I Know It's Over (11 page)

She was so beautiful naked that it almost hurt to look at her. Sometimes I’d watch myself touch her, as though I was standing over my own shoulder, and hardly believe I was allowed to do those things with her. Sometimes I felt so lucky that the feeling almost made me sick. Then I’d wonder if it was because those moments alone never lasted long enough, if it was like having a drop of water when you were dying of thirst.

Maybe I wouldn’t feel so crazy if I could have more, but there was no way to work that out. Normal life swallowed up most of my time and those days with Nathan took an even bigger chunk. Sasha and I talked on the phone, IMed, and saw each other whenever we could, usually in the presence of family or friends. One time Nathan’s dad let him borrow the car and five of us (Sasha, Lindsay, Yasmin, Nathan, and I) went bowling. Yasmin talked too loudly and Lindsay kept ushering Sasha away to discuss some secret crush, but it was still a pretty good night. Everything was pretty okay at the time, except that I was still crazy.

When Sasha stood by my desk at the end of a Wednesday afternoon law class and asked if she could come over for a while, I beamed at her like a toothpaste commercial. We rushed back to my house after school and headed straight for my bedroom. Holland came home five minutes later and blasted Metric through her speakers. The music was so loud that she’d probably never even discover we were next door, but I got up, banged on her door, and told her to leave us alone, just in case. She was used to me doing that by then and she just nodded, moving her head in time to the music.

Sasha and I started peeling off each other’s clothes. She was wearing this preppy white V-neck with a blue collar and she had blue bikini briefs on under her pants. I was already poking out of my unzipped jeans and she slid her hand into my boxers and said, “When was this last time we did this? It feels like so long ago.”

“Nine days,” I said, adding it up in my head as I pulled down her underwear. “Way too long.”

Sasha smiled and pulled me nearer. “I missed it too.”

I felt so close to her that afternoon on my bed, closer than I’d ever felt before. Everything was right between us. I wanted her so much that I couldn’t stop shaking and I knew we could end that feeling without the whole thing, like we’d done before, but I didn’t want to. “I have condoms in the closet,” I said softly, running my fingers over her nipples. “Do you want to try?”

Sasha’s eyes opened wide. It was bright in my room and her pupils were tiny. “You know when I do that, it’ll be with you.”

“I know. I just want you so bad. I think about you all the time.” I rested my right hand along her rib cage, my chest tight. “Not just sexually. I think about you all the time, you know? I think I’m going crazy.”

Sasha laughed gently. She reached up and threaded her fingers through my hair. “If that’s going crazy, then I’m crazy too.” She sat up and slipped her tongue into my mouth. I thought that was the end of it, but she put her hand on my chest and stopped kissing me. “Okay,” she said. “Get them.”

I got up and stepped towards the closet, trying not to look shocked. I guess I never thought she’d actually say yes, not for months and months, maybe longer. I tore the package open as I walked back to the bed and was about to turn away again when it occurred to me that if we were going to do it, I shouldn’t be shy about putting the condom on.

Sasha watched me do it. She lay back and spread her legs and I positioned myself between them, wishing that I’d done it with Dani so I wouldn’t feel so nervous.

I pushed slowly into her. It wasn’t easy. She was really tight down there. She gasped under her breath and I looked into her eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” She had that concentration look on her face, almost like a frown.

I pushed in deeper, still feeling her frown up at me. Then I started moving, as gently as I could, but I couldn’t enjoy it. “I’m hurting you,” I said.

“Keep going,” she told me, her voice like cut glass.

So I kept going, but it didn’t get any better. I felt like I was torturing her and that stepped up the pressure to finish. But I couldn’t. Not with her looking at me like that. Everyone knows the first time usually isn’t any good for a girl, but I thought it would be okay for me. The truth is I didn’t even get off. In the end I just stopped. My hard-on disappeared the moment it hit the air and I pulled off the condom and stared down at Sasha.

Music was still booming through the wall and I felt empty. I grabbed my clothes from the floor and began putting them back on. Sasha didn’t move. “You know you should’ve told me if you didn’t really want to do it,” I said.

“What’re you talking about?” Sasha’s face went blank. It was like I didn’t even know her. She could’ve been practically anyone.

