A Big Celebration that goes sides for me

"I--can't," she cries, strangled. And then she's fumbling at the door and slipping around it and with a click of the latch I am alone.

Oh no oh no. I rise unsteadily from the couch, but Geena is gone. Is she angry? Should I be? I look in the mirror above our bureau, and see myself flushed and glowing, my wavy golden hair a mess, a cloud. A minute ago I felt the way I look, but now I am blinking back tears. I think she wouldn't just go tell somebody. She can't! I worry about that a little but then right away my fear for myself slips into the hole she left when she pulled away from me. I feel sick because I groped my roommate and it wasn't okay. And dimly, I wonder how I can face her again. But more than that I just ache because we were so deep into this thing and then she stopped it and my body needs to keep moving into her but instead I am straightening up the couch.

There is nothing more to do in here except get ready for bed. I take my toothbrush and my bruised self to the bathroom to do the bare minimum; I can shower in the morning. I feel forlorn but the faint sounds of the hall, and then the cool tiles on my feet, help to ease me out of my horny fugue, pull the blood away from the surface. I know things will work out. Maybe I will even masturbate once I am in bed.

I take care of my toiletry mechanically, not thinking. It occurs to me as I am leaving the bathroom that Geena might have been in one of the stalls... and a moment later I see her back, turning the corner, as she walks toward our room. She passed right by me while I was peeing maybe. I don't know. But now I must face her.

When I open the door she is pulling on her boxers, and I feel relieved that she is doing something so ordinary as getting ready for bed too. She looks up at me and before I can speak she says "I'm so sorry." Her voice is tight somehow, but she looks basically calm. Her hands are at her hips, her soft dark eyebrows gracefully knit.

"Oh," I say, as some of the weight suddenly lifts from me. I'm not sure whether I should apologize too. Geena opens her mouth to say something else but no sound emerges. Then she starts toward me, one arm partly raised. She looks stuck. I feel a rush of empathy and almost leap in to hug her. I clasp her tightly, and she quickly responds in kind.