I wake in moonlight,accompanied by the distinct smell of sex.Ohthat’s right.Jarod and I did thewild thing.Twice.Onceon the front porch, after he kissed me in front of my car as I held a gunon him (it’s still in the garden somewhere), and once on the staircaseafter we burnt the food and he begged, so beautifully, to be allowed tostay.I am suddenly so thankful Istayed on the pill.

The really sadthing about this whole night is that nothing has changed.Sure,I understand that things will always be different between us, but in thebig wide Centre-run world, nothing has changed.Callme Captain Ahab, for Jarod is my Moby Dick.Ilean over and kiss his stubbly cheek.Jarodstirs and mumbles in his sleep.Thar’she blows.

In the darkness,Jarod is even more beautiful than usual, shadows deepen his chiselled features.Heis a perfect angel of the night, a beautiful, lost creature that was nevermeant to have fallen from Heaven.Ikiss him again, slower, on the lips, and he moans slightly, his hand slidingacross the sheets until he encounters my body.Hepulls me close once more, frowning slightly, as if to lament upon my absence.Ismile and chuckle and stroke his skin, and he settles as I creep from thebed.

In the bathroomI close the door and carefully examine my body.Afew finger shaped bruises on the backs of my thighs, a small love biteon my breast, but otherwise I am unchanged.Iexpected to be different somehow, changed beyond recognition.Ihad thought that after sleeping with Jarod the whole world would stop andhold its breath.But nothing is different.Thatmakes me sad.

Jarod pullsthe door open, blinking sleepily in the harsh light.

"Miss Parker?What’swrong?" he mumbles.I am remindedof a small child.I smile and strokehis hair, he puts his arms around my waist and rests his face in the curveof my neck.Such familiar gestures,as if we have been lovers for years.

"Nothing is wrong, Jarod.Everythingis alright, Jarod." I whisper soothingly.Perhaps,withouteven noticing it, I have taken on the role of the mother figure with Jarod.Idon’t even want to know what Freud has to say about that.

"You wanna shower?" he suggests, and I nod, comfortableknowing his idea is completely non-sexual.Somany other men could make that question sound sleazy.

Jarod leansinto the glassed off cubicle and turns on the hot water, still half asleepas he adjusts the temperature.Heleads me under the water and tucks me into his embrace, stroking the streamsof water through my hair.I’ve neverrealised before quite how muscular he is, pressed against the wall of hischest.He is so beautiful

"You’re crying." He whispers, fully alert now, andI nod dumbly, unable to do anything but gaze up into his face.Waterstreaks down upon us both, soaking us and making my hair hang around myface in limp tangles.I am sure mysmudge-proof and water-proof mascara is running, if not gone altogether.AndJarod, gentle Jarod, kisses my lips and holds me tighter.

"I have done things, so many things, that I’m notproud of...I say, and Jarod tries to interrupt, but I shake my head.Helets me finish."I have followedother people lies blindly, because I was too afraid of what the truth wouldmean.I refused to accept that whatI was doing could be wrong...and I let stupid pride get between us."

I remember thethings Jarod yelled at me, in my own drive-way, this afternoon.Hehad called me selfish, had called me stubborn, but what hurt most of allhe had called me cold.He had remindedme of when he was twenty-five and I was twenty-four, how he had broughtme into the sim lab and showed me, with such pride, the delicate littlebonsai he had made me, with Sydney’s help.Atiny little tree with pink blossoms hanging so fat and heavy, and nestledamongst the branches, where only I would look, he had hidden me a tinyscrap of red silk, with ‘Jarod’s Heart’ sewn on so neatly.Hewas giving me his heart, he told me, because he loved me.Wehad kissed, so tenderly .

When Daddy caughtus I cried, begged and pleaded, but I wasn’t allowed to see him again.Daddyshowed me a DSA, of Jarod smashing all the furniture in the sim lab, splinteringall the wood and hurling it at the cameras.Ofthe tiny, precious bonsai, unearthed and torn to shreds by Jarod’s bighands.I had cried.Ihad wept for the loss of my best friend and the loss of his love.Ihadn’t gone to see him again, even when I was in Corporate and I knew Daddycouldn’t have stopped me.I was bitter,at myself, and him, and angry, so angry that he had destroyed the bestpresent I had ever received.

