Monkey Business

russ ignores his conscience

Monday, December 15, 1:00 p.m.

One eye is open. One eye is closed. Don’t think I can study and nap at the same time. Too bad these notes don’t come on tape. Then I could let them suggestively enter my consciousness.

Ten-minute nap. I deserve it. I wrote the Economics exam at the ungodly hour of nine this morning. I deserve a ten-minute nap.

I poke Kimmy in the shoulder. She’s sitting in the cubicle next to mine at the library. “Wake me in ten minutes,” I say.

She glances at her watch. “Okay. Ten minutes.”

Mmm. Sharon. Mmm. Kimmy. In my dream they’re both giving me an excellent rubdown.

“Wake up,” Kimmy says, patting my shoulder.

“Ten more minutes.”

“Russ, I let you sleep for an hour.”

An hour? I open my eyes and lean back. “I think I need a coffee.”

“You’ve already had three today.”

Thanks, Mom.

Over the course of the next several hours and countless cups of coffee I attempt to stick to my study schedule.

“My back is killing me,” Kimmy whines at seven.

Jamie pops up and starts massaging her shoulders. He must be doing it to piss me off. He knows I can’t really touch her in public. Ever since Jamie saw Kimmy and me together, he’s been giving me attitude. I’d like to punch him in the face, but I can’t have him spilling split lips to the entire school, can I? Why is he touching her, anyway? He doesn’t still think he has a chance with her, does he?

His fingers continue to dig into her shoulders. Maybe he does think he’s still in the running. Maybe Kimmy’s sleeping with him, too.

Nah.

“Time for a dinner break,” I say, attempting to clear my head. I have enough issues to worry about, most prominently my own dual-dating, without having to worry about Kimmy’s extracurricular activities.

We go to the caf for some food and then back to the library. At eleven Nick starts making toking motions. I know smoking a joint the night before an exam isn’t a brilliant plan, but after all that coffee, I don’t think I’ll fall asleep if I don’t come down a bit. Also dulls the jagged blade of the I’m-an-asshole guilt that now pierces into my stomach lining on a daily basis.

I follow him back to his room, where we smoke a short, quick one. Then I go back to my room to call Sharon.

She decides that tonight is a good time to ask me, “Do you ever think about getting married?”

I’m lying on my bed, still dressed. I wonder if she means to her, or in general, but I don’t want to talk too much in case she realizes I’m stoned. She’d kill me for smoking during exams.

“Do you?” I ask.

Often the best way to avoid a question is to deflect the question with another question. I should have tried that on today’s exam. As identified by the Federal Reserve Bank, what are the three different components of the overall money supply? I could have gone with, What do you think the three components are, eh? Right.

Sharon laughs. “I asked you first.”

Guess it doesn’t work on her, either. “I’ll get married when I’m settled,” I say.

“When you’re settled, or we’re settled?”

Another good question, and another I don’t answer. I can’t exactly say, At the moment I’m involved with someone else, and I can’t decide who I prefer. Maybe I should use a food metaphor. I can say, I’m sitting at a restaurant and there are two menu choices, but both are my favorites. Which do I choose? Chicken parmesan or fettuccine alfredo? Just what all women dream about. Being compared to food. Objectified and put on a plate. Pass the pepper, please! “When we’re settled,” I say. I am too chicken-shit to start. Chicken parmesan, please.

Something else I haven’t told Sharon is that I’ve applied for summer jobs in New York. She’s under the impression that I’ll be going back to the IT consulting firm I worked for before. The firm, too, is under this impression. But since everyone else applied to jobs through school, I figured I should, too. So now it comes down to this: life in Toronto with Sharon or life in New York with Kimmy?

Ten minutes later, I say my love you, toos and good-nights and be goods, then wash up and walk over to Kimmy’s room.

She stands behind the door when she opens it so no one can see she’s naked. Not that anyone’s up. I love that she opens the door naked. I wonder how long she lay there in bed, naked, waiting for me. Or does she strip off her clothes when she hears the knock on her door?

I drop my jeans and sweatshirt and briefs onto her floor, and she puts her mouth on me before I can even get into bed.

Then I push her down and lie on top of her. We rub against each other for a bit, and I can feel her getting wet beneath me. She tries to slide me into her, but I reach out to get a condom. She pulls me closer.

I know she wants to do it without a condom. She keeps telling me that she’s on the pill. But I can’t. Even though I know it would be a million times better. Cheating on my girlfriend without a condom reaches a whole other level of repulsiveness.

I really know how to draw the line, eh? The only problem is, the line keeps fading, inch by inch.

I slip on the condom and then push myself inside her. She wraps her legs around my back. I try to make her come with my fingers, the way Sharon likes to, but she stops me.

“Just fuck me,” she says, and I do as requested. After I come, I throw the condom into the garbage beside her bed.

“Did you set the alarm?” I ask.

“For eight?” she asks with a half smile. “Don’t you want to sleep in before the exam?”

“Don’t give me a hard time. Six-ten, as usual.” I don’t know where I got the six-ten. Maybe it’s because I don’t expect anyone to be out in the hall at six-ten. Six-thirty maybe, but six-ten? Doubtful.

“Fine. Whatever.” She reaches across me, her breasts hanging deliciously over my mouth. “Alarm set. Six-ten.” She turns her back to me.

“’Night.” I wrap my arms around her so she’s not mad. She curves into me, and I kiss her neck good-night.

When the alarm rings at six-ten, I get dressed quickly, then open the door gently. As I expected, the hallway is quiet and empty. The lights are on-they’re always on-and the windows over the stairs are mirrors because it’s still dark outside, so instead of seeing outside, I see myself.

I quickly look away. I don’t think I like what I see.