by Jade Eby
I groan and put my hands on his chest.
"That's so not fair. You know that's my spot."
He grins. "Why do you think I do it?"
I nuzzle into the crook of his neck. "We could…"
He kisses the top of my head and clears his throat. "Not yet."
"Are you sure? If this is about me being ready, I am. I just —"
"Tawny, stop. It's not about you. Slow, okay?" Carter grabs my hands in his and rubs circles into my skin with his thumb.
Chalk this up to another way he's unlike any other guy I've ever known. What sixteen year old boy doesn't want to bang his girlfriend at the first opportunity? I know he cares about me and he wants to make sure I'm ready but I've never been more ready. It's not my first time - I fucked that up last year with an asshole in Colorado. But with Carter? I know that's how it's really supposed to go.
Sometimes, he has this quiet way about him, like he has to watch every word that drops from his lips, every move that he makes. Everything is calculated, thought about before he does it. Does he think I'm not worth the fuck? Is he worried that having sex will make it all real and he'll have to admit it to his buddies?
He must sense my anxieties. He wraps his arms around me, leans down and plants kisses all over my face. "Stop worrying. Soon, Tawny. And it will be so good, you'll be glad we waited."
And with that we settle back into the couch. He focuses completely on the movie but I can't help the lingering doubts. The tingles of desire that coat my veins. The fire in my belly flickers and eventually fizzles out but there's a part of me that wonders what he would have done if I'd pushed him harder. If I'd begged him to fuck me.
Maybe that gives stock to what girls like Bridget say about me. That I'm a slut. A whore. But I can't think of a better way to show Carter how much his love has changed me. Given me hope for a better life. The minute I decided to let him into my world was the minute I knew I wanted to be engrained into every part of him. Heart, body and soul. I want all of him, always.
I snuggle in close to him, the snow falling outside the window, painting our small town in a winter wonderland. I've never felt as warm as I do when I'm wrapped up in his arms, safe from everything that has ever hurt me.
March - 1999
In a rare occurrence, my mother is sober tonight. Of all the things she could be doing with her sober time, she's bugging me about having Carter over for dinner. The whole thing is laughable. It would be a complete and utter disaster.
"Not happening, Mom," I say, pouring myself a glass of milk. That I bought. Because there's never anything in this fucking house.
She squeezes her eyes shut like a child about ready to burst out in tantrum. "Why not? You have been dating him long enough to have him over. It's time your momma meets the boy that stole my daughter's heart, don't you think?"
I bite back the nastier words I want to say and instead tell her, "He's been over plenty of times. You're usually gone or too wasted to notice. And don't say momma. It's weird and annoying. You've never been momma to me."
Her playful smile drops into a frown. She comes into the kitchen, wraps her arms around my waist. "You don't have to be a bitch about it, Tawny. Is it so terrible that I'm trying to make an effort here? I'm serious. I want to meet him. I've been thinking about things, and it's time to turn my life around, honey. I've been so horrible and I —"
I hold up a hand and pull away from her. I've heard the whole "I'm gonna get sober" speech a hundred times. I know this time isn't any different. But her damn pleading is like watching a child ask for a cookie. You give in, just to get them to shut up.
"I'll ask him, okay? He might be busy working at the gas station or something."
Her face lights up like Christmas has come three months late. "Oh honey, thank you! How about Thursday? I'll put in a pot roast and everything. It's going to be great."
I don't have the heart to tell her it probably won't happen. I don't even know if I'll risk asking him. I know how he feels about my parents. But her face is so endearing - so excited - I might try. Just this once.
"Dad won't be there will he?"
She shakes her head and looks down at her feet.
"Let me guess, he had to go out of town on business?" I ask. Out of town on business is the nice way of saying he had to go outside of Apollo to find odd jobs to get money, just to spend it on booze or drugs or hookers. Lord knows he never puts it into the things he should - the trailer, a working vehicle, my lunch fund. Carter's been splitting his lunch with me every day for the last couple months. He does it without complaining even though he could probably eat three or four lunches to fill his never ending pit of a stomach.
"You know he's been trying to be better too. He called me yesterday. Said he found a really great opportunity in Demuth. Lumberyard or something like that," she says, her face radiating genuine belief. Dear God, what happened to this woman?
"Oh yeah? That's great. Maybe he'll bring enough back with him to actually feed us for once. Wouldn't that be great?"
"Tawny Renee Owens. That's enough of —"
"Don't pull that mothering shit on me. I'm a little too old for it."
She stares at me, and it's the first time I'm seeing how my mother's habits have taken a toll on her. She used to be pretty once. When I was a little girl, she curled her hair and put on makeup. She looked so… normal. She had this light airy way about her. She'd walk around gracefully, like she floated. She sang and danced around our first trailer with a happiness I've never seen since. Now, her crows feet are defined, her skin a gray color. Pock marks dot her cheeks. She's turned into one of those women from the drug posters plastered over the school walls.
No wonder the kids at school give me shit. I would too if she weren't my mom. Because at the end of the day, no matter how poorly she's done, no matter how shitty she is, she's still my mother. The only one I have, and I guess it's better than nothing.
