Dark Moon (2 page)

When I got home
that evening, Maryanne was standing in front of the mirror on our wall,
carefully applying mascara. “Going out?” I asked.

“Yeah, there’s a
party at Sigma Chi house. Want to come?” she said without looking at me.

“No, thanks.” I
slung my purse on the floor and sat down in the chair in front of my desk.

“Oh come on,
Lana,” Maryanne wheedled. “You
never
go out. There’s going to be this
guy there - ”

I held up my hand.
“Woah, you can stop right there, MA,” I interrupted, using the nickname I’d given
to her freshmen year.

“But why?” she
whined. “I’ve known you for two years now, and you’ve never had a boyfriend, or
even a
date
, in all that time.”

“I’m just really
focused on academics,” I said lamely.

“Even brainy girls
go on dates. And it’s not for lack of interest! Do you know how many guys have
asked me about you? Too many to count!” Maryanne’s face turned serious. “Is there
something you aren’t telling me?”

“I’m not a
lesbian, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said dryly.

Maryanne laughed.
“You dork. I know that! You’re too feminine to be a lesbian.”

“That’s not true,”
I argued. “Haven’t you heard of lipstick lesbians?” I was enjoying our banter.

“Don’t try to
change the subject!” Maryanne said. “I mean, I know this is personal, but have
you
ever
had a boyfriend before?”

“Yes,” I answered
defensively.

“Did something bad
happen? Is that why you’ve sworn off romance?”

I hesitated for
only a moment. “No.”

But Maryanne
picked up on my pause. “You’re hiding something,” she said quietly. “I’m your
best friend. You can confide in me.”

I had never told
anyone about the night It happened, not even Carrie. I’d left Damon, bloodied
and bruised, passed out with a concussion, and run back to my cabin. The next
day he said he was out for a walk and fell down a hill, and that’s how he’d
gotten so beaten up.

Why not tell
her
? I thought. I had nothing to lose. I wouldn’t reveal the
real
ending,
of course. But it would give her a reason, an explanation for why I didn’t
date.

“There was an
incident,” I said slowly. “I was fifteen. To make a long story short, my
boyfriend tried to rape me. We were at summer camp, and I was dumb enough to
think he’d be okay with making out every night, and not try to take it any further.”
I studied my nails as I was speaking. It sounded so weird to say the words out
loud.

Maryanne gasped.
“What the fuck? Are you fucking serious? That’s horrible!”

“I know!” I exclaimed.
“I haven’t felt like dating much since then. Although I did have another
boyfriend, Jeff, about a year later.”

“Well no wonder
you’re gun – er, guy – shy.” Maryanne had a shocked expression on
her face. “How did you get away? Did you press charges?”

“I kicked him in
the balls,” I lied. “And then I ran.”

Maryanne let out a
low whistle. “I always knew you were one tough chick.”

If only you
really knew what I was
, I thought sadly.

“To answer your
other question, no, I didn’t press charges. His father got a new job a few
weeks into the school year and he moved out of state,” I said.

“Did you at least
talk to anyone? Like a school counselor or something?”

“Nope, you’re the
only soul in the world I’ve ever told.”

Maryanne smiled.
“Well, I’m flattered you could open up to me.” She paused. “Can I ask you
something else? It’s personal and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want
to.” Maryanne wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“Ask away,” I
said.

“Are you, a, um
virgin?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“I had no idea,”
Maryanne said apologetically. “You must think I’m a terrible person, having
guys over as often as I do.”

I laughed. “Don’t
be an idiot. You should do what makes you happy,” I said honestly. “Life is too
short not to.”

Maryanne looked
relieved. “Do you want to talk about it some more?”

“Nah, the past is
the past. Go to your party; you don’t want to be late.”

“You’re more
important than any party,” Maryanne said. “In fact, why don’t I ditch it? I’ll
get my friend Doug to buy us wine and we can eat pizza and watch movies.”

“That does sound
nice, but I don’t want you to change your plans because of me. You look great
and I know how much you like those frat parties,” I said.

“I’m sure there
will be another one tomorrow.” Maryanne waved her hand dismissively. She picked
up her phone to make a call.

