Eureka, California has been my new home for the last year. It’s not exactly the San Francisco Bay Area, but it has a lot of heart. The forests called me here once when I came to visit and I took mushrooms in the ancient redwoods. There was not a doubt in my mind about whether or not this coastal town would become my new home.
I came here to prove that I can function away from all the things I have allowed to define my existence.
I spend a lot of time in the forest, and I’ve begun to realize that no matter where I go, there I will always be. The same depression clinging to every centimeter of my mind.
To be honest, the only things that make feel anything are the fog, and Demetria.
The fog is absolutely inescapable, just like Demetria. Everywhere I look, there she is. Just like the fog. It’s not like she’s intentionally looking for things to cloud up, it’s just in her nature. To be everywhere all at once.
The difference between the fog and Demetria is that the fog makes me feel trapped, like I’m living the same day over and over again. Demetria, on the other hand, sets me free.
We met in our Introduction to Metaphysics class when I first transferred here. They had tucked us away into the oldest building in the Forestry department, because they never put Philosophy classes in the newer, nicer buildings. I walked in, and scanned the room. It had those really old metal and wooden desks from the 1970′s, green chalkboards, and disgusting linoleum floors. As I tried to figure out where to sit, my eyes fell on Demetria.
Wow. She was brandishing a white t-shirt, no bra. I tried not to stare at her nipples, and instead moved my eyes to her face. Her black wavy hair fell to the top of her shoulders, her round face was flushed pink. Her plump lips were painted in burgundy lipstick, and her hazel eyes were outlined in black eyeliner.
“Uh okay, are you just going to stare or are you gonna come sit down?” she said, squinting her eyes at me. Shit.
“Sorry. I just.. uhhh…yeah.” I stammered, completely caught off guard at the time. Flustered by how beautiful I found her and how quickly she made me lose my composure. I move and sit at the desk right next to hers.
“Wow, I thought we Philosophers were supposed to be eloquent with words?” Her voice was full of curiosity, like she actually wanted me to answer.
I just stared at her and kind of smiled, not sure of what to say.
“I’m Demetria.” She said, and I swear, it was like God herself had come to rescue me. “Are you new to the program? I haven’t seen you in any of the other classes.” She extends her hand across the aisle, each finger adorned with a different ring.
I grabbed her hand and felt my heart start spinning. “Yeah” I say. “I’m Lucia. I just… moved here.” God I sounded like an idiot. Always losing my shit around beautiful women. I can flirt with any guy and get him to fuck me within the hour. When it comes to girls, I always seem to forget how to talk.
“Lucia, huh?” She smiles and looks off to the distance turning her head upward. “Nice.” She says turning back at me and smiling open mouthed, hazel eyes looking into mine.
“Lucy is fine” I finally smiled back at her more confidently. Then, the professor walked in and began passing out the syllabus and talking about the properties of identity, and asking what it means to exist. We both looked away, but continued to sit next to each other the rest of that semester.
It was right around midterms during that last term that Demetria finally fucked me. We had been hanging out a lot together, and she had been helping me feel less depressed and homesick. We were out on her porch, sitting on a loveseat, and drinking Jim Beam when I told her all about my life back home. About James, and all the different ways he fucked me over. About how I became actually crazy about him. About how I always feel like I’m not a good person, and that my desire to die is never ending. About my fear of being who I really am around the people who used to know me. She just listened and stroked my back.
“You don’t have to be scared, you know?” She said, taking a drag from her cigarette.
“What do you mean?” I responded, leaning my head onto her shoulders. I inhaled her smell; the whiskey, the Camel cigarettes, the vanilla lotion she always wore. “I’m scared of everything. Dying. Living. All of it.”
“You don’t have to be, though” She pulled me away and grabbed my face in her hands. “Like about this, this doesn’t have to be scary.” She said, stroking my hair. She pulled me into her and kissed me. Softly, at first, testing to see what I would do.
Her lips felt like the only thing connecting me to life – perfect.
I lost it. Years of repression and self-doubt about my sexuality just completely disappeared. My hands reached for the back of her head and grabbed her like she could finally release this torment.
When she finally felt how badly I wanted her, she unleashed and climbed on top of me. She positioned her ass perfectly on top of my clit, and began twisting her hips into my body. Her tongue began sucking on my neck, she had one hand on my breast, the other traveling down my stomach. God.
After that, we’ve never really said anything about the type of relationship that we are, if we are serious, or anything. Like I said, Demetria is the fog. Everywhere, here, and there. She isn’t to be bound to a schedule or a season. She just exists, and I would never be the one to try and trap her.
We fuck a lot though. Demetria has taught me to be okay with the way my body can make me feel. Even with all the men I have been with, I have never fully felt like I could let go, but Demetria taught me how release. To make sex be about me and about the person who I’m having sex with. To feel pleasure and to feel good about feeling good. To be okay with my sexuality, and to embrace the beauty that it is to have sex with both men and women.
Now, a year later, I’m moving back home. I’m worried about being back around the same toxic people who I grew up with. To be within driving distance to the people who make me feel trapped in time. The thought of being near Lynn again, near James, and near so many reminders of my past freaks me out. I look forward to seeing Alex. We’ve been texting a lot, and I feel like I know I will always have a friend in him. Demetria says I need to be careful about taking too many steps backwards.
She helps me walk my bags over from her apartment to the Greyhound station. While we wait she holds my hand, and pulls me toward the wall, shoving me into it. Her hands pull my ass into her waist, and she starts kissing me. I’m going to miss her, and the freedom that she makes me feel. She pulls away, and looks me in the eyes.
“Don’t be scared, okay?”