Enough of this. I had a job to do. I realized that I had no idea how to proceed. This detail was one I hadn’t even considered. I’d masturbated when Van was alive. When she was tired, when she didn’t feel like it, when I was traveling, sometimes just for me. But, since her death, I had seldom felt the desire. On the few occasions when needs had arisen, sorrow and guilt had held me back. Now I needed to be different. To be different for Ava.
I closed my eyes. Tried to think of something. Vanessa? That was too difficult. Then a name and a face swan into my consciousness: Ana de Armas. Yes, she would be ideal. Vanessa had jokingly said I could have a pass if it was for Ana. I envisaged her as Joi, from the Blade Runner sequel; I thought with a grimace that I could certainly use some instructions right now. I tried to focus. To visualize. Ana’s perfect face. Her startling, big, green eyes. Her breasts, displayed on a video billboard. Her image caused stirrings. I would surely be dead if Ana didn’t cause stirrings. Then the enormity of what I was doing came crashing in. I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. I knew I was letting Ava down, but I couldn’t.
I wrapped a robe round me and thought about what to tell her. The truth, I guessed. What would this do to her?- – –
I went back into the bedroom, carrying the empty jar; the emblem of my failure. Ava looked up expectantly, she too was wearing a robe. But also blue lab gloves. She saw something was wrong.
My voice was broken and I began to cry as I spoke.
“I’m so sorry, Ava. I can’t. I just can’t. I want to, but…”
She stood and put her arms round me. I buried my head in her shoulder. Her robe was open a little and my face rested against her skin. It was soft, it was comforting. She patted me.
“It’s OK, Martin. I thought this would be difficult. You said, you want to? Is that right?”
I nodded, my face still pressed against her flesh.
“OK. So, Martin, I’m going to ask you to trust me. Do you trust me?”
Again I nodded.
“So just hold me, just relax. Give me the jar, don’t worry about that. It’s all OK.”
She took the jar and put it on the bed, turning back to cradle me again. She whispered, “it’s OK.”
The I felt her hand. Slipping inside my robe. Searching. Finding. I pulled back in shock.
“Ava, what the fuck are you doing?”
“I asked you to trust me. We can do this. Do it together. Let me help you.”
“But, you said… you said not like this. I can’t. I can’t, Ava.”
Suddenly her voice was firmer.
“Yes you can, Martin. You can do this for me, for Josh.”
Josh? His face again. What would I do to see his face again? I’d already decided, hadn’t I? The whole thing was fucked up. Was this any worse? I looked at Ava. Resolute, but also scared. She looked scared. Scared that I would let her down. I couldn’t do that either.
“OK, Ava. I trust you. But I’m going to close my eyes.”
I felt her near me. Fingers undoing the belt of my robe. A pinging sound, which I assumed was her removing a glove. Something was happening to me, despite myself, I could feel blood pumping, filling, engorging. Then her touch. Long, delicate fingers. Caressing. Then gripping. Then stroking. I closed my eyes tight. But, in my mind, I saw her. I saw what she was doing, how I was responding. I felt… I felt desire. For the first time in months. It wasn’t just hydraulics, I wanted her touch. I wanted the feelings she was engendering in me. Was this wrong? I was only doing what she wanted.