Authors: Suzanne McKenna Link
Oh, God. How do I answer this?
“I don’t know. I never
thought about it in terms of time.”
“If it feels right, you just do it?”
He didn’t get it, but I was concentrating on where his
thing
pushed into me, and trying so hard to be still, my brain was paralyzed. I could
barely manage a complete thought, let alone talk. I shook my head.
“No?” he asked. He stopped touching me and tilted his head
in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Our mismatch was rearing its ugly head. It was all so
ridiculous—my complete overwhelmed state, his expression, and our bumbling
miscommunication.
At the same time, I couldn’t help but find it humorous. I
giggled and bit my lip trying to suppress the embarrassment. “I can’t say.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
I took his confusion as opportunity to sit up and shift so I
could see his face. I wanted to observe his expression when I clarified my
answer.
“As you probably know, I’ve always been very focused on
school,” I said, carefully picking through my words. He waited patiently, so I
continued. “In high school, dating took a back seat to schoolwork. And now,
with my heavy course load of health classes, it’s been even less important to
me.
So
,” I took a breath and willed myself to finish it up, “as you
might imagine, I don’t have a lot of experience racked up in my
sexual
repertoire
.”
His eyes did a little whirligig thing, spinning around. “You’re
a …
virgin
?”
He spoke as if we were talking about a mythical entity like
Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster.
I looked down at my fingers, puckered my lips, and nodded.
“Holy shit!” He pressed his hands atop his head as if I’d
told him some earth-shattering news. My face, I’m sure, was crimson.
And then he had the nerve to laugh.
I shoved his arm. “It’s not funny!”
He rubbed his hand over his face and blinked his eyes. “I’m
sorry. I don’t actually think it’s funny, but it never occurred to me that
you’d never been with someone. I suppose that’s nice…”
“
Nice
?” I snapped. “It’s discerning, selective.
Moral.”
Toby blew out and slowly sat up next to me, his manner
suddenly subdued. “Does that mean you straight-out won’t have sex?”
Letting me consider my answer, he remained quiet.
Negotiating sex. Way, way, way out of my comfort zone. I didn’t expect to have
to deal with this
so
soon. Was this the ‘customary talk’ he had with
all
his girlfriends? Ugh, I was so out of my league.
“So,” he prompted. “What is it?”
I didn’t know. The answer didn’t seem so clear cut. Without
responding, I threw my hands up in the air. “This isn’t going to work.”
Humiliated, I stood and pulled out my car keys. The faster I
got out of there, the better.
“Hold up.” Toby snagged a belt loop on my jeans, and
unfolding himself from the couch, he hauled me against him. I held myself
stiffly in his arms. “Hey,” he said, raising my chin so I would look at him. “I
didn’t think you’d be someone who gave up so easily.”
“Because you expect me to be different than I am,” I
challenged.
His eyes traveled over my face. “I did. But you are way more
than I expected. Virginal you—you who laughs at all my jokes, makes me quit
smoking, forces me think about college classes, and for the first time, makes
me happy to be home. Claudia Chiametti. You. Are. Perfect.”
“Yeah, right. Virginity is a dirty word to you.”
He shook his head. “No, I actually like that no one has ever
touched you before. I’m not saying we have to get busy, like, tomorrow or
anything. I only want to know you’d consider it.” Lowering his chin, he gave me
a hopeful look.
Leaning away, I crossed my arms. “What if I say no?”
“I won’t lie, I’d be disappointed.” He tugged at my arms
until I allowed him to place them around his neck. “But, I would try
very
hard
to make you change your mind.”
I glanced up into his eyes. “That kind of relationship would
be a big deal to me.”
He lowered his mouth to my ear. “Just say that it’s a
possibility, if it feels right.” His whispered words tickled my ear.
Sex was probably something he excelled at. With his slow
kisses and practiced touch, I was sure that if I wasn’t careful, I might be
persuaded into something I’d regret.
I would need to keep my head.
“A ‘maybe’ will have to suffice,” I said, at last. “But
you’d better not push it.”
He rubbed slow circles over my lower back. “When the time
comes, I won’t need to.”
“You are so unbelievably sure of yourself.”
“Trust me, with sex,” he murmured, “confidence makes a
difference.”
“You sure talk about
it
a lot.”
“And, you keep listening.”
I flushed. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure why.”
“Because you’re interested, as you’re supposed to be. It’s
only natural.” He looked into my eyes, all serious. “Since this is new to you,
anytime you feel like grabbing me and experimenting, you go right ahead.”
I snorted. “You offering to be my tutor?”
“Yeah,” he grinned. “I’ll show you everything you need to
know. My body can be your learning tool.”
“How charitable of you.” I rolled my eyes for the thousandth
time, hardly believing I, of all people, was having a conversation about sex. I
laughed at the absurdity of it.