“You were just lying there the entire time. You looked like you hated it.”

“What did you expect?” she cried. “It was my first time.”

“Yeah,” I said, “and you were so obviously not into it. It ruined it.”

Sasha sat up in bed and then I noticed it—a spot of blood on my striped sheets. My chest tightened again. I pointed down and said, “Do you want me to get you something?”

Sasha peered down at the spot. I thought she was going to tell me what an asshole I was being, but she mumbled, “I guess you better.”

I grabbed one of Holland’s pads from the bathroom and handed it to Sasha. She had her clothes on by then and she brushed past me and into the bathroom. I closed the door behind her and sat on the edge of the bed, hating myself.

She gazed down at me as she swept back into the room, that blank expression hiding whatever she was feeling. I should’ve apologized right then, but I couldn’t do it; I could barely look at her. “I better go,” she said dully. “Your mom will be home soon.”

“Do you want me to walk you?” I asked, although it was the last thing I wanted to do.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s still light out.”

“Okay.” I walked her to the front door. It killed me to do it. Sometimes I think something must be really wrong with me. It shouldn’t be that hard to apologize when you know you’re wrong. But I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I thought I’d feel better if Sasha wasn’t standing there next to me.

I did one thing right. I put my hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead before she left. Then I went upstairs, pulled the bottom sheet off my bed, and washed the blood off in the bathroom sink. I threw the wet sheet into the back of my closet and grabbed a new one from the hall closet. I felt like a complete fugitive doing it; I was convinced Holland would bound into the hall and give me the third degree, but she never left her room.

I didn’t know what to do with myself after that. I went downstairs and flipped through zillions of TV channels. My stomach growled, but I wasn’t remotely hungry. I kept my hand on the remote.
Judge Judy, Dr. Phil,
and an ancient
Sabrina, the Teenage Witch
repeat flickered before my eyes. It was enough to make anyone sick.

Finally I grabbed the phone and called Keelor. “Hey,” he said. “What’s up?” His voice sounded the same as always and that was exactly what I needed.

“Bored,” I told him. “I’m on my way over.”

“Cool. We can watch the game.” Right, the Leafs were playing the New York Rangers at seven. It’d slipped my mind somewhere between losing my virginity and walking my girlfriend to the door.

I wrote a note to Mom, stuck it on the kitchen table, and bladed over to Keelor’s house. His dad answered the door and sent me straight up to Keelor’s room. He hadn’t been quite as friendly lately and I wondered if it had something to do with Keelor’s weed. Actually, I really could’ve used some just then. I seriously needed to unwind.

“Does your dad think I’m your dealer or something?” I joked.

“It’s not you,” Keelor assured me. “He’s still pissed with me. He thinks I’m two steps away from being a crack addict.” If you knew Keelor like I did, you’d realize how messed up that thinking was. Keelor liked to keep his head on fairly straight. We both stuck to weed and alcohol. “Do you mind if we watch the game up here? I’m trying to keep a low profile around the house.”

“Sure.” We grabbed pizza slices from Gino’s across the street and settled into his beanbag chairs to watch the game.

His dad knocked at the door just before the start of the game. “Are you two coming down to watch on the plasma?” he asked. The 46 inch down in the basement was reserved for hockey during the season. Keelor’s entire family were big fans. His mom shouted louder than his dad during the games and his twelve-year-old brother played defense for the Pee Wee league.

I shrugged, letting Keelor know that it was up to him. “Yeah, all right,” he said.

It should’ve been a tense first period. The Leafs’ first-string goalie was out with a knee injury, but their backup kept them knotted at 0–0 despite being outshot ten to three. Keelor’s mom thought she was in the stands. She screeched encouragement at the screen, giving me a massive headache. Normally her enthusiasm wouldn’t bother me, but I was having trouble concentrating. Sasha kept jumping into my head, looking at me like I was a stranger. I could barely keep up with the game.

During the intermission I broke down and told Keelor I needed a few minutes to make a call. “Did you two have a fight or something?” he asked, sizing the situation up in a heartbeat.

“Something like that,” I replied, and bolted up to his room.

