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There is something different about having sex with someone you love. Kim didn’t realize that she was in love until just now, thirty minutes ago. Maybe forty-five at this point. But now, laying in her rustled sheets, she figures out that there’s absolutely no way this is any other feeling than classically defined love.
She lies there, fingers gingerly folded over her chest, thinking this over. What it meant to be in love. And how it feels to fuck, and get fucked, by someone you care for so deeply. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, having all of this rush into her head, uninterrupted.
She almost wishes she was alone, solitary in her thoughts, but after tonight, part of her never wants to be alone again. Like, if she had the choice, maybe it would be okay to spend every day, every second with Jimmy. She’s horrified with herself for even thinking that way. So absolutely desperate and dependent. But after so many years alone, unaccompanied, she understands the overwhelming need to be seen. And here is Jimmy, seeing her, live and in color.
His eyes are on her. She can feel it. And it’s not in a weird way. Kim can see in her peripheral the way he’s positioned, with his head propped on his hand, smoking a cigarette with the other.
She had given up smoking inside a while ago. It stuck to furniture and yellowed the walls. Besides, this was a rental and nowhere near her own. This was probably a good thing, considering the mold problem in the kitchen and the family of mice living in the walls. She considers this fact and decides that a cigarette wouldn’t hurt.
She looks over at him, catching his glance. His eyes are soft, gentle, and the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. It’s the quietest happiness she thinks she’s ever seen. “If you’re going to smoke in my house, you can at least give me one,” she says.
Jimmy leans over to the bedside table, taking the semi-crushed box from its spot next to his keys and Kim’s wallet. His eyebrows furrow as he checks inside. “It’s empty,” he says, tilting it towards her. “Do you wanna share?”
“Isn’t that kinda gross?” Kim says, her body now matching Jimmy’s posture, head propped on her hand.
Jimmy eyes her. “You’ve never shared a cigarette with anyone?”
Kim ponders this. “Maybe when I was a teenager.” She says. “I think I realized all kinds of grody stuff can be passed like that.”
“Mmm,” replies Jimmy with a hum. “The clap.”
“Chlamydia, oral thrush, herpes…” Kim says, counting on her fingers, pretending to be far more worried than she actually was. “I can go on.”
Jimmy grins. “I’m familiar, Kim, thank you,” He passes her the cigarette, now half-burned, lit tip glowing in the dark room.
And despite her pretend disgust, Kim takes it. “Hey, gross,” she says through drags. “I don’t wanna hear about every oral infection you’ve ever had.”
“Hey, you’re the one who had sex with me,” he replies, then breaking into another smile, only for it to quickly drop off. “I’m kidding… kidding.”
It doesn’t seem so. Like he’s kidding. Well, he was joking about herpes stuff, but there was a seriousness to his tone, bringing up that they, Kim and Jimmy, actually, finally did it, after shying away and dodging each other for so long. As if some secret was finally admitted between them, and somehow, bringing it up afterward was the most awkward part of it all.
For a minute, they sit there in silence, passing the cigarette between each other, with only their fingers touching for slight seconds. Kim wonders if she’s made a mistake. Like if this silence is going to last forever. But, with an awkward sniff, Jimmy breaks it. “I’m not afraid, Kim,” he says.
She looks over at him. He repeats himself, holding his palms out to her, as if he was showing him all that he had. “I’m not.”
“Get out of my head, why don’t you?” she says, taking an inhale of the cigarette. It’s almost gone now. She wishes she had more.
“So you’re thinking the same?” Jimmy asks, almost like he was in disbelief they were on the same page.
Kim sits up and doesn’t adjust the sheet to cover her chest. Jimmy’s eyes still don’t leave hers. “I don't know,” she replies. “It’s a hard thing to articulate.”
Jimmy agrees with a nod. “I guess what I’m saying is…” His voice trails off as he tucks a stray hair behind Kim’s ear. “I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not afraid of this.” He gestures towards himself, then to Kim, putting his hand on her knee. “Of us.”
“Does having sex make us an us?” She questions, tilting her head.
He clicks his tongue as if he was ashamed of what he had just said. As if it was clumsy. “Well, Kim, I think there was an us long before tonight. You know that.”
She does. Kim does know that. But she didn’t think Jimmy had felt the same intensity, although she’s not sure why he wouldn’t. It’s been years of brushing touches and months of chaste, unexpected kisses. The natural evolution could only be this, making the two into a big fat capitalized ‘u’ Us. Because you can’t go back from this, she thinks, as Jimmy curls his large hand around her lower thigh. It’s a sign of support, but Kim can’t help but feel butterflies.
“So now what?” Kim asks, still pressing on through the stiff conversation, although it would be much easier to collapse into open-mouthed kisses.
“I’m not opposed to round two,” He says, grin dropping as soon as he realizes how serious Kim is. “Sorry, another bad joke.” He finishes off the smoke, and cranes his neck, looking for something to drop the butt into. There’s a wine glass from earlier, and he drops the waste into it. He’s obviously stalling as he finds his words.
Kim doesn’t wait for him. “Well, Jimmy, I just don’t want things to be different. We have work in…” She checks the bedside clock. “Six hours and I don’t want to show up and have people think, sheesh, they finally did it. They finally fucked.”
“I think in your reality people are paying attention to us a lot more than they actually are,” insists Jimmy. “What do you think we’re gonna do? Show up in the same car?”
She shakes her head, now staring over him and out the window. It looks like it could snow tonight. That would be something else.
“And if you think I’m going around saying, ‘Hey, guess what!’ to the fine folks of the mailroom, you’re wrong,” Jimmy continues. “I wouldn’t do that to you, not any woman. That's not me.” He must notice her gazing out the window because he snaps in succession. “Hey, Earth to Wexler. This is serious stuff here!”
Kim looks back at him. “Yeah,” she says, regaining her concentration. “I just… I really don’t want things to be different,” she shakes her head. “Well, they can be a little different. Like... you know.”
“Like this could happen again?” asks Jimmy, tilting his head.
“If the timing is right, sure,” Kim responds, trying to ignore the smile creeping across her face.
Jimmy smiles back. “That’s fantastic.”
He’s right, it is fantastic. That’s a perfect word to describe it. But she doesn’t let herself mull over the feeling like she usually would, instead letting her hands take over. This is classically defined love, she thinks as Jimmy lays her down for the second time of the night. Not that she would tell him anytime soon. This would be her own little secret.