“We’re going to be good together, Claude,” he said. “I make
the serious girl laugh, and you make the bad boy behave.”
“Oh, yes, we’re quite the quintessential, complementary
couple,” I teased, but then, on a more serious note, I added, “You know, you’ll
have to meet my dad. You prepared for that?”
He groaned. “Do I have to?”
“Of course. This girl comes with her own personal security
service, and if you want to continue seeing her, such formalities apply.”
“Is that in the virgin girlfriend handbook?”
“Virgin humor, not funny.”
“Okay,” his expression gentled. “How about I work something
out with my aunt so I can take you out next Saturday. I’ll pick you up and meet
your dad. Do the date thing.”
“That would be terrific,” I said. And I really meant it.
The next day, I slept later than normal. I was sure Dad had
gone to church without me, but when I did finally make it down the stairs to
the kitchen, he was sitting with his coffee and the Sunday paper at the kitchen
table.
I poured myself a cup and leaned against the counter. He
peered over the edge to the newspaper. We were at ground zero.
“So you were over the Fayes' last night?” he asked.
He already knew the answer, but I nodded anyway.
“Mrs. Faye told me you came over looking for me. I wish you
hadn’t done that.”
“I was concerned for you.”
“Dad, I’m one of the most responsible twenty-year-olds
you’ll ever know. I don’t go around doing crazy things.”
“You don’t? Explain this whole USC debacle to me then.”
I flinched at his choice of adjectives. “I want to go to
USC.” I bowed my head. “I mean, it was my hope to go.”
“To be with your mother?” he accused.
“That’s part of it. But mostly I want to go away to school,
to live somewhere else.” I found a cuticle on my middle finger and began
rubbing at it with my thumb, anxious to bite it off. “Mom and I figured USC was
a good choice because it’s so close to her.”
“You know, it was her decision to leave New York. You
shouldn’t be so quick to run off and satisfy her need to make up for it,” he
said sharply.
And here we go again.
“Dad, this is not a war. No one is against anyone. Mom
insisted that I talk to you about this, but …”
“You didn’t,” he finished, with a little more anger in his
voice.
“Is it any wonder? You always react like this.”
“That’s no excuse, Claudia,” he said. “If you’re not mature
enough to face a difficult conversation with me, how can you think you can
manage life on your own?”
That stung, but he was right. Like a baby, tears filled my
eyes. I couldn’t even finish the conversation without crying. I wiped furiously
at my tears, vowing to work on toughening myself up.
“You have two more years. You’ll graduate from Stony Brook.”
From his tone, it was clear I was not to defy him.
I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.” I
wanted to raise my head and proudly declare that I didn’t care what he said,
but the scowl that had so long intimidated me appeared as though on cue.
“One day you’ll be married, and you’ll be free to do as you
please. For now, while you’re under my roof, you’ll do as I tell you.”
I stood up shakily, feeling my legs wobble underneath me.
“I’ll get financial aid if I have to, but I’m going to keep applying to other
colleges.”
“I see. You be sure to let me know how that works out for
you,” my father said before turning back to his newspaper.
Don’t you cry! I chastised myself. I turned on heel and flew
up to my room.
God, my father was insufferable. How was I supposed to bring
Toby into the house to meet him? I considered possible ways around it for a few
moments. Finally, I thought, no, I was going to do this right. Even though it
might not bring me any closer to proving to my father that I was well-informed
and mature enough to make sensible choices, it would prove that I wasn’t
afraid. If even just to myself.
I logged onto my computer, pulled up the Internet, and typed
gerontology majors into the search field. I would find another college that
would fit my needs. One away from here.
Far away.
Oh, fuck! He has my arms pinned to my sides. I kick to get
away, but he is too strong. I cannot escape.
“No!” I yell, but the pain explodes through me. It’s so hot.
I’m burning up. I grit my teeth.
You won’t make me cry.
Suddenly, I am
free and I am running, running, running. Ripping shards of pain pulse through
my shoulder, but still, I run.
I bolted upright. My heart was pumping so hard, like it was
going to burst out of my ribcage. Goddammit! It was just a nightmare. I pressed
the heels of my palms into my eyes and groaned. Slowly, I dragged myself out of
bed and went into Al’s old room.
It hadn’t changed much since the day he’d last been there or
the day I’d dreamt about, many years back. His furniture and most of his
clothes were still there.
Back when I was about eleven years old, if anyone had asked
me, I would have said, without any hesitation, that I was going to play pro
ball one day. Baseball had been everything to me, but I had decided one day that
I didn’t want to play anymore. Julia never understood why.
