Bananapants: A Bonkers Romantic Comedy

Bananapants: Chapter 27



“I don’t wish to be without my brains, tho’ they doubtless interfere with a blind faith which would be very comfortable.”

— Ada Lovelace, Attributed

Is this happiness? Or is this bipolar?

As I lay in bed, lost in the beauty of everything Ava, my heart lodged itself in my throat. It had been pushed there by euphoria, and I made a mental note to call my psychologist as soon as possible. What I currently felt might’ve been hypomania. Then again, it might’ve been happiness. Hard to tell.

“Do you go to that sports bar often when you’re in town?”

“Pardon?” My hand stilled on her body. We lay in her bed, I was the big spoon, she was the little one. I’d been sorta petting her, smoothing my hand from her hip to her stomach, up to her ribs, pausing to spend some time with her breasts, and then making a return trip. Repeat.

“The sports bar,” she said.

One reason I doubted hypomania as the culprit was Ava currently wore nothing but a sheet, whereas I’d had the presence of mind, and most importantly the self-control, to keep my boxers on. She might’ve reached inside a few times, but they hadn’t come off.

Another reason, I was content to be still, to lie next to her. If it were hypomania, I would’ve (usually) wanted to be in motion. Or, on the rare occasions I did sit still during a breakthrough episode, I would’ve been hyperfixating and focusing on a single issue, problem, or task, ignoring all else.

Maybe you’re hyperfixated on Ava.

At my silence, Ava turned to face me and shifted away.

“Which one?” I frowned at the loss of her body filling my hand and the distance between us, resisting the urge to pull her back into my arms.

“The one where I got tipsy on vodka and then propositioned you in your car.”

“Ah. Yes. That bar. No, I’d never been there before.” Surrendering to the urge, I reached for her and she came willingly. An explosion of awesomeness warmed my chest, making me feel impervious to sadness, and a flood of irrational thoughts filtered through my mind.

I will always be happy like this for the rest of my life. I will never be upset or sad again. Life from now on will be perfect.

I struggled to suppress the insane optimism, the allure of foolish bliss was so tempting. But I knew, deep down, they were nonsense. I only ever had these kinds of thoughts and felt like this—this extremely happy, hopeful, and carefree—during a hypomanic episode.

So, again, happiness or bipolar?

Whatever it was, it had been building since Friday, from the moment Ava kissed me. I wasn’t exactly worried, I was too elated to be worried. More like, I was alert. I’d learned to constantly self-evaluate my mood, to be aware of it at all times. Safer that way.

“The child bartender asked if you go there often and you said, ‘Don’t you recognize me?’ or something like that. Why’d you say that if you’ve never been there?”

I rolled on my back and brought her with me, encouraging Ava to lay on my chest so my hands would have better access to her body. “I always say that when someone asks if I’m a regular.”

She rested an elbow on my chest and peered down at me. “Why?”

My breath caught at the sight of her like this. She was so smart and funny and kind and beautiful. And she was naked. And she was mine. And I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.

It won’t last. You’re a fuckup and soon she’ll figure that out.

I shoved away that new insidious thought, easier to identify and dismiss for me than the insanely optimistic ones. For some people it was the opposite—easier for them to believe the negative thoughts than the positive ones.

I knew how to quiet the insidious thoughts better, but unlike the upbeat ones, they would never go completely silent. I’d accepted they would always be with me, waiting for a depressive episode so they could get loud and take over. But you know what? I’d learned to deal. After almost thirteen years, I knew how to recognize them and separate insidious and irrational thoughts from facts and reality. Practice, practice, practice.

“Des, why?” she asked again, pushing on my chest with her fingertips. “Why do you say, ‘Don’t you recognize me?’”

“Uh, well.” I had to shift my attention to the ceiling in order to think, the sight of Ava made it difficult to concentrate. “It gives me options and less to remember.”

“It gives you less to remember? What does that mean?”

I bent my arm behind the pillow and propped my head up, careful to keep from looking at her. I was learning that whenever I looked at Ava, she derailed my train of thought. “If I’m working a job and I go to a bar or restaurant or wherever, and someone tells me I look familiar or asks me how often I go to that place, I always respond with, ‘Don’t you recognize me?’ It can be taken as a joke and dismissed, and it’s rarely questioned. Or, if I later want to establish that I’m a regular, I can pretend the question was serious. That response gives me options, in case I need to amend my story later. Plus, I don’t like committing to one answer, or answering questions, if I don’t have to.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

Giving myself permission for a quick peek, I glanced at her, then away. “But I’ll answer all your questions. Ask me anything.”

