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Bedroom Window Apparently, Sofia didn't know how to use the door. She knew how to please a woman, how to tease, and flirt, and tell a good story. But you'd think a grown woman like that could turn a doorknob, swing the damned thing open, and walk through it. But Sofia preferred to climb out of my bedroom window. I had a one-bedroom disaster zone on the second floor of a shitty apartment building in concrete city — Denton, Texas. The fact that my apartment was shitty and immeasurably filthy didn't bother her. There were no parents to avoid. No rules to follow. And that's the way she liked it. Still, after every visit, she would climb out of my damned window — be it dark or light outside. At first, I tried to explain to my roommate that she was terrified of him, basically, because she wasn't comfortable with having sexual relations with a woman. Besides, there were language-barrier issues. Besides, maybe she was shy. Our theory was that give some time, she'd come around to using the door. Eventually. But weeks passed without change. If the woman wanted to be inconspicuous, there were other ways. It's not like she had a tree in dark shadows to climb down, or a drainpipe, or even a fire escape. Hell, my bedroom window faced a damned walkway that went straight past our door and right under the window. The door was separated from the window by about six feet. The drop from my window to the walkway was about two feet. I begged her to use the door. I tried reason — "It's only more obvious, not less" — and finally just gave up hope that she'd come around. Sofia would smile, give me a kiss goodbye, raise the window, and climb through. After about three weeks, my roommate and his girlfriend began to wait for her on the steps outside. They'd call her name and wave when she left. They thought it was really fucking funny. She would duck her head and jog past them. She was ashamed of me, of us. She had a "boyfriend" come fetch her sometimes, and she'd tell me how he had touched her breasts. Once, while we were kissing, she stopped and asked if I could taste him in my mouth. She wanted me to be jealous. She wanted me to be angry. Maybe, she wanted me to leave her. If I did, she wouldn't have to climb out the window anymore. And I wouldn't have to listen to my friends' jokes about it. I didn't care much for this Jose guy she always talked about. In fact, I'd have preferred it if she kept her damned mouth shut — always playing stupid games like that. If she wanted a jealous lover, she should have found someone else because I refused to play along. And eventually, I left her because I was tired of dealing with the outraged, "You don't care about me," bullshit that always followed my lack of reaction. It had nothing to do with Jose. It had everything to do with her leaving through my bedroom window. After we broke up, my roommate and his girlfriend would occasionally spot Sofia behind the counter of the local burger joint where I'd first met her. They'd wave, and she would run into the back and hide. Sometimes, I think about her climbing out of my window. I can't help it if that makes me smile. Apparently, Sofia didn't know how to use the door. Feedback? E-mail me at kimberlylafontaine@yahoo.com. |