Jarod had calledme cold, this afternoon.He knewall along that I was capable of going to see him, had I really wanted it.Hehad called me cold and gone to walk away, and when I had moved to hit himhe kissed me instead.Caught a holdof my hands and brought me to him, pressing his lips to mine.Hehad held me tight and we had stumbled towards the house and not made it,having sex on my front porch.

I look up atJarod now, so kind and understanding as he holds me in my shower, and Iweep.

"I’m so sorry." I tell him, but it’s not enough, itwill never be enough.Salvation issomething I will never know, not even in his arms.

Jarod is in love with meagain, just as much as I am in love with him again.Andthat makes me so terribly, terribly sad.

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And I see a light

We lie in bed together,wet hair and all, and Jarod puts his arms around me and loosens his gripas he falls into sleep.I am bitter.Iam bitter because of everything that has happened to us, I am bitter becauseI wasn’t given the chance to be Jarod’s first lover, I am bitter becausehe hurts inside and because I don’t know how to fix it.Iam bitter because my mother is dead.Iam bitter because Jarod is strange and he can’t help it.Iam bitter because we are a product of our environment.Iam bitter because I love Jarod.Idon’t want to love Jarod.

And I am tired.Exhaustionof the mental kind.I am unsure ofhow much longer I can put up with the shit that happens to me.Howmuch longer I can put up with my own life.Iam tempted to curl up into a little ball and let the world pass me by.Iam tempted to let the darkness that presses on the edges of my mind in.Tofinally lose it and get locked up in some mental institution, saying nothingand hearing less.I am so tired thatall this seems like a welcome release.

Jarod hums in his sleepand twists a little violently, and I soothe him with my hand on his brow.Hemakes soft snuffling noises, murmurs my name, and floats blissfully backinto oblivion.I am touched.Hetrusts me enough to sleep peacefully in my presence, even under my somewhatintense scrutiny of his naked form.Longand muscular and beautiful, even for his imperfections.Afew criss-crossed scars here and there which I don’t want to think about,one or two dark freckles scattered randomly.

I sigh, and trace my initialson his skin with a fingernail.There,he’s all mine now.I laugh a littleat the thought, almost cry, too.Iremember his phone call the night before.Hehad been particularly flirty, slinging innuendo after innuendo at me.Andmost I had ignored, coming back with some comment on him giving himselfup, coming home where he belongs, being a psychopath, the usual.Butstill he had kept coming with the remarks.

And then hehad made that stupid comment about his heart.

"Sixteen years ago you were only too happy to getclose to me Parker."

"Then I’m so glad I grew out of that ‘phase.’Isuppose all girls go through that, having bizarre obsessions with scienceexperiments.My friend had a crushon Batman."

"Sixteen years ago I gave you my heart.Doyou remember that?" he had asked.Ihadn’t known what to say, clutching the phone to my ear in panic.Fouryears and he had never said a word about the whole incident.

"Your silence is better than any words Miss Parker.Youdo remember." He had stated.I hadbeen about to hyperventilate.

"Do you still have it?" he asked, and I’d stared atmy dresser, the bottom drawer, knowing that inside a little perfumed envelopelay a tiny scrap of red silk in the shape of a heart with the words ‘Jarod’sHeart’ sewn on it neatly.

"No." I’d told him.He’dchuckled.

"Liar."

He’d hung upthen, but had called me later that night, his usual two am.

"You know Miss Parker, I’ve been thinking."

"Don’t hurt yourself!" I’d snarled automatically,and he’d laughed, a genuine laugh.

"I was thinking about that time, sixteen years ago.Iremember how you used to parade around in those tight little micro mini’s,the best thing to come out of the eighties, I’ve been told, all long legsand breasts.I wanted you so badlythen, used to imagine what it would be like to hold you, to kiss you...tobe inside of you."He’d said thatand I’d almost stopped breathing.

