Me & Mine

20. 50 Shades of Fay

I spend most of Sunday refining my essay on The Great Gatsby and the American Dream. I have always been obsessed with the ideals of American society, the self-made men, the city upon a hill, the shining beacon of hope – just like Gatsby watching the green light at the end of Daisy's dock, the American sees in those ideals the promise of wealth, of happiness, of belonging. I, however, strongly agree with George Carlin, the American Dream is a dream because you have to be asleep to believe it. And in a way I feel that Gatsby was asleep too, constructing his reality out of a phantom image of could-have-been's and one-upon-a-time's. Daisy was never real. Not his Daisy, at least.

I smirk as I unlock my phone to a message I read a thousand times over. Max, however, my Max, is very real. "Goodmorning love," the message reads, "I'm picking you up at 7 tonight. Just us."

It's five minutes before seven now and my pacing down the hall drives Amory crazy. "Fay!" He yells from the kitchen. "You're making me nervous!"

"But I am nervous Am!" I shoot back at him. He ignores me and I walk over to the hallway mirror. I curled my hair for tonight, winged my eyes and brushed my teeth a thousand times. I look good. I think. I hope. I don't know. Maybe after tonight Max will not hold as much power over me anymore because this nervosity is driving me insane. I am wearing the same black lace top I wore to the party, simple jeans shorts, white sneakers and a black leather jacket. This time I don't want to cut the date short because I got cold.

The doorbell rings and my heart jumps. I take a deep breath and walk over to the door. "Bye Am!" I shout and my brother pops his head around the door to the kitchen. "Have fun," he smiles and I twirl around for him. "How do I look?"

"You look great sis," he says, "now open the door and for God's sake kiss him already!" I stick out my tongue and roll my eyes. With another deep breath I open the door. It was still light outside, the warm glow of the setting sun framing the man in front of me. I smile and he smiles back at me. "Hi beautiful," he whispers.

"Hi," I whisper back. Even in just his jeans and a white tee, he looked amazing.

"Shall we?" He steps aside and I slam the door shut behind me. He opens the door to the passenger seat for me and I get in, nerves and butterflies and tension and more nasty things building up in my chest. I can't even control my own facial expressions anymore, so I smile, like a dumb fool. At least Max is smiling as well. He starts the car and drives off.

"Where are we going?" I ask, letting my head fall back.

"The lake," he smiles, "I thought going there could be our thing."

"I'd like that."

He smiles at me and I study the curvature of his lips, the intensity of his eyes, the confidence with which he carries himself. I know the road by now and anticipate every turn closer with a flurry of stupid belly-feelings.

We turn into the parking lot and drive a bit further, down an old grovely road that leads right to a patch of track-ridden grass. He parks the car there, in total view of the lake and the hill on which we had our first date, the sun slowly setting in the distance. We get out of the car and he rushes over to my side. I stand with my back against the car, waiting for him to get closer to me. He stares at me, his eyes piercing and glistening with a familiar want. I lose my breath and look up at him as he slowly gets closer, pinning me between his body and the car. My heart pounds so hard I'm afraid he'll hear it. My blood rushes and my breath returns, uncontrollable. I can feel his breath on my skin, his face hovering inches away from mine. He slowly moves his hands to my waist, softly caressing the soft fabric of my top. I arch my back, pressing my body against his, wanting him to grab me.