds so much more clinical, so much less, well…dramatic.”

Surprised, Mathias coughed, unsure of how to respond to that kind of a statement. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That sounds-!”

“Awful,” finished Valentina. “Can’t imagine wishing that on anybody else. That’s why I’m so adamant about it. I guess some people think I’m a little weird about cars, but I think it’s really important. Prevention is the key to safety.” Pausing, she looked right at Mathias, smiling. “Do you think so?”

“I do,” agreed Mathias. “I agree, there’s nothing better than preventing a problem before it even occurs.”

“And what’s more,” Valentina continued, “less mental injury takes some of the weight off of our taxpayers, paying for the health care reforms and what not.”

“Mental injury?” Mathias felt sort of as though this conversation had begun to get away from him. He glanced at his watch. It was almost one o’clock now. The time was running away from him, and he knew that if he had any sense, he’d politely ask Valentina to leave. She probably didn’t want to be pouring out these confessions any more than he was sure he wanted to be hearing them.

“Mental injury, brain injury, same thing,” Valentina said. “Could I have another cup of coffee?”

Mathias walked over to start the coffee maker again. As he stood near the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, Valentina continued her story. “We went into a tree, and I didn’t wake up for two weeks. When I woke up, well…I mean, I guess I’m okay now. But nothing was really the same. Sometimes that happens when you have a TBI. Sometimes you can’t really feel the same way after that.”

“I’m sure it’s perfectly normal for someone to have trouble adjusting to life again, after something life-threatening like that,” Mathias insisted. “I don’t’ think it’s anything to be concerned about.”

Valentina snorted. “You’re sweet,” she said. “That’s a sweet thing to say.”

“Well,” murmured Mathias, “it seems to make sense to me that after a near-death experience, someone would feel confused and…well, different. I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s good,” said Valentina. “I’m glad.”

“Glad of what?”

“Glad that you wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t want you to know what it feels like. It’s an awful feeling, waking up at the age of twenty four and not knowing how you relate to the rest of the people in your life. I hope you think I’m crazy, I hope you never have any idea what I’m talking about.” She stood up, and crossed over to him, holding her empty coffee mug. “Sorry,” she said, “do you want me to wash it in the sink first, or just stick in the dishwasher?”

“Just leave it in the sink,” replied Mathias. “I’ll take care of it.” He watched her as she deposited her mug in the kitchen sink. “Thanks for asking.” He waited for a moment, then added, “I don’t suppose it matters what I think, I’ve only known you for a few hours, and you know a lot more about how your life works and how you tick than I do. Be that as it me, you seem fine to me. Actually, you seem better than fine, you seem healthy, you seem like a breath of fresh air. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. If you’re feeling abnormal, I guess I’m telling you that I like it. I wish I had something more profound to say than that.”

Valentina turned around and looked at him, giving him a smile that looked to Mathias like a cross between genuine surprise, and cynical amusement. She walked back over to him, and squeezed his shoulder, shrugging as she did so. “You really are sweet,” she said. “Really a doll.”

Mathias shuddered as the warmth drifted from the weight of her hand down into the deepest recesses of his shoulder, and started to spread through his body, to other parts of him that he wasn’t sure he wanted to consider. He looked up at her, took in her cynical smile, and wanted to make it genuine, wanted to make her realize how much she really did fit in, how much she really was in the right place, despite how she felt. “Don’t dismiss me like that,” he said, and his voice came out deeper than he’d expected. “I mean it.”

“Yeah,” said Valentina, the smile wiped from her face as she looked up at him. “Yeah, somehow, I think you do.”

“You should,” murmured Mathias, “you don’t’ have any reason not to.” He slipped his arm, dangling at his side, around her waist, and pulled her abruptly to him, her fluffy bob getting in the way as he tried to find her lips with his. She reached up and pushed it back, and he kissed her, closing his eyes as their foreheads rested together for a moment.

“Maybe you know how I tick better than I do, after all,” Valentina said, through what Mathias hoped was a real smile, this time.

“Not nearly as well as I’d like to,” he whispered, and almost immediately realized how aggressive he was being. He shook his head against her warm shoulder, and started to pull away, but she pulled him back, burying her lips in his collarbone, her eyelashes brushing against the skin of his neck. “But I’m fine with you just the way you are.”

“Isn’t that what every girl wants to hear,” giggled Valentina.

Mathias shrugged. “I don’t want to say what every girl wants to hear. I want you to want to hear what I have to say.”