"You didn’t know that, did you?Iused to watch you, watched the way you moved and wonder if you moved likethat for me.Swinging your hips andarching your back... your every males fantasy, Miss Parker, but always, alwaysmine.Do you know how much I hatedthose damn cameras?If it hadn’tbeen for them I would have swept you up into my arms the minute you struttedinto that poolroom with that damn bikini all those years ago.HowI kept my hands off you all those years I don’t know." He’d finished ona whisper.

And oh, howthese words had affected me, driving me wild with anger and desire.Mywalls had gone flying back up and I had wanted to hurt him, like he hadme, to make him feel frustrated and miserable like I always did.

"Yeah Jarod?Whata pity then" because you can never have me Jarod.Ifyou *ever* get close enough to touch me it will because I’m slapping somehandcuffs on you to take you back to the Centre.Youdisgust me Jarod, you always have." I’d hung up on him, determined to getsome sleep and not regret my harsh words.

Standing outthe front of my house the next day, I’d realised he’d probably been drivingall night.He’d been lounging againsthis car when I pulled up, tired from a long day of a fruitless search.I’dleaped from the car in fury and delight, an interesting mixture, holding my gun to his head.And then he’dtalked.Spoken softly, bitterly,reminding me of things I no longer wished to care about.

And now we lieon my bed as the sun creeps over the horizon, and I have slept no morethan a few hours.And I am frightened.Hewill wake soon, and go away.Leaveme here to deal with my broken heart.Idon’t want to love him.I don’t wanthim to love me.I don’t want to bealone.I don’t want him to ruin mylife.But its already too late forall of that.

"Did you know your hair goes curly when it dries naturally?"he whispers.I hadn’t even realisedhe was awake.I turn in his arms,so I am facing him.He smiles atme slowly, unsure of himself, and tucks his arms around me tighter, nervous.Onelong finger toys with a curl that has formed beside my cheek.

"You are a very beautiful woman Miss Parker, did youknow that?" he whispers to me, and closes his eyes.Istare down at him in confusion.I’vealways known that I have sex appeal, perhaps I even used to be pretty,but beautiful?No, my mother wasbeautiful, I am just a lonely woman who’s clothes are too tight, livingon the wrong side of forty.

"You’re a bastard, Jarod." I whisper back.Henuzzles by neck and nibbles on my ear.

"Why’s that?"

"For making me give a damn." I tell him.Hetilts his head back and opens his eyes, staring straight into mine.Andlaughs.

"That’s all I ever wanted Parker."

"Well I can’t stay." He whispers.Shamefully,I am crying.

"Forgive and forget and all that crap I suppose.Untilnext time." I sound so bitter.Mypride got left with my celibacy, apparently.

"Just forget, Miss Parker.Inever understood why we need forgiveness if we can simply forget." Jarodturns to face me now, and I could almost swear he’s crying.Iam choking on my own sobs.

"Should I forget last night too, Jarod?" He does crynow, his body shaking.I want tohelp him but I can’tMy sense ofself preservation is too strong.

"No.I won’t."he pauses, looks around the kitchen mournfully."I should go, I guess." He mutters, and heads for the door.Suddenlyit is imperative that he doesn’t leave, not like this.

"Jarod?" I call, and he stops, one foot half out thedoor.I am scared, but I need toknow for sure.

"Do you love me?" he smiles, gently, and nods, onlyonce.Then he is gone.Mylife is officially ruined.EverythingI have ever believed is broken.Heleft me.

I know he isnot my saviour.I am my own saviour.Icannot find salvation in his arms because I need to be out of them to seeit.I am my own hero.Hehas left me.Left me to be a strongerperson.I am Captain Ahab.Jarodis not my Moby Dick after all.Myown inner strength is.My beliefin myself.

Andme without my harpoon.

Fini.

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Don Jaun's Regrets