Pet Gorilla

It wasn't so much the wrong side of the bed as much as the wrong side of her lover. Had they agreed on that term yet? Was this really the fourth stab at such deliberation? So what that another dinner made for two served only one. Life is bigger, right? It must go on. It didn't have to be another woman this time. They were past that. Which is why she finished up her reading last night after her guitar lesson without a peep. Even after he bounced through the living room while they were practicing, overly jovial, and waited for her in bed. He missed dinner and didn't return her phone calls. She was late to bed and leery of an argument.

According to the part of her that had already given up, his nervous attentiveness did not count as an apology. Even after a night's sleep. According to the part of him that feared her, he shouldn't admit anything unless walking a plank over hungry sharks. Cuddling would be much easier if she'd go for it. She wasn't biting. Shit. This might require a talk...He hated the plank and so left, forgetting his phone. She wished things didn't have to go there in the first place. Still, the day wasn't ruined.

She enjoyed a light-hearted session with her client and readied herself for an afternoon colloquium. Amidst her efforts to move on with the day, she couldn't ignore that the habituated seduction of technology would bring him back for a second round. After a short knock, he stalked through the living room headed for his phone, no bouncy 'it's no big deal' joviality this time. "Where's my phone!? I put it right here last night when I came in." She surveyed the dresser and handed him the phone. "Oh." Even if he had stormed out this morning in a cussing fit, he still didn't want to lose her. So he sat down, determined to put her on the plank. She could tell right away that his strategy wasn't going to leave room for much light at the end of the tunnel. An hour and a half of failed signals later, they finally started to find each other.

"It's true. I'm like having a pet gorilla." He snuggles up to her on the couch and leans into her until they’re lying side by side.
She laughs and softens a bit, excited by this unexpected idea. "Yah! Like a pit bull! The kind friends warn about, but the owner swears he's sweet as pie. And he is. He sleeps with her every night, snuggling. Until a sudden appetite for the jugular overwhelms him and all the friends just shake their heads in sorrow. If only she'd listened."
"Um..."
"Not quite what you had in mind?"
"I like the gorilla better. A pit bull is vicious. The gorilla can hurt you without meaning to. It just doesn't know it's own power. Plus, a pit bull would make you white trash." He flashes her a one-front-toothless grin. His implant appointment required a two-month wait.

She laughs and remembers all the gourmet meals he cooked her in the discreet quarters of his old trailer. She'd never been to a trailer park before. She had attended a Seminar on Whiteness at Davis, though, while visiting a friend in grad school last year. An old sticker by his door read, "Don't come a knockin' if the trailer's a rockin'." He's since found residence for more sophisticated tastes in a downtown loft. Gun shots aside, at least the trailer never sported the sound of neighbors in heat while the two of them lay in the cold of an all night stand off.

"It's a good thing you entertain me sometimes or all this emotional drama would bore me to literal tears.” She smiles. ”When in doubt, gimme material."

He squeezes her to him and nuzzles his head to her chest as they buy some time from "Stay or go?"