“Well, thank you. That makes me feel special.”

The hand not propping up my pillow slid under the sheet in search of her skin. As I’ve mentioned, my hands are exceptionally smart. “You are special.” I debated whether to ask what I wanted, stalling with, “Will you answer one of my questions?”

“Sure.” Ava lifted her head higher.

I pretended to study her hair while I steeled myself to look in her eyes again. “Do you ever fantasize about a real person? Or what do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“Oh!”

I gauged her reaction. “You don’t have to tell me⁠—”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Ava’s gaze settled on some spot behind me. “Honestly? This might sound strange, but I have to imagine a whole scenario first. Like, a backstory going back several months, if not years.”

“Uh, explain please.” My hand on her body paused on her bottom.

“So, I have a few and it’s always like, there’s this guy and we become friends, right?” She wrinkled her nose and I noticed her cheeks turn pink. She rolled off of me and onto her back, her eyes on the ceiling as she continued. “We hang out for a long time, and then I start to notice things about him that are cute and funny. And he’s always so great, thoughtful.”

Interesting.

I faced her, lying on my side. “How long does this take? I mean, how long do you lie in bed, setting things up before you get down to it?”

She covered her face with a pillow, muffling her response.

I leaned forward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Ava pulled the pillow away dramatically, revealing a scowl. “It takes me about an hour! Okay? It takes me an hour of setup and then I do the thing, and then it’s over in five minutes. Happy?”

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh.

I bit my lips, rolling on my back again and staring forward, struggling not to laugh. I didn’t want her to think I was laughing at her or thought her fantasy process was silly. I didn’t think that, but she was so adorable. This was so Ava.

“What? Are you laughing at me?”

“No.” I shook my head, struggling to subdue a smile, and decided I needed to volunteer some thoughts to put her at ease. “You’re consistent in every facet of your life. I love that you have a backstory where you slowly fall in love with someone before sex. It’s like when we’d try to play Dungeons and Dragons and you needed all the world details before playing the game.”

“I recently argued with Grace about this! See?” She poked me. “You understand.”

“I do.” I nodded, turning my head to look at her again. My heart skipped and then soared because Ava was smiling at me and she was so fucking gorgeous. I know I’m a broken record about it, but her beauty hit me right in the chest every single time.

It was like the time I’d jumped off a cliff, right into the ocean. At the time, I didn’t have a choice.

The way Ava looked at me now, her eyes big and bright, I was the center of her attention and possibly her world, and she couldn’t wait to see what I did next, what I said, like she felt I truly understood her, and that I was meaningful to her. That’s what it felt like, jumping from a cliff into the ocean. And similar to then, I didn’t have a choice.

“What about you?” Still grinning, Ava hit my shoulder lightly. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

The bravado of her question, so boldly spoken, was ruined by the blush on her cheeks turning from pink to red.

Watching her reaction carefully, I said, “Ava Archer.”

She tilted her head. “Yes?”

“That’s what I think about.”

Her eyebrows pulled together even as her mouth curved into a confused smile. “What?”

My gaze dropped to her lips and I confessed again, “I think about you.”

She hit me on the shoulder, harder this time. “No, you don’t.”

I lifted up and leaned over her. “I do.”

Ava rolled her eyes, snorting a disbelieving laugh.

Bending to her neck, I kissed and bit the soft skin beneath her jaw. One of my intelligent hands slid down her torso and cupped her as I whispered, “I think about you—only you—when I touch myself.”

Her body arched and a soft, panting breath escaped her. “If—if you don’t want to tell me⁠—”

Licking her earlobe, I told her the truth. “My whole life, you are the only one I think about when I touch myself, and when I come.”

She panted again, hot and sudden. Then she grabbed my hair and forcefully brought my mouth to hers. Ava kissed me and I lost track of time in this web of euphoria she spun, unwilling to think about how I’d loaded a weapon and handed it over, asked her to cover me, and trusted that she wouldn’t accidentally or on purpose use that weapon against me.

I could only hope when all was said and done, Ava would have my back.

“Raz. You have to go. Today.” Sue made no attempt to soften the news, as usual. And she munched on something while she told me. My guess was nuts. Soft ones, not almonds. She’d just gone to the dentist for a broken molar, thanks to an almond.

“The timing could be better, Sue.” I rubbed a hand over my face, glaring at the front of Ava’s office building. I’d dropped her off at work. Curtis and Jacob followed her inside. We never did watch a movie or eat dinner last night, but I’d slept over at her place and woke up in a great fucking mood. Like Christmas and Easter and the Cubs winning the World Series kind of good mood.

