Gamers Pt. 06

After a completely frustrating half hour, I threw in the towel.

- "Fuck it." I said. "None of us are into this. Including me. Let's just swim. And drink."

- "I'm listening." said Jazz.

I smiled at her. "I know you are. But it's a losing proposition right now. We can play another day."

Nobody else protested. Gerry went out to the pool, to get a good seat for the second half. Cyn and Max went upstairs to change back into swimming suits. I guess whatever Cyn was wearing wasn't meant for getting wet - though how she knew the difference was a mystery to me. Lucy and Les patted me on the back, and went off to the kitchen to re-load their drinks.

- "I'm sorry." said Jazz. She put her arm around me.

- "Not your fault." I said. "Wrong place, wrong time. There'll be another time."

Jazz kissed me softly on the cheek. "You're very smart." she whispered.

- "Sometimes." I said.

- "Let's go for another swim." she suggested. "Then we can eat, and I'll take you home and you can show me the game."

She helped me put away the pieces, and we went upstairs together. At the top of the stairs, we stopped. There was a loud, rhythmic slapping noise coming from the bedroom to our left. It wasn't too hard to figure out what was making that sound.

Max and Cyn hadn't even closed the door properly. As Jazz and I stepped forward, our heads turned. I saw Cyn, naked except for her deck shoes, bent over as if she was trying to touch her toes. Max was standing behind her, driving into her backside, pummelling her as if his life depended upon it.

Cyn's long hair was flying forward at each thrust, and her eyes were closed. Max was also lost in the moment, and didn't notice us. There was one detail about the scene that struck me: the way Cyn's breasts moved. Their shape was a bit of a giveaway, but the way they shimmied was the clincher. She had had an augmentation.

Jazz had more class than I did. She stepped to the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it shut. We could still hear them, but no longer see them.

Jazz raised her eyebrows at me, as if to ask 'What do you think of that?'

I shrugged my shoulders, as if to say 'They're adults. It's up to them.'

The rest of the evening was a bit awkward. We swam, cooked up some burgers and sausages, and drank a bit more. Later on, Jazz and I drove Gerry home. Les and Lucy wanted to walk, again; this time, it was only about a 20 minute walk to her house. It was no surprise that Max said he would find his own way home later.

Jazz took me to her apartment. I was a little too disappointed, and a little too wasted to want to talk about the game. Wise beyond measure, Jazz simply fucked me, then tucked me in and let me sleep.

******************************************************************************

It was a Friday, in the last week of July. Of course, I would be gaming with the guys, as usual. But Jazz and I had a date for tomorrow night. She was taking me out for dinner, but that was all I knew. She was keeping it mysterious.

I was running an errand for my professor, crossing the quad, when I spotted a familiar face coming towards me.

- "Angie?"

- "Hey Dean!"

- "Wow! You look so different. I mean, you look great." I said. She did, too. Angie was wearing a short green t-shirt and a pair of shorts. It was uncharacteristic for her, since she usually dressed like a librarian, or somebody's spinster aunt.

- "Thanks!" she said. "I've been working out all summer. Just trying to keep up with Trisha. Wait 'till you see her. You won't recognize her."

- "What are you doing here, though?" I asked. "I thought you weren't coming back until the very end of summer."

- "We had to come back early." she answered. "We had to be here to say goodbye."

- "Goodbye? Where are you going?"

That's when Angie just stared at me, with a look of pure horror on her face. Have you ever seen that look? The one where somebody asks you what time the party starts - when they remember that it's a surprise party - and you're not supposed to know about it.

- "Oh ..." she moaned. "I didn't - "

A horrible feeling hit me, like a blow to the chest. I couldn't breathe for a moment. Who was leaving? Who was it, if I was the last to know, and if Angie was unaware that I didn't know? The sick feeling spread to my stomach, and I felt nauseous.

- "I'm sorry." she said. "You didn't ..." She started crying.

- "S' OK." was all I could get out.

- "I have to -"Angie just wanted to get away. I couldn't blame her.

- "Yeah. It's OK."

- "I'll call you." she said "We'll call you."

I nodded. It was all I could manage. Angie turned and left. I sat down one of the stone benches, still in shock.

I'm not quite sure how long I sat there. I couldn't even begin to describe my thoughts; they just weren't coherent enough. Eventually, though, I resolved to go and see Jazz. A phone call, or a text or email were all out of the question. It had to be in person. I got on the bus.

She wasn't home.

I'm not a stalker. I wanted, or needed to know what the hell was going on, but I wasn't going to chase her around town, or burst in on her if she was with her friends. So I went home, to get ready to go to Gerry's, because he was hosting our Friday night game.

As I turned the corner onto my street, there was a lonely figure sitting on the kerb in front of my house. Jazz. She stood up as I approached.