I tried Sasha’s cell first, but it was no surprise when she didn’t answer. I took a deep breath and dialed her parents’ number. Mrs. Jasinski picked up and went to get Sasha. A few seconds later she was back on the line saying, “Nick, she’s just started her homework. Can she call you back later?”

“Sure,” I said anxiously. I hadn’t expected Sasha to talk to me in the first place, but it still felt like a shock. I started to explain that I wasn’t at home, but Sasha could get me on my cell.

“All right, then,” her mother said. “Maybe you’ll hear from her later.”

Maybe later.
Just like that.
Maybe later or maybe not.
Would you talk to someone who didn’t even walk you home afterwards? What the fuck was I thinking?

I went down to the basement and told Keelor I had to go.

He stood up, tapped my arm, and led me out of the room. “She’ll wait, Nick. Relax. Stay and watch the game.”

“No.” I’d already made up my mind. “I have to talk to her tonight.”

Keelor leaned back against the wall and sighed like I was a lost cause. “You’re really letting this girl get to you, man. Don’t you see it? It’s too much, Nick. You’re not married, you know. You can watch a game once in a while.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I was getting worked up and I didn’t want to. I needed to be calm when I talked to Sasha. “I barely even see her outside school.”

“Yeah, but look at you. You’re acting like it’s the end of the world here. Everybody fights, Nick, but you gotta stay cool.”

“Why?” I folded my arms in front of me. “Why do I have to stay cool? You think it’s better not to give a shit about anything?”

“Who says I don’t give a shit about anything?” he said loudly. “I’m only saying this because it’s you and I don’t like to see you in knots. You’ve been different ever since you started seeing Sasha. It’s like you’re someone else.”

“I’m not someone else,” I protested. “This is me.” I unfolded my arms and lowered my voice. “I know you don’t like her, but I do.”

Keelor pushed off the wall, frustration in his eyes. “It doesn’t have anything to do with me not liking her. I just think maybe you like her a little too much.”

Or maybe I was just doing a shitty job of handling it. “I have to go.”

“Okay,” Keelor said. “Come back if it doesn’t work out—or if it does or whatever. We can talk about it.” He jutted out his chin as he smiled. “Nathan doesn’t have the market cornered on that, you know.”

I thanked him and bladed over to Sasha’s house, my stomach stuck in my throat the entire time. It would’ve been so much easier to apologize when I’d had the chance.

Sasha’s mom answered the front door. “Nick, you’re persistent,” she declared, obviously surprised to see me.

“I won’t stay long,” I promised. “I just need to talk to Sasha for a minute.”

Mrs. Jasinski glanced hesitantly over her shoulder. “Wait there.” She disappeared into the house and I overheard her say: “He seems upset. Are you two fighting?”

Sasha whispered something back. Fifteen paralyzing seconds later she came to the door. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a black sweatshirt. “This isn’t good, Nick,” she said under her breath. “My mom is asking questions.”

“Sorry,” I told her. “Can I come in?”

“I’m busy now,” she said. She smelled like watermelon and I thought about her coming home and taking a shower. I wondered if she was still bleeding.

“Just for a few minutes? I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t talk to you.” Sasha shrugged like that wouldn’t bother her. “Are you okay?” I continued. “I mean, at my house you were—”

“Actually, I feel like shit.” She said that so coldly that I actually shivered.

“Me too. Are you going to let me in?”

“I don’t want to talk,” she said. “Do you still want to come in?”

“I still want to come in.”

We walked through the hallway and into the empty kitchen. I was so grateful to be inside her house that it made me nauseous. Sasha pulled a chair away from the table and sat down, scratching at her plaid-covered legs. I sat next to her, sweat pooling at the back of my neck as I whispered, “Sasha, I’m really sorry.”

“You’re sorry now?” she said, her face blank. “That doesn’t make any sense, Nick.”

“Yeah, I know.” I touched her arm. “But I am. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Can we go outside?” I motioned to the sliding door.

Sasha shrugged and slid the door open. Her parents would really wonder now, but I couldn’t worry about that; I had to talk to her in private.

We stood outside, staring wordlessly in at the warm glow of the kitchen. “That was so shitty, you have no idea,” she said finally, her cheeks puffing out. “And then you let me leave like it was nothing to you.” I winced and kept listening. “I ruined it. That’s what you said.”