“Hey, Dougie,” she
said in a flirty voice. Pause. “No, I can’t get together tonight, but that’s
sweet of you to ask. I’m having a girls’ night in. Can you be a dear and get us
a couple bottles of wine?” Pause. “You will? Oh Dougie, you really are the
best. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Maryanne grinned
and hung up the phone. “Doug will be here with wine in about half an hour. I
asked for two – you know, just in case we need one more sip after the
first bottle is gone.”

“Don’t get me too
drunk,” I countered. “You might bring out my inner lipstick lesbian.”

Maryanne snickered.
“Whatever.”

“You’ve really got
them wrapped around your finger,” I commented, thinking about how confident she
sounded talking to Doug. I had never paid much attention to the boys who earned
an envelope on the door – who the fuck was I to judge? If Maryanne wanted
to have fun, then she should have fun. Sex was just sex. I’d never had it, but
I still had no problem with the concept – as long as it involved two
consenting people.

“You could too,”
she shot back. “If you wanted.”

“Well, I don’t
want.” Before she could say anything else I grabbed my iPad off my desk. “What
pizza do you want, MA?”

 She wrinkled
her nose and pushed her long blond hair behind her shoulders. “Low carb?” We
both laughed.

“Thin crust,
pepperoni and olive?” I suggested. It was really just a routine. Maryanne and I
always got the same pizza. “You can just eat the toppings, if you’re worried
about carbs,” I offered, knowing full well that we’d both chow down on the
delicious slices and bemoan our stupid decision the next day.

Maryanne nodded
vigorously. “That sounds like a plan.”

I put the order
through, then grabbed a quick shower. I must have been getting used to the
hospital, because I didn’t picture all of the imaginary germs that were
permeating my skin. Soon after I had gotten out of the shower and thrown on a
pair of shorts and a tank top, Doug turned up with the wine.

“Hey, baby,” he
said when Maryanne opened the door, leaning in to kiss her. She turned her face
so that he was forced to kiss her cheek instead. I stifled a laugh.

“You really are
the best,” she gushed, ushering Doug into the room. “Let me go get some glasses.
You should stay and have a drink with us.” Maryanne walked into the small
kitchen area and started searching for wine glasses.

“Hi, Lana,” Doug
said awkwardly.

“Hey,” I replied.
We stood there in uncomfortable silence. It’s not that I had anything against
Doug, I just didn’t know him. He was good-looking, with strawberry blond hair
and an athletic build. But Doug wasn’t the type Maryanne usually favored. Like
me, MA preferred men who were tall with dark hair.

Doug was one of
the guys Maryanne had ‘dated’ off and on for as long as I could remember. I
wondered if he thought he was her boyfriend.
He did try to kiss her at the
door.

Thankfully, Maryanne
returned and set down three wine glasses on the table in the middle of the
room. Our dorm room was tiny; each of our beds was on opposite sides of the
room. Apart from that, the only other furniture was my desk, the table in the
middle and Maryanne’s oversized swivel chair.

“Have a seat,”
Maryanne said to Doug, who was still standing with his hands stuffed in his
pockets. He sat down on the edge of her bed and, after pouring the wine,
Maryanne sat down next to him, so close that their legs were touching. I
resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

It was another reason
I didn’t go to social events. I couldn’t stand watching other people flirt. I
didn’t like it, even back when I was with Damon. At first I thought it was
because I was no good at flirting, but I later realized it was because it was
all so
fake
. Why the pretense? How come people couldn’t just say what
they thought?

I downed my red
wine in one big gulp and reached for the bottle to pour another. Maryanne
flashed a concerned look in my direction.

“Cheers,” I said,
raising my glass towards them. 

“Lana just started
an exciting new volunteer shift at the hospital,” Maryanne said, trying to drag
me into the conversation. I shot her a dirty look.

“Oh yeah? How’s
that going?” Doug asked.

Like he cares.
He just wants me to leave and Maryanne to put the envelope up on the door.

“Fine.” I took
another big sip of my wine. It was starting to make me feel light-headed. I
liked the sensation. I hadn’t eaten since the morning and I wasn’t much of a
drinker to begin with.