I needed to call my psychologist about the possibility of a breakthrough hypomanic episode, I’d been putting it off, and now this shit.

“There’s no security team at the compound in the Caymans. He sent them all home after what happened at the Harding Building. The only thing covering the Cayman property is the microarray system, and you tricked Quail into giving you the customer spec sheet schematics earlier this week. You know how to get in and out undetected. It’s now or never. Then we can put this Robin Hood BS behind us.” If Sue spoke with her mouth full on the phone, it meant she was tense. Clearly, she was tense about this.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll go tomorrow.”

“No. Today.” Her words were garbled, like she’d shoved a new handful of food in her mouth. “Now. Like, ten minutes ago.”

“I need to say goodbye to—uh—some people first.”

“You’ll see Ava when you get back. Give her a call, say it’s an emergency. She’s cool. She’ll understand.”

I sighed. Loudly.

“Call her now. Tell her you’re leaving. Or if you’re too infatuated to tell her over the phone, quit the job, quit the business, let me retire, open that aikido studio you keep talking about, get married or matching tattoos. Whatever. You and your fucking Robin Hood BS. I’m hanging up. Your flight is booked.” Munch, munch, munch. “Guiero is already on his way to pick you up. Should be pulling up in . . . two minutes. Love ya. Bye.”

“Sue—”

She hung up.

I sighed again. Not as loud this time because she wasn’t on the line to hear it.

“Fine. Fine. Fucking whatever,” I grumbled to no one, which made me frown. As a rule, I didn’t like to speak to myself. It wasn’t a habit I felt I should adopt. Ever.

Pulling up Ava’s contact info, I decided to call instead of text. I needed to talk to her about this, make sure she was okay with it.

As I was about to place the call, Guiero pulled up and rolled down the passenger window, motioning me to get inside. “We have to go, boss.”

Nodding and scowling, I let myself in the car, buckled up, and we pulled into traffic. Lifting the phone to my ear, I faced the window and listened to Ava’s side ring and ring. It went to voicemail.

Lowering the phone, I frowned, thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

“Did Sue send you the flight details? Do we have time to go back? For me to run in and do something real fast?”

Guiero made a left. “No time. We have an hour until the flight. Private charter. They’re taking twenty, won’t wait for you, and your gear is already on board.”

“When did you do that?

He shrugged and made a right. “We couldn’t reach you this morning so Sue assumed you’d be fine with it. I drove it over before breakfast.”

Grunting, I looked at my phone again and decided a voicemail was better than a text. Calling her again, I hoped she’d pick up. When she didn’t, I left her a voicemail to call me back, saying it was urgent, then settled back in the seat, stewing.

Guiero got me to the small regional airport in record time. Still, it was tight. I checked in under an alias, but the attendant didn’t pay attention to my paperwork. She’d grinned at me. A lot. And hoped I’d be back in Chicago soon. Real soon.

I gave her a stiff smile and opened my passport wallet, making sure Ava’s picture was front and center while I tucked my fake documents inside.

“Who is that?” the attendant asked, leaning forward to inspect the photo.

“My girlfriend. Beautiful, right?” I said the words I must’ve spoken a hundred times before, but they felt different this time since they were no longer a lie. Better, but also worse.

I shouldn’t be leaving without telling her in person.

Unease making breathing difficult, I turned from the counter toward the small security station. Once through, I pulled out my phone again. Frowning at the empty screen, I pushed it back in my pocket, but then it buzzed. Yanking it out again, I read the screen and answered the call immediately.

“Hello? Ava?”

“Yes! Sorry. I was in a meeting.” A door clicked shut. “I called you as soon as I could. What’s up?”

Hearing her voice eased the tightness in my chest.

“Listen, I have to leave town for a bit and I won’t be able to call for a while.” I paused here to give Ava a chance to respond. She didn’t.

Sue’s words from earlier—advising me to tell Ava this was an emergency—prompted me to add, “It’s an emergency. For work. Something came up, but I’ll be back next week. Uh, you won’t be able to reach me either. Sue might reach out if something comes up, but don’t try to contact her just in case she somehow—in the unlikely event—is compromised. I don’t want you in danger. But feel free to call Alex if you need to, if you have an emergency. He can get through to us.” This was a lot of information for me to share. I wasn’t used to telling anyone this much.

Then again, I wasn’t used to wanting someone to expect an explanation from me. I was disappointed and frustrated about having to leave so suddenly. It probably made me an asshole but I wanted Ava to be bothered by it too. I wanted to commiserate about missing each other.

Mostly, I wanted her to say something. Anything.