I never told her it was because of what happened when my
father had bought me a new mitt that season. It wasn’t my birthday or anything,
but he came home and handed it to me. He even came outside and had a catch with
me. That one day he was a regular dad, just like everyone else’s.
The folks had me registered in Little League, and, just
before practice one day, I couldn’t find the mitt. I was freaking out, tossing
my room when Big Al came in. I remember telling him, my voice shaking, that my
mitt was gone. I was afraid he was going to punish me, but he just spun around
and marched off to my brother’s room. I heard him yelling, and then, a scuffle
with some grunts and thuds. Moments later, he came back and tossed the mitt to
me.
“Go play,” he ordered.
I passed Al’s room on the way out, daring to look at him.
His eyes were so dark with hate, I could still remember them clearly. I knew he
was pissed that he’d been beaten for taking the mitt. I remember feeling bad
about the way my father had come down on him, but the mitt was mine. He had
stolen it. I slunk out and went to play ball.
When I came home later, I found the shoebox I kept my
baseball cards in, on my bed. I hadn’t left it out, so I knew immediately
something was wrong. I rushed to open the box, fearing the worst.
Eight cards, my most valued ones—the Yankees’ starting
lineup—ripped in two. I had traded, bought, and spent all my money to complete
that year’s Yankee team, and now the hardest ones to get were destroyed.
I ran to Al’s room with the box. He was sitting on his bed,
smoking a cigarette. He laughed in my face, so I threw the box at him as hard
as I could. Cards flew everywhere.
He jumped up and grabbed me into a headlock.
“Fucker, let go of me,” I growled. He only exhaled a plume
of smoke and lowered his cigarette to my shoulder. It’s hard to forget the feel
of my skin melting. I gritted through the pain even as tears came to my eyes.
When he was done, he shoved me outside his room.
I ran. From the house, down the block, to the wooded area
south of the soccer fields. Lots of derelicts and stews hung out there,
including Devlin Van Sloot. I don’t know how it started, but we got into a
fistfight. He bloodied my nose. I was aching afterwards, but I felt better,
calmer. When I got home, I covered the painful circular welt on my shoulder and
told my parents I wanted to quit Little League.
I reached up to touch the scar on my shoulder. The scar
itself I had covered with the tattoo. I admired the art in the dresser mirror.
The tat artist had done a good job masking it. No one noticed that the one
wrinkly bolt in my realistic armor tattoo was a cigarette burn.
On my way out of the room, I saw a picture of Felicia on the
dresser. After my talk with Claudia, I’d kept my promise to email Felicia about
bringing little Dylan up to meet Julia. I checked my email to see if she
replied.
I was psyched to find that Julia was not only up, but she
was dressed and insisted on coming down the stairs herself.
In the kitchen I set about making her my famous, ‘garbage
pail’ omelet—anything I could find in the refrigerator that could conceivably
be mixed with eggs.
When I sat down to eat it with her, she reached up to look
at the cut on my forehead.
“It looks better today, but you should be more careful.”
I gently nudged her hand away. Yesterday I’d told her I’d
hit my head at work. She believed me. She always did.
Her appetite was decent, another positive sign. She’d
finished her chemo and had just one more round of radiation to get through.
“How did your movie night go?” Julia asked.
“It was pretty great. Except for the part where Claudia got
on me about Al Junior.”
Julia smiled guiltily. “I’m sorry. She looked so defeated
about not going to USC, I decided she needed something else to concentrate on,”
she said. “I thought maybe she could talk some sense into that thick head of
yours.”
I wanted to tell her it was only thick from all the bashings
I’d taken. I’d never told her. I thought I never would.
“Listen,” I said instead, moving past it, “I sent Felicia a
message about coming up with Dylan to visit with us. She said yes, and we’re
trying to figure out a date.”
“Really? Oh, honey, that’s wonderful!” Julia clapped her
hands like a little girl.
“I’d like to take the credit, but it was Claudia’s idea.”
“I never thought to ask. I didn’t think she’d come,” Julia
said. “Maybe she agreed because you asked. You and Felicia always got along
well.”
“Whatever the reason, she wants you to meet Dylan. We all
do.”
“Thank you. I’m so excited,” Julia said, and grabbed hold of
my hand. “Maybe she’ll visit your brother, too.”
“Mom, stop pushing. It might set some people off,” I warned.
“You’re brother made mistakes, but that doesn’t mean he’s
not to be forgiven,” she said. “He’s changed. Things are different for him
now.”
“Oh, I imagine they are.” Being surrounded by violent
psychopaths who literally wanted your ass probably made things very different.
I changed the subject. “Hey, in case you’re interested in
knowing, Claudia and I hooked up.”
She took the bait. “What?”
“Yeah, she’s in love with me. She’s all, ‘Oh, Toby, I want
you to be my baby daddy,’ but I told her I’m not that kind of guy. I want my
kids to be legit. So we’re gonna fly to Vegas and get married by an Elvis
impersonator.”
