Before reading Part V of "The Resurrection of Crazy Jane," if you haven't yet, read it from Part 1 first. These installments do not stand on their own and don't make any attempt to.
Please note that any viewpoints expressed by the characters in this story do not necessarily reflect my own viewpoints. I am simply attempting to stay true to the characters.
*****
I made eye contact with Zoey.
It was remarkable that I'd only known this girl for about two weeks, and we were still able to communicate with just eye contact. It was the strangest damn thing.
But the eye contact we had at this moment was perhaps the most important nonverbal conversation we've had through our short friendship - or tease-ship or whatever the hell you would call this.
Beth had finally let her guard down for a moment. She sat her shaken, tormented body on the couch cushion next to me, giving herself to my embrace, crying on my shoulder.
She was choking and wetting me with snot and tears. She was just overcome by her confession that she has had recurring dreams that I was raping her.
In thinking about it, of course, I felt undeniable guilt. The way I plowed into Beth the previous night with unmitigated power, helped along by Zoey's innocent striptease just feet away from Beth's head, probably was a bit too dominant for Beth's taste.
The fact that I just plunged in, no condom at all, and blew what felt like gallons of spunk into her without abandon, probably didn't help matters, either.
Sex with Beth had to be just one step past virginal. It had to be a Puritanical courtship.
And that's all it could ever be.
And of course, when I was lost in this train of thought, my girlfriend falling to pieces before my very eyes, was the moment that Zoey decides to wake up and investigate, looking directly into my eyes.
She peeked her head around the corner into the living room just as Beth leaned her sobbing head into me.
In the TV-lit darkness of the living room, Zoey's blue eyes sparkled a silvery-gray as they looked straight at me.
Her look of true concern suggested that the previous night and all of the transgressions I committed with her had been forgotten.
Instead of her default tempestuous glare, dripping with sex and bad intentions, Zoey made eye contact with me in an almost empathetic way. At least that was the way I
hoped
she was looking at me.
Either way, it was a look I'd rarely seen from the girl.
Zoey just looked scared and apprehensive, like a little girl that awoke to her parents fighting.
She's lost it
, I attempted to tell Zoey with my eyes.
I'm trying to do all I can to make it better
.
As I tried to communicate this with my eyes, Zoey somehow received it. Her expression softened even more.
Zoey's expression, God help me, somehow was the worst thing I could have seen at that moment.
I'm not proud of it, but for the first time, I was thinking about Beth like she was broken.
Irreparably.
The concept that was swimming in my mind, that a simple sexual relationship was breaking her brain even further, had me doubting what I was doing with her.
Can I even deal with this?
Can I deal with a woman who may never want to have sex with me
?
I felt selfish for thinking it. I should be able to put a sexual relationship on the back burner. But if this is a long term deal, I can't
not
have sex with my girlfriend.
And Zoey's look suggested, at least for a second, that she was more than just a wanton sex kitten.
There was a person inside there
.
And, dang it, I might
like
that person. For the first time, I truly compared Zoey and Beth to each other, considering both as romantic options I had to choose between.
And Zoey might be winning
.
And it got even worse.
Usually, a look from Zoey stirred a reaction in my cock, pushing an on/off button that made my treacherous weiner expand at her whim.
Now, the whole scene unfolding in the living room, just the entire gravity of this moment, that sudden pressure of asking myself to
make a choice
, pulled on my emotions.
It created a lump in my throat, threatening to push tears out. I wasn't sure
what in the hell
that was about. It was probably everything altogether, to be honest.
There was Beth's helplessness, and perhaps that this was the first suggestion that my relationship with her was starting to fade.
And then there was the suggestion that
whatever this was
that I was having with Zoey was, in fact,
something
.
I began to sniffle and cry myself, which caused Beth to reflexively hold me tighter. I think she found my tears quite comforting, in a strange way.
If she only knew
.
But we, as humans, sense the presence of others. We know when people are staring at us.
As Beth jumped and look backward, she felt that. She sensed Zoey's presence and made a whimpered gasp at seeing her.
Immediately, Beth began to collect herself and suck back her tears, which were now slowing down to a manageable cry, just to steady herself for Zoey's benefit.
"I'm ... sorry," Beth stifled out between cries. "I didn't ... mean to ... wake you." Beth wiped at the tears flowing on her face, which had made tear-stained streaks down her cheeks. There was no hiding her state of sadness and helplessness.
Zoey looked at Beth with a warm smile. "Sweetie, come here," Zoey said, spreading her arms wide. After a hesitation, Beth left my embrace and went to Zoey, who hugged her tightly as Beth began to cry again. "Let it out..." Zoey warmly said, running her fingers through Beth's hair while making assuring eye contact with me over Beth's shoulder.
I smiled a thankful grin at Zoey, and she did the same to me. It probably felt good to Beth to know that she had support.
And, for the first time, Zoey and I didn't turn a silent conversation into some drawn out flirtation.
*******
I was sitting in the living room watching TV, half trying to wake up while also desperately wanting to sleep. Shortly after they began to hug and cry together, Beth had followed Zoey into Zoey's bedroom. They'd been in there for a while.
I heard their voices and their tears. And maybe even a little laughter. All of it was muffled behind a closed door on the other side of the apartment.
Whatever Zoey was doing,
it was working
. They were most likely having "the talk", where Beth spilled her guts about her abuse, about her life, about her everything. She was just so much better at this than I was.
And I knew they were talking about me
. That made me into a nervous jumble.
Then my mind wandered more.