* * *
Carter and I sit in his parked Jeep outside of my trailer. I don't think our conversation is what he'd planned when he said he wanted to see me.
"Do I have to? I mean, do you really think she'll be able to stay sober long enough to actually make a meal?"
I shrug. "She seemed really sincere. I think she may be changing. You should have seen her face when I told her I'd ask you. She was so excited."
"She sees me all the time, she just never remembers it. Does she even know what I really look like? It doesn't matter, actually. I think it's a recipe for disaster. I don't want her to upset you."
"Don't worry. I'll be fine. Just do it for me. Please."
He sighs but I know he will agree to it. He loves when I ask him nicely for things. When he feels like I need him. And truthfully, I need him more than ever when it comes to my parents. He's been my rock these last few months and I don't know what I'd do without him.
I snake my arm underneath his and interlock our fingers. "I love you, Carter Brooks. You don't know how much this will mean to her."
He smiles and kisses me on the forehead. "I know. I'm pretty awesome. I gotta go. See you Thursday night."
* * *
It's Thursday and my mom is a hot mess. The roast sits raw in the crockpot. She slurs her words as Carter tries to maneuver around her. He looks to me for help. I hold back the tears that have been threatening to fall since I came home a half hour ago to my mom passed out on the couch, a bottle of Scotch clutched in her hand. She'd done about half the prep work for dinner and apparently thought it was too much work and started drinking. I didn't even bother to be nice about it. Dumped a glass of water over her head. She screamed and called me a fucking bitch, but Carter was already on his way over and there was no dinner made and everything was a disaster, just like Carter knew it would be.
"Mrs. O, you should lay down. You look like you're gonna topple over."
She giggles - fucking giggles - and waves her hand. "Don't be silly. I'm fineeee. Tawny, dear, is the roast done?"
I clench my fists
together. "There is no fucking pot roast mom. You forgot to cook it, remember? Or were you so wasted you didn't even realize you put it in the crock pot in the first place? Jesus, I can't believe I agreed to this. Look at you."
She shakes a finger at me. "You ungrateful bitch. I put a roof over your head, give you food and you treat me like this in front of your boyfriend? You're just a little slut. He'll throw you away once he's done with you." She turns her attention to Carter. "I don't get what you see in her. She's not even… pretty. You can do so much better. You're such a handsome boy. You could be dating older women. Women with more —"
Carter grabs her arms and throws her to the couch with such force it shuts her right up. "Don't you ever talk to her like that again. You're drunk off your ass at the dinner you wanted her to invite me to. Don't you see how fucking wrong this is?"
I gasp, my feet cemented to the ground. Warm tears roll down my cheeks and I taste the salt as it reaches my lips.
Mom blubbers on the couch saying she can't believe he touched her like that and by God she'll press charges and I barely hear her because Carter rushes over to me and holds me in his arms, his hand rubbing my back. I sob into his chest. He was so angry. Threw her to that couch like she was a rag doll. I didn't know he could do that. But it was her fault.
No, no, no. It was my fault and he warned me about this. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I should've known. You were right. Oh, God. What was I thinking?"
He shushes me, and pulls me away from him so I can see his face. He wipes away the tears from my cheeks.
"Shh. It's okay. It's fine."
"But, she said —"
"She's drunk, Tawny. She won't even remember this in the morning. Let her sleep it off. We'll go get something to eat, okay?"
He's being so… calm. So rational, when all I want to do is scream at the top of my lungs that it's not fair. Why does everyone else get normal parents? Why do I have to come home to find this? Why does my boyfriend have to save me from my own mother? Her words sit at the base of my skull. Ungrateful bitch. Slut. Whore. Not even pretty.
I let the next wave of tears come and I fall to the grimy, cheap linoleum. I sob and heave until there's nothing left and then Carter picks me up with a strength that surprises me, again. He brings me to my bed, covers me up. Lays next me, his arms a safety net I so desperately wish I had all the time.
I close my eyes and pretend that this isn't my life. That I'm simply walking around in a nightmare that will be gone when I wake up tomorrow.
But that's not the reality I live in.
June - 1999
I'm going to blame the heat on how wild I feel today. It's a hundred degrees and Carter and I lay on the bed nearly naked. He has the rare day off of pumping gas, selling cigarettes and cheap booze. We were supposed to spend it at the waterpark but his brother's car was in the shop so of course he made him hand over his Jeep. As if it was his for the taking.
His brothers are such assholes. They look at me like I'm just a piece of ass Carter keeps around to fuck. Little do they know, it's been almost a year and we still haven't done it.
I'm starting to think maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I'm not attractive enough for him or he thinks I'm going to suck in the sack. It's definitely not that his dick doesn't work - I've done more than enough to him to know it works just fine.
He turns on his stomach and head butts my shoulder. "What are you thinking so hard about?"
"Do you really want to know?" I give him a sly smile¸ hoping he catches the drift.
"I always want to know."
I walk my finger over to him, slide them beneath his legs until I reach his dick. "That's what I'm thinking about."