Julia burst out laughing. “Wow, and this all came about last
night?”
“What can I say? The girl digs me.”
“Well, I love Elvis, and my schedule is free. When do we
leave?”
I laughed. She was feeling better. “Alright, there’s no
Elvis… or wedding, but I guess you’re okay if I go out with Claudia?”
“If I had to pick someone for you, well, I think she’s a
wonderful girl. She’s sweet, she’s got her act together, and I simply adore
her,” Julia gushed.
“You forgot to mention, she’s beautiful and smart.”
Julia sat forward. “Are you going to ask her out?”
“It’s a done deal. We’re going out next Saturday.”
Her eyes opened wider. “Oh! Take her some place nice.”
“I was thinking that café place on Main Street,” I said.
“That’s a good place. Oh, Marie mentioned there’s going to
be a concert in the park that night. You should look into it,” she added. “Try
to make a good impression—wear something nice. No jeans and absolutely no tee
shirts.” She wagged her finger at me. “And bring her some flowers. She likes
flowers.”
I laughed. “Have you been stockpiling tips in hopes we’d hit
it off?”
“I got the impression, quite early on, that you liked our
Claudia. I only hoped she felt the same.”
What could I say? I couldn’t hide anything from her.
When I didn’t respond, Julia tilted her head. “Well, look at
you! You’re speechless,” she giggled. “You must like her a lot.”
My neck felt prickly, and I tugged at my shirt collar.
“I don’t know where this is going to go. I’m probably in
over my head.” I played with the spoon next to my mug, suddenly not able to be
still. “I have to go over and meet her father before I take her out Saturday.
More than likely, I’ll mess that up.”
Julia’s lips tightened. Claudia had said he’d been to see
her. For a tense moment, I wondered if Mr. Chiametti had said something to her,
but then, I realized she was worried about me meeting him, too. My mother knew
this wasn’t going to be easy for me.
“Mr. Chiametti is a stern man, but only because he wants the
best for Claudia. You’ll be fine. Remember, be polite. Shake his hand. Call him
sir.”
“He’s going to hate me. I mean, I’m not bringing much to the
table. She’s the one who has it all together,” I unleashed my biggest fear to
Julia. “I’m not sure I can pull this off.”
“Toby, you can do this, and you will,” she said firmly, and
she touched my face. “Life is throwing you an opportunity with a special young
lady. You need to reach out and grab onto it, with both hands.” Leaning back,
she pointed a finger at me. “That said, you treat her like a lady and be
respectful. Then her father will see what a good boy you are.” She beamed, and
her voice softened. “No. He’ll see the good
man
you are.”
I was amazed at her faith. I shook my head and got up to
stack the breakfast dishes.
“Thanks, Ma,” I said and smiled. “But I am not going to her
house carrying flowers.”
“Alright,” she said. “How about balloons or candy?”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“What?” she asked. “Is that frowned upon these days?”
“In this century, all we bring on a date is a cell phone,
credit card, and condoms.”
“Tobias Michael Faye! You’re not too old to be spanked.”
I couldn’t breathe I was laughing so hard. She swatted my
leg, and though it didn’t hurt, I said, “Ouch,” just to satisfy her.
“Behave yourself,” she warned, but her stern face kept
slipping. A smile lay underneath.
“Yes, Mother,” I said leaning over to give her a hug. She
touched my hair and pressed her head against mine.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Closing my eyes, I nodded. “I know.”
Releasing her, I brought the dishes to the sink. Julia was
being all pushy about this date. She only got like that when she really wanted
something for me. I didn’t usually talk to Julia about girls; I could see she
really wanted Claudia and me to work out.
So did I.
To break the tension, I said, “I’m going to try to do
something with the hedges out in front of the house. They look bad.”
Her face brightened.
I pulled out the hedge trimmer and some yard tools and
thought about meeting Claudia’s father for the first time.
Part of me wished Claudia was like other girls who didn’t
need to have me meet their parents. She was different, so principled about
stuff. Strange, but I kind of liked that about her.
Talk about principled! Still a virgin. Christ, I’d been
dreaming of getting into a body tangle with her for half my twenty-one years.
No need for Trojans on our dates. At least for now. But, I was sure of one
thing: I would be her first. Until then, there were many other, interesting
things we could do.
As I trimmed the hedges, I imagined how happy Claudia
would
be when she saw it. Then, I laughed at myself. All for a girl. It was as if she
had punched holes in my world, and all the bad stuff that had happened and the
crap that I’d done in the past were being filtered out. I already felt different.
I was on a new path. Maybe she was what I’d been searching for—the piece that
would finally make it all come together for me.