I had no clue what to say. For the first time since I met her, Jazz looked less than spectacular. She had been crying, and her eye makeup had run down one cheek. Her nose was red around the nostrils. Her eyes were red, too.

- "Angie phoned me." she said. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I was going to tell you everything tomorrow night, on our date. I didn't even know that Angie was home -"

- "Jazz." I interrupted. "Who's going away? Who's saying goodbye?"

She blinked. But at least she looked me in the eye. "I am, Dean. It's me."

I just nodded, not trusting myself to say anything.

- "Dean, can we go somewhere, and talk?" she asked. "I want to tell you everything. I know it's Friday, and you're gaming with the guys, but ..."

I laughed, a little harshly. "You think I feel like gaming, right now?"

- "So let's go get something to eat, and we can talk. I've already cancelled with the girls. We can do whatever you want."

- "Alright." I took Jazz inside with me, to ask if I could borrow the car. Mom took one look at Jazz, and immediately switched into Mother mode.

- "Are you alright, Jasmine?" she asked, reaching for the box of tissues. "Dean, what have you done?"

- "He didn't do anything." said Jazz. "It's me."

- "I'll get changed." I said, and went downstairs. When I came back up, my Mom was holding Jazz in her arms, rocking her gently. Then she saw me.

My mother came over, and hugged me. She whispered in my ear: "I know how much you care for Jazz. Your father and I like her too. I'm sorry, Dean."

What the fuck? I was partly shocked, because my family has never been touchy-feely. I've also never discussed girlfriends with my mother. But I was partly annoyed, too, because my mother now knew what was going on, and I still didn't.

I said as much as we got into the car. "So now my mother knows? Am I going to be the last person to find out?"

- "No. I'm sorry, Dean. I messed up. I'm going to tell you everything."

- "Where?"

- "Somewhere I can get a drink. I need a little liquid courage." she said.

I turned to look at her. "When have you ever been short of courage?"

She looked me right in the eye. "Lots of times, Dean. Including right now."

I called Gerry, to apologize for cancelling at the last minute.

- "What the hell, man?" he said. "Why are you bailing?"

- "Girl trouble." I said.

- "Trouble in paradise?" asked Gerry. His voice was so loud that Jazz heard every word he said. She flinched at that last bit.

- "Something like that." I said. "You know I would never do this without a really good reason."

- "I know." said Gerry. "Hope you can straighten things out. We still on for a workout tomorrow?"

- "Sure." I told him. "See you then."

While I was talking on the phone and driving, my brain was in charge of directions. I headed for a little pub just off campus. They did booming business from September to April, but the place was dead quiet through the summer months, when students went home, or sought out other pastures. The food was OK at best, but I wasn't feeling particularly hungry.

We found a seat in a little corner alcove. Jazz immediately ordered a beer and a shot, which I had never seen her do before. I ordered a beer as well, and then waited.

When our drinks came, Jazz downed the shot, and then took a healthy gulp of her beer. Then she took a deep breath. "Before I explain this, I just want to say how sorry I am. I meant for you to find out from me, direct - not from Angie."

- "Find out what, Jazz?" I asked. I was trying to keep my patience.

She took a deep breath. "I told you that my sister got married and moved to Australia. Well, my Dad has been considering moving his business, and he finally pulled the plug. He also decided that I should finish my program over there. Since he's paying my tuition, he gets to call the shots."

- "Where?" I said. It came out as a croak.

- "Sydney."

I didn't react - at least, not overtly. It was one of the bravest things I've ever done. Inside, my world was crashing down in ruins.

- "How long have you known?" I asked her.

- "It's been a possibility for a long time. Dad started to get serious about it last year. But he changed his mind a few times, so I started to think it wasn't going to happen. But he sounded more positive a few months ago."

- "So, it was a possibility when we first met? And that night after the dance - the British Invasion?"

She nodded. "It was possible. Even probable." she admitted.

- "Is that why you told me that you weren't 'girlfriend material'?"

- "Pretty much. I liked you. I was attracted to you. And I wanted to sleep with you."

- "Even though you knew that you would probably be leaving. When? When are you going?"

- "Mid-August. I delayed until the last possible moment." she said.

- "Two weeks?"

- "Sixteen days." she said.

- "Jesus, Jazz!" I said, loud enough that a few of the other patrons turned to look at me.

- "Dean." she said, softly. "I didn't want you to fall for me. I tried to get you into a non-exclusive relationship -"

- "Share the wealth?"

- "Exactly. I hoped that if you were seeing other girls, you wouldn't get hooked on me."

- "Why didn't you just tell me the truth?" I said.

- "I never lied to you." she insisted.

- "Now you sound like a lawyer. Sins of omission versus sins of commission. Forgive me for saying what I'm thinking, but that's bullshit."