He laughs, but it's hitched and awkward. What does he have to be so damn nervous about? "You're always thinking about that."
"And you aren't?" I say, pouting.
He turns over and his hard-on bulges against his boxers. "Of course I am. We've talked about this a million times. You know I —"
I kiss him without waiting for the rest of his sentence. I don't want to hear his excuses right now. I put everything I have into it. All my desire for him. The way the heat is driving me to do things I normally wouldn't do knowing his limits. Something about the way he looks against the filtered light, on my bed. It makes me want to take everything he can give me, and more.
When I pull back, he still has his eyes closed. I unclasp my bra and throw it to the floor. Sliding on top of him, I put both my hands in his and bring them up over his head.
"I love you, Carter. Let me show you how much."
He reaches his head up to kiss me, but I pull back. "Nope. Not until you say yes."
He groans. It totally ruins my sexy, romantic moment. I roll off of him and put my arm over my face so he can't see that I'm about ready to burst. How is it possible for him to make me feel a hundred emotions all at once? Love. Desire. Embarrassment. Why doesn't he want me the way I want him?
"Tawny… don't cry," he says, pulling on my arm.
I shake him off.
"C'mon, we were having a moment."
"I was having a moment," I say. "A moment you ruined. Why don't you want to have sex with me, Carter? Am I that repulsive? Every time I get naked around you, it's like you want me to put my clothes back on. Are you gay?"
I turn my head to look at him and his jaw is clenched tight. He's getting pissed.
Good.
Maybe he will know how it feels to be me.
"You know I'm not gay. And I'm not repulsed by you."
"Then, why? Why won't you just fuck me already?"
He sighs. "I never have."
I don't think I heard him right. It sounded like he said he never has. Never has what? Fucked me? I know this.
"What?"
"I've never done it."
I flip over so we're face to face. His cheeks are red and I don't think it's from the heat. I'm a giant asshole.
"Seriously? Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"
"So you could think I was a fucking loser? It's not like it's something I want to parade around."
"No one's asking you to parade it around. But I'm your girlfriend. You should have told me. I wouldn't have pushed you so hard."
He laughs meanly. "Jesus Christ. Was it your intention to make me feel like less than a man. Because congrats, job well done."
I reach for his hand but he pulls it away. "Carter… I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. I just… didn't know."
Honestly, it's hard for me to believe. I can't believe a guy like him would have waited. I mean, there's this whole part of him that I haven't been able to reach, to understand and maybe this is part of it. I just assumed that he'd already lost his virginity to someone prettier, smarter and way better in bed than me.
We lay there for a few seconds in silence. I search his face for answers. Does he hate me now? For making him feel bad?
"We don't have to do it," I say, softly.
"What about you? You've obviously done it before. Isn't that why Bridget always calls you a slut?"
His words are a slap to my face. I recoil, the sting of the words biting at the part of me that cares what he thinks of me.
"I can't believe you — "
"Well? If it's not true, then tell me. How many guys have you been with?"
"Is it that important? If you'd been with other girls, it wouldn't bother me."
He laughs. "Of course it wouldn't matter to you."
"What's that supposed to mean? I love you, Carter. I'm not sleeping with other people. The only person I want to fuck - is you."
"Just answer the question, Tawny."
He's never been this mean before. He's always careful with his words. Has never made me feel like less of a person because of my past. Why now?
"Two, okay? I've been with two other guys. They were insignificant. Meant nothing to me. You're the only one that means something. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
He punches the pillow. "Fuck. No. D
o you think I want to hear that my girlfriend has already been… fucked? With guys she didn't even care about? Do you think that makes me feel better?"
I can't believe what I'm hearing. What's even happening? We were having a sweet moment. And then it all went to hell. I don't have to put up with this.
Sitting up, I look for where I threw my bra. I slide toward the end of the bed, but Carter grips my arm. Pulls me back.
"You don't get to leave a conversation like this. You started it, and we're going to finish it."
"Let go of me. I don't have to deal with this shit. I can't take back what I did in the past. And it's not fair for you to punish me for it."
He doesn't let go of me, even though I try to shake him off. It's like he's gone into a different world, his face contorted into rage. I slap him across the face with my free hand.
"Let. Go."
The pressure releases and I pull my arm away from him, rubbing out the pain. When I look at him, his eyes are glassy, like he might cry. And his almost-crying makes me start to cry.
"Babe, I'm sorry. I don't know why I got so angry. You're right. It's not your fault. I just… I love you so much. I hate the idea that there were other guys who got you first. I always thought my first time… God, that sounds so fucking ridiculous."
He wanted me to be his first? Even though he's angry with me, I understand. I understand wanting something to be true so much - it hurts when it's not. He loves me enough to have wanted me all to himself.
"Let's try this again, okay? Do over?" he asks.
I wipe the tears and nod. I climb into his arms, inhaling his musky cologne and sweat scent. "I don't like it when you grab me like that. It scares me," I say, my voice small and meek.
He hangs his head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted you to listen to me."
"It's fine. We don't have to do it, okay?"
He lifts my chin up with his hand, and kisses me. "I want to. I want to enjoy all of you. Okay?"