Valentina didn’t say anything. She was busy running her tongue under the collar of Mathias’ shirt. He let out a harsh breath, drawing her close to him, and then broke away from her with some force, so that she looked up at him, surprised. Before she had a chance to speak, Mathias had her by the arm, and was pressing her hand as he drew her over towards the living room, connected to the kitchen by a little hallway.

He slid back on to the couch, and Valentina crawled on top of him, encircling his neck with her arms and tightening her legs around his waist as she continued to kiss him.

“How old are you?” Mathias asked suddenly, trying to hold himself back.

Valentina rolled her eyes. “This,” she whispered, “is not at all the appropriate time to be asking that question. But I told you, I’m twenty four.”

“Oh,” Mathias said. “That’s okay.”

“Yes,” chuckled Valentina, “that’s perfectly okay.”

Mathias drew her against him as hard as he could, and kissed her urgently, even as she began to tighten her hold on his neck, and then to bury the pads of her fingers in his shoulders. He kissed and bit at her neck, then nibbled on her earlobes, enjoying the feel of her skin between his lips, then his teeth. He felt her fingers working hastily at the buttons of his shirt, and he tried to untangle his arms from around her waist so that he could assist her with the job.

“Hold me,” she said, “I’ve got this covered.”

Valentina finally freed him from his shirt, and pulled her own over her head with a couple of struggling motions. The skin of her stomach brushed his, and Mathias groaned unexpectedly at the very contact. He wasn’t deprived, and he hadn’t been a long time without the touch of a woman, but the exhilaration and the almost innocent joy of Valentina’s form connecting with his was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever entertained before. He couldn’t’ decide if it was her youth, the unhealthy hour of the night, or the beauty of knowing that he’d made her forget her concerns for the moment, but something had clicked in a way that it hadn’t, perhaps ever before.

He was not terribly skilled at undoing bras, but Valentina had one on that could only be lifted over the top of a woman’s head. She did the job for him, abandoning it in the same way that she’d freed himself from her shirt, and started to kiss down his chest, lightly and softly, teasingly, making Mathias into her lips with longing. After what seemed to him like incredibly sensational hours, she drew down to the zipper of his trousers, and undid the zipper, drawing it down as far as it would go, and sliding the pants off his legs so that they fell on top of the pile of the rest of their clothes, below the footrest of the couch.

“I didn’t bring you back here to seduce you,” Mathias was telling her, trying to look apologetic.

Valentina shrugged. “Tough,” she said, “you’re going to have to do it anyway.”

“I’ll survive,” groaned Mathias, as she divested him of his boxers. Suddenly, he wondered what color boxers he was wearing, and he wished in a vain instant that he’d taken more care with his dress this morning. Valentina didn’t seem to have any qualms with what he’d been wearing, and was in fact as eager to get it off of him as he was.

He felt himself pressing against her, every curve and fold of her body making an impression on his as he shut his eyed and willed himself not to be aggressive or overly forceful with her. He knew that it would be best to take it at her pace, to let her call the shots, so that she wouldn’t feel threatened, but he longed to be inside her with an incredible fervor, and was having an incredibly hard time convincing himself against it.

“It’s okay,” Valentina said, her lips moving against his chest as she kissed him. “It’s all right.”

“Are you sure?” Mathias stared up at her as she poised herself over him, trying to meet her gaze.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Releasing himself from his bonds of self control, Mathias grasped Valentina by the shoulders and flipped her over on to her back. He pulled off her underwear with one hand; unsure as to where they fell. He thought he heard her say something, but wasn’t able to pick out exact words, as he lowered himself fully on top of her, his lips caressing hers as he entered her in one fluid movement. He heard her sharp intake of breath, and hoped that it was more pleasure than pain. She reached around, pressing her hands flat against his back, his waist, his buttocks, murmuring something gentle but unintelligible into his shoulder as he thrust in and out of her. He bit his lip, controlling his rasps of pleasure as he was overcome with the experience, both of holding himself inside of her, and of being desperately close to her in other ways. As he stretched against her in the moment of climax, he kissed her on the forehead, resting his lips against her cheek as he let out a moan of release and satisfaction.

They lay there together for several moments, before, released from his moment of passion, Mathias began to worry about the cramped couch that he’d so unceremoniously placed them on. “Here,” he murmured, “why don’t I get you some extra pillows or something? This isn’t terribly comfortable, I’m sorry it’s such a small couch.”