I found myself
thinking about Dr. Reynolds, wondering what his body looked like under that
white doctor’s coat.
Snap out of it!
I told myself sternly. I tried to
focus on the conversation between Maryanne and Doug.

“You should really
come watch me play,” Doug was saying.
That’s right. Doug is on the baseball
team.

“Definitely! Just
tell me when your next game is!” Maryanne said enthusiastically. Then she stood
up abruptly. Doug looked confused. Apparently he had forgotten he was bringing
us wine for a girls’ night.

Finally getting
the hint, Doug also stood. “I’d better get going,” he said reluctantly.

Maryanne walked
him to the door. “Thanks again.” This time, she leaned forward to kiss him, on
the mouth. The last thing I saw as she shut the door was Doug’s big dopey grin.

I couldn’t help
but laugh.

“What?” she asked,
plopping down into the swivel chair.

“Nothing. I can
tell he’s really into you. It’s sweet. You should make him your boyfriend.” I
wasn’t really being serious. After two glasses of wine, picking on MA was kind
of fun.

“Please. I’m
young, I’m not making
anyone
my boyfriend.” Maryanne topped up both of
our wine glasses.

When the pizza
finally arrived, we were half drunk. “I’ll go get it,” I said. “You might be
compelled to flirt with the delivery boy, if he’s cute enough.” Maryanne threw
a pillow at me as I walked out of the dorm room.

Our room was on
the third floor of the dormitory. You needed a key card to get into the
building, so we always had to meet the delivery people outside.
I wonder how
Doug had an access card.
The dorm was all girls. Knowing Maryanne, she
probably bribed someone to get it for him.
Maybe she really is serious about
Doug.

I missed a step
and grabbed the railing to steady myself.
Yikes. I’m so tipsy.

The pizza man did
not look amused when I finally got to the door and painfully counted out my
money to pay him.
I should have let Maryanne do this.
He was old, bald
and short.

I had just turned
to go back inside when I thought I heard someone say my name. I hesitated.

“Lana?” This time
the voice was questioning. If I’d been sober, I would have just kept walking.
But curiosity and too much wine got the better of me.

I spun around,
grabbing the doorframe to steady myself.

“Dr. Reynolds?” I
asked. I squinted into the night, even though I have 20/20 vision.

“I thought that
was you.” Dr. Reynolds smiled.

Some girls were
trying to come inside the dorm, so I stepped outside to get out of their way.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I knew I sounded drunk, but there was no
way to mask it.

If Dr. Reynolds
noticed, he didn’t let on. “I’m looking for my niece, Becky Dunn. She lives in
this dorm. Do you know her?”

“No, the name
isn’t familiar,” I said. “You have a niece that’s in college?” I blurted out,
immediately regretting the question. I could feel my face go red and hoped he
wouldn’t notice in the darkness.

 He laughed.
“Yes, my
older
sister had a daughter when she was sixteen.”

“Oh,” I said
dumbly. “So how old are you?”
What the fuck are you doing, Lana?

“Ha, you don’t
beat around the bush, do you?” Dr. Reynolds looked amused.

“I - I’m sorry,” I
stuttered. “I’ve had a couple of drinks and forgotten my manners. Just ignore
me.” I turned to go back into the building.

“Wait. I’m just
teasing you. I’m twenty-nine.”

I swung back
around. “Really?” I asked in surprise.

“How old did you
think I was? Fifty? Seventy-five? It’s always nice to have a pretty girl tell
you that you look
much
older than your age.” Dr. Reynolds was still
smiling.

So this is
flirting. Dr. Reynolds is flirting with me.
It was the first time that I
could see why women liked this attention, and I wanted to embrace the moment,
but I didn’t know how.

“You don’t look
fifty,” I said lamely.

He laughed.
“That’s good to know.”

I held the pizza
box in front of my chest, acutely aware that I hadn’t put on a bra after my
shower. We stood there in silence, not quite making eye contact.

“So now it’s your
turn for a confession,” he finally said. “You already told me you’ve been
drinking. So how old are
you
?”

“Legal drinking age,”
I said, jutting my chin out defiantly.

“Okay, Lana,
whatever you say,” Dr. Reynolds replied, laughing. “You do realize I could
check your file at work?”