She shook her head. "I wanted to sleep with you. I didn't want you to fall in love with me." she said.

- "Did you not tell me that if I ever asked you a question, that you would tell me the truth?" I asked, putting her on the spot. "So answer me this, Jazz: do you love me?"

She was looking right at me, and she didn't flinch or look away.

- "Yes." she said, softly.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Thank God. There was hope yet.

"It wasn't what I wanted, or expected." she continued. "I thought that we could have a few laughs, have a good time, and then I would share you with another girl, or girls. Share the wealth. Exactly like I said. But ..."

- "But?"

- "But the sex was wonderful. And so were you. I wasn't 100% sure that I was leaving. But I wasn't 100% sure that I wasn't. Maybe I messed up, Dean. Maybe I made a series of really bad decisions. But let me ask you this: what would you have done, in my place? Or from where you're sitting, what should I have done?"

Honestly? I had no idea.

- "How long? How long would this be for?" I asked.

This time she couldn't meet my eye.

- "It would be permanent. Relocation." she said.

- "But you could come back. After you finish college." I suggested.

- "My whole family would be in Australia."

I wanted to say 'But I'd be here!'. That sounded stupid, even to my ears.

- "It'll take you two years to finish your program, right? That's a long time. Lots can happen, in two years." I said.

- "What do you mean?" she asked.

I wasn't sure what I meant. I started to ramble. "Part of me is angry - furious, really - that you didn't tell me. And part of me is desperately unhappy. I don't want to lose you, Jazz. If you do love me, and I love you ... we can-"

Jazz tightened her lips. She looked very unhappy. I thought she might cry again.

- "Dean - long distance doesn't work. Sydney is fifteen hours ahead. It's almost ten thousand miles ..."

- "We could connect online. Skype. Facetime."

- "Dean. It wouldn't work." she insisted. "The best thing would be for you to keep me as a fond memory, and move on. You'll find somebody else. Somebody who will love you like you deserve."

- "What if I don't want somebody else?" I asked.

She smiled at me, sadly. "You will. You have to."

We sat in silence for a while. The waitress came back, to ask if we wanted another drink, and if we needed menus.

- "You'd better eat." I said.

- "You too." she said.

We ordered food, and another round of drinks. I tried to persuade her that long distance relationships can work, but Jazz wasn't buying it. And in my heart, I knew that she was right. Air fare to Australia is very expensive. And how long could I afford to spend there, on a visit? Three weeks, or a month?

- "Just look at this way - I want you to be happy. If we try to carry on a long-distance relationship, we'll both be miserable." she said. "And if you passed up a shot at a relationship because of me, 10,000 miles away ... I would hate that."

- "You think I'll meet someone better than you?" I said.

She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. "Thank you. That's sweet. But we have to be realistic, Dean. You can't live like a monk for years, hoping that I'll come back. Phone sex, or mutual masturbation sessions in front of a computer screen? The first couple of times might be fun. But months of nothing but that? It would be pathetic. And it would be torture. I wouldn't do that to you."

She was right. I understood that, in my heart as well as in my mind. She was trying to release me, to get on with my life. And, though she didn't say it, I guess she was asking me to let her go. too.

I didn't want to think about her with another guy. That way lay madness.

- "I would want to stay in contact." she said. "I'll always want to know what you're doing, what game you're playing, or inventing. If you stay in touch with the girls, I'll be able to find out what you're up to. But I'd much rather hear about it from you."

At that moment, I had a rare flash of insight. Jazz was trying to make this as easy on me as possible. She didn't want me to be hurt. OK, maybe that was impossible. But she was thinking of me. And who was thinking of her?

I could make this easier for her. She knew that I didn't want her to go. And she certainly knew how devastated I was now - and would be when she left. But she would be feeling the same. She had admitted that she loved me. Jazz was going to suffer just like I was. Hell, she was probably suffering right now. She was just putting up a brave front. For me.

How could I do less? There would be plenty of time to mope, or cry, or punch walls later. For now, I could pretend to be strong and brave, for her.

- "I'll try." I promised. "I'll want to know everything you're doing, too. Well, maybe not everything ... I don't think I want to hear about it if you start seeing someone else."

- "Are you jealous? A little bit possessive?" she said, with a hint of a smile.

- "More than a little, I think. But I'll try to get over it. So - tell me about Sydney."

It took a little more encouragement, but I got her talking about Australia, and the school she would be attending. Then I asked about her sister, and her brother-in-law, and all that. We talked for a while, both of us pretending that everything was going to be fine, until she asked me to take her home.

We managed to pretend pretty well, until we were in her bed, naked, with me sheathed inside her. She clung to me, tightly, and by the shaking of her body I knew that she was crying.