Slowing my steps as I walked to the gate, I could see they were almost finished boarding and I didn’t want to have this conversation with Ava in front of an audience, even if they could only hear my side.

Yet, she still didn’t respond. I removed the phone from my ear and checked the status of the call. It said we were still connected.

I brought it back to my ear. “Ava? Are you there?”

“I’m here.” Her voice was strange.

I stopped walking. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing,” she said, then quieter, “I’ll miss you.”

I sighed. That was better. Those were the words I wanted to hear.

I watched the action at the gate. There were only a few passengers left to walk down to the jet bridge. “I’ll miss you. I’ll be back next week, the week after at the latest.” It should only take a few days unless I got injured, but I didn’t want to say that out loud for obvious reasons. Nor did I want to promise I’d be back next week, get hurt and need to stay put to recover, and then have to break my promise.

“Okay.”

Her tone made my stomach sink. “Ava.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“You sound like—” I lowered my voice. “Ava, you believe me, right?”

“If you say you’ll be back, I believe you.”

She didn’t believe me. Ugh. Fuck this shitty feeling.

I rubbed my forehead, uncertain what to do. “Hey. Promise me something.”

“What?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Promise me something. Anything.” I didn’t have much time. Sue was right, I had to go. Now. This was my chance to end the job and fix things for Hareem.

“Fine.” She huffed. “If you make it back by next Friday, I promise I’ll call you Daddy all day Saturday.”

“I’ll be back before Friday,” I said immediately, hoping she’d laugh.

She laughed. “You’re hilarious, Des. I still don’t understand the whole Daddy thing.”

The tightness around my lungs eased at the sound of her laughter. Giving my legs permission to move again, I approached the gate. “I think it’s because dads are seen as capable and dependable, mature and reasonable. I think calling me DILF would also work. I honestly don’t know. I really like it when you say it. Makes me think you see me that way.

“I do see you that way.”

My smile was automatic, as was the warmth in my stomach caused by her words. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you for being capable. And dependable . . .” Ava paused here, but I got the sense she had more to say.

“What is it?”

“Maybe you’re the one with—you know—daddy issues.”

I barked a laugh. She got me there. “You think?”

“I mean, not in a sexual way. But I think you really respect your father. I think you’ve always seen him as someone to look up to, reasonable, capable, dependable. I think you admire him.”

Finally making it to the gate, I positioned myself at the back of the line. “I do admire him. But I wish—” Since I didn’t know how to finish that sentence, I said, “Never mind.”

“You should ask him to apologize.”

I handed the gate attendant my ticket. He checked it and handed it back. “What?”

“I think you should ask him to apologize to you for how he wasn’t there for you, how you needed, when you were younger. For the mistakes he made. Knowing your dad, they weren’t intentional, but he still owes you an apology.”

Now on the jet bridge, I shook my head. “I need to go.”

No way would I ever ask my father to apologize. Ever. I still hoped he’d somehow, someday understand the nature of my disease. At least now he was still willing to see me if I asked.

“Think about it,” she said.

“Ava. We’ll talk about this later.” I wouldn’t think about it. His reaction, if I requested an apology, would probably be to cut me out and I wouldn’t be able to handle that. I wanted to know him, and I didn’t want to ever give him a reason to write me off completely.

“Will we? Will we talk about it later?” she asked.

There were seven people ahead of me, but the line to board moved fast. “Yes.”

“Are you lying to me right now?”

My feet stopped again, along with my heart. “What?”

“Will I see you again?”

Confused by the sudden shift in our conversation—I thought we were all good, I thought I’d done a good job explaining the situation—I turned away from the plane and whispered harshly, “Of course.” What the fu⁠—

“Okay. If you say so.” She sniffled.

Again, my heart stopped. My chest hurt, ached. “You don’t believe me.” Shit.

“It’s just that you always do this thing where you say what someone wants to hear and then do whatever you want anyway. So, I guess, if this is the last time I’ll be talking to you⁠—”

I spoke over her. “It’s not. It’s not the last time. Ava⁠—”

“—then I should tell you that I love you a lot, no matter what.” Now she spoke over me, ignoring my words. We were now speaking over each other and her voice continued to rise, growing unsteady until the fact that she was crying became obvious. “And I hope whatever path you take brings you fulfillment and joy⁠—”

“—would you please listen to me? Please?” Tight and painful, my heart felt like a hammer, pounding on a stubborn nail that wouldn’t move. “I’m telling you the truth. I wouldn’t leave you without telling you. I wouldn’t leave you, period. You will see me⁠—”

“—even if that road is one you take without me. Goodbye, Des.”

“—next week,” I said, too late.

She’d hung up.

FUCK!


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