Hazardous - Jackie Davis-Martin

The hazard was the exposure. She couldn’t possibly tell either of them.

That’s the way Audrey determined she’d set up the story. She’d call her character Ava, close but not exact, since everyone knew she wrote mostly about herself in one way or another. Everyone. She laughed there—a little harrumph to herself—since ‘everyone’ meant those who read what she wrote, which was a small set to begin with.

Ava could not possibly tell either Paul or Malik that she was sleeping with another man. If she told Paul, she risked several reactions that she could not endure. One was his refusal to ever see her again, to ever have those lovely moments in his big big bed bent over a volume of Yeats or Snodgrass, heads together and legs under the sheets, reading aloud, until they’d be entangled again.

Audrey re-read what she’d just made up about Ava. The name Ava maybe sounded too exotic, suggesting Gardner. But possibly a younger audience wouldn’t think of that, and besides, her audience wasn’t young; she didn’t have much of an audience really. So: Ava.

Paul was lovely! That’s all Ava could think. His body, his mind. She loved his clothes. She couldn’t give him up, give up their weekends together. Or their every-other weekend since Paul had a child, Paulie, who lived out of state, whom he visited on the weekends in between.

Ava had it made. If it weren’t for her conscience.

In between there was Malik. Malik worked weekends, conveniently for Ava, worked at a newspaper publishing plant actually working the presses. Malik was perhaps even smarter than Paul, although Paul had a smarter job. Ava would drive to Malik’s house (the way she drove to Paul’s) and he’d fix them breakfast or dinner depending on the time of day. She accommodated his schedule. Malik knew a great deal about psychology, about analysis; Ava felt she had to be forthright with him at all times (which she knew was a bit of a joke, considering her dilemma) and felt, when she was with him, that the air was purer, freer than it was with Paul who really postured a bit.

So: why did Ava have to admit anything? She’d gone on like this for six months—maybe more?—with the tension of one discovering the other and what it would mean.

Audrey paused in her writing. Did she have enough of a conflict going on? What was at stake for Ava now that wasn’t before?

The problem was that Malik changed his job. He applied for and actually received a teaching position at the community college in an effort to change his lot, to invite Ava fully into his life, he said. He hadn’t had much to offer her, but he would; he’d work at it. Besides, they’d have the weekends together now, far more suitable for her teaching schedule, too. Ava had told Malik she marked her students’ compositions on weekends, or went on outdoor club hikes with her girlfriends. Malik was so emotionally available—Ava guessed that was the word—that she could only imagine his reaction to her breaking things off with him. He’d cry; he’d openly grieve, not at the loss of her, but at the loss of what he perceived her to be; he’d cry that she was not the forthright woman he saw her as, frank and open and smart. He’d called her “my bright penny.” Then he’d probably throw something, too. He thought physical release was good, maybe why sex with Malik was one of the most satisfying experiences she’d ever had. That and the fact that he was so well endowed.

Audrey hesitated. Why not say “that and his big penis.”Big dick. Why not eliminate those words all together? The words themselves were hazardous.

So: Ava would have to endure hurting Malik if she told him. Worse, she’d have to give him up; she wouldn’t have that comfort in her life. She’d just have Paul. But was ‘having Paul’ even an option? Paul was playful; they’d go out to dinner, to an occasional concert, they’d play around in bed, but he seemed distracted with his other life, too, the child. Suppose she told Paul about Malik? “Are you some whore?” he’d say. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” He’d turn his back, right there in his own living room, forcing her to get in her car and drive home. How could she live without Paul?

Audrey sighed. Was Ava’s choice enough of a hazard? Maybe she’d re-write Paul a bit, make him a teacher at Ava’s school, hazard that exposure too. She’d have to think about it more. She’d decide something. She had to finish the story.