“Aw, don’t’ get up,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

It was several appropriately long moments before either of them spoke again. The silence was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, it was simply silence. Mathias found himself trying not to think about when she would have to leave, and he wondered what she was thinking about. He was about to ask her, when he realized that it must be after one-thirty by now. He would have to let her go, he’d kept her too long already.

“It’s late,” he said, trying to keep the strains of reluctance out of his voice.

“Yeah,” said Valentina. She reached down and dug her underwear out of the pile of clothes beneath their feet, and stood up to struggle into it. Mathias felt her weight leave him, and he felt almost bereft, realizing that he’d wanted to keep there against him for a lot longer than he’d been able. She sipped her pants on, and Mathias forced himself to stand up and to start getting dressed.

“I want you to come back, you know,” he was saying he watched her pull he shirt back over her head. “I mean, I didn’t just…I’d like t see you again. Tomorrow, maybe. Or…how about Saturday?”

Valentina chuckled. “So one go wasn’t good enough, huh?”

Hurt despite himself at her flippancy, Mathias finished buttoning his shirt, avoiding her gaze. “No, not really.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Valentina tried again, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just…I’m a sarcastic person. You’re a really nice guy.”

“Yeah,” replied Mathias, the words dry in his mouth. “You’re a really nice girl, too. I guess I had a really nice time. It was…really nice.”

‘Aw, jeez, Mathias.” Valentina gave him a hard look biting her lip. “You just have to turn this into something about us, don’t you.”

“I was hoping this could be about us,” Mathias admitted. “I sort of thought that was what just happened. That we’d made an us out of it. Maybe you didn’t see it that way.”

“I really like you, Mathias.” Valentina closed her eyes, apparently not wanting to look at him. “I just don’t think you’re gonna really like me.”

Mathis sighed. “I already really like you,” he said. “I know that I’m older than you, that I’m a guy who almost fell asleep on his way out of a librarian at some ungodly hour of the morning, that there’s no way that I’m the type of guy that girls talk about picking up at bars, or clubs, or other sorts of venues. But I really like you, and yeah, I had a really “nice” time.” He took her hand off of his shoulder, enclosed it in his own, then lifted it to his lips and kissed it impulsively. “And if your only qualm about all of this is that you don’t think I’m gonna like you, then you’re wrong. If it’s something else, be honest. I’m a big boy. I can handle it. We all make mistakes.”

“No, it’s…” she trailed off, searching for words in the back of her head, and staring off into the distance past Mathias as she tried to think of what to say. “Look,” she started again. “I told you about that car accident. I told you that I had a head injury. Didn’t you understand me? I got hurt. Badly hurt. I’m not okay anymore.”

Mathias stared at her, confused, waiting for her to elaborate. Valentina watched him for a second, and then continued, shaking her head. “It’s depression, Mathias. I’m a depressive. It’s a mental sickness. I’m not always a nice girl. Sometimes I’m unbearable. Sometimes I’m so sad, nobody can even talk to me. Sometimes I’m so despondent, I won’t even get out of bed, and I have to be forcibly woken up and dressed so that I can get on with my day. I’m not the kind of girlfriend that somebody like you wants to get involved with, not now, not when you’ve got your own life to live.”

Mathias hadn’t thought about that. It had never crossed his mind, in the course of all this, to tie what she’d been trying to tell him about TBIs, and car accidents in with the way he’d realized he felt about her. All of the information was coming in a little bit too fast. First he’d met her, the pink haired, kind-hearted librarian on the wet, workday afternoon. Then he’d wanted her. Then he’d needed her for more than just that hour. Then she’d told him that maybe she wasn’t in a place where she felt comfortable being needed. But maybe everyone was like that, in a way. Maybe everyone was in a lonely, confused sort of place, in one way or another, where they were somehow emotionally detached. Mathias himself had felt like that before. Valentina had just said herself that she needed someone to help her want to get up in the morning.

“It seems to me,” he said thoughtfully, “that you could benefit from someone to make you want to live a little bit.”

“I don’t know if anyone can do that,” Valentina murmured.

“Well I guess you wouldn’t,” Mathias agreed. “So we’re going to find out. If you don’t’ have a better reason to put me off, then I want to see you on Saturday.”

Valentina stood, turned away from him for a second, and then pressed him gently back on to the couch. She seated herself beside him, and laid her head on his chest, taking his hand and placing it on her head, so that he ran his fingers through her hair.

They stayed like that until long after what Mathias knew was an unreasonable hour.