He did not want a party. They offered him one, but Bill was never the type to be the center of attention. To this point in his life he had never celebrated his birthday, at least not since his mother had died, and he shied away from any kind of parties altogether. He and Mary and Alfreda had spent most of their time at Mr. Jim’s party doing the work, going up and down the stairs carrying things to be put on the buffet.
The last time with Arlene was bittersweet. It was clear that Arlene loved him, and while he cared for her, even deeply, she did not in any way play into any thoughts other than as a friend with benefits.
There was something nice about having a friend with benefits. Having a friend with benefits meant that you could say anything you wanted at any time you wanted about anything you wanted. So he and Arlene had become adept at speaking their desires, saying what they wanted, fulfilling each other’s whims.
Mostly they talked, mostly they fooled around as friends would, not sexually, just goofing around, making jokes and having fun. They talked about Arlene’s mother, who was really doing quite well now. They talked about Arlene’s future, what she wanted, where she wanted to go and what she wanted to be. But they also expressed physical desires so that when Arlene was feeling frisky and wanted him to do something, she would ask it and he would do it, no matter what it was.
Their last time was in her apartment. She whispered things in his ear that she wanted him to do to her, things she had never done before and she’d been too timid to ask of anyone else. Bill was happy to oblige, first as a friend, second as a young guy with his own desires. When she asked him what he wanted of her, he was hesitant until she told him that he could tell her anything, anything, and she would do it happily.
For what it was worth, it was one of the more pleasurable times Bill had ever spent. Arlene said so for herself too, and in the morning, since he was able to stay all night, she told him in no uncertain terms that she would miss him.
Saying goodbye to Mary, their last time, was a night of passion in the Upper Room. Robert had told Bill he was crazy for doing it, but that didn’t stop him from saying no or making sure that the Upper Room was available.
That night, in one of their last sexual acts, Mary would offer him something she swore she would never offer anyone else ever again.
And so it went. They sat and smoked weed. They talked. They hugged and kissed and told each other that they loved each other. She cursed him, then kissed him, then cursed him some more.
“My lovely white boy,” she said.
“My dark-chocolate fudge,” he said.
“I did my nails in purple for you,” she said. “I know how much you love me in purple.”
“I love you anyway you come,” Bill said. “It’s something about you. Don’t ask me what. And it ain’t your color.”
“My color,” Mary said. “Most white boys just want to get with us because of our color.”
“It’s you,” Bill said. “I can see. I can see your color. But it don’t mean shit. It’s just part of who you are. It ain’t why I got with you and has nothing to do with what we are. You’ll never know how much I regret not having met you before I met my wife, not having come here unattached.”
“So you really love me?”
“You’ll never know.”
“That a yes?”
“That’s a big-time yes. No two ways about it Mary P.”
