Notes from a Former Virgin

by Emma Chastain

  We found the box on the shelf and brought it to the register. “I’ll buy it,” Grady said in a low voice.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Wait, one sec,” he said, and left me standing at the counter. The clerk was a bored-looking kid, maybe in his 20s, with thin black hair pulled into a ponytail. STUART, his name tag said. Stuart was busy texting with his phone half hidden under the register. I don’t think he noticed me.

  Grady came back with two pamplemousse LaCroix, a jumbo box of Junior Mints, and a giant package of new condoms. He had to say “excuse me” to get Stuart’s attention.

  Did Stuart smirk a tiny bit as he rang us up? Maybe, but I’m telling myself he didn’t. And at least it was marginal enough that I wasn’t sure either way.

  In the parking lot, we got on our bikes and put on our helmets. Grady ripped open the box, handed me a white pill, then opened one of the LaCroix cans and gave it to me.

  “Right here?” I said.

  “As soon as possible, the directions said. And the second one 12 hours from now.”

  “Take a picture,” I said.

  He got out his phone. I held the pill between my thumb and index finger and did a “cheers” motion with the can.

  “You look so cute,” he said.

  Plan B is not a big whoop. It stops your ovaries from releasing an egg, that’s all. But is it OK that I don’t feel anything about it? Not sad or wistful or upset or whatever? I feel like I took an Advil.

  Monday, October 23

  I woke up at 5 a.m. in a sweat. Going to sleep restarted my mind, and now I’m seeing clearly. THE CONDOM BROKE. Why was I so calm?

  Chloe: Did you come inside me AT ALL on Sunday?

  Grady: Not really

  Chloe: ?????

  Grady: Like a tiny bit before the condom broke

  I’d just started

  Chloe: Oh god

  Grady: You took the pill! You remembered to take the second one right?

  Chloe: Yeah

  Grady: So don’t worry

  I went to chemistry and didn’t hear a single word Ms. Ronaldo said. When I looked at my phone after class was over, a text was waiting for me.

  Grady: When are you supposed to get your period?

  Chloe: Are you worried now????

  Grady: No

  Just wondering

  Chloe: In a week I think

  Give or take

  Say something!

  Grady: Sorry was googling

  I don’t think you could have gotten pregnant anyway

  Unless you ovulated really late

  Chloe: omg ovulated

  Grady: ?

  Chloe: That word makes me think of a chicken pooping out an egg

  Grady: That’s basically what it means

  Chloe: What are we gonna do

  Grady: Don’t worry sweetie pie

  Everything will be fine

  Tuesday, October 24

  The symptoms of pregnancy are nausea, food aversions, tender breasts, cramping, fatigue, backaches, headaches, and mood swings. (Do they have to say “tender breasts”? It makes it sound like someone’s going to salt and pepper them and eat them with a fork.) I think I have each and every one of those symptoms. But did I have them before I started reading about them?

  Wednesday, October 25

  Grady came over after school. Without talking about it, we stayed in the living room the whole time. For a while we played Bananagrams, and then we even did some homework! I almost wanted my dad to come home and catch us being wholesome.

  While Grady was here, I felt calm. I was thinking, Look, I took the first pill minutes after we had sex and the second one 12 hours later, on the dot. Anyway, it wasn’t the right time in my cycle to get pregnant. Everything’s fine.

  As soon as he left, I started freaking out. Yes, I took the pill, but it’s only effective in eight out of nine cases—it says so right there in the instructions. And yes, I keep telling myself it wasn’t the right time of the month, but am I sure about that? I don’t even know when I’m actually supposed to get my period.

  Then I went online, which made me freak out more. If I don’t want to hear stories about teen moms who got pregnant after taking the morning-after pill, I shouldn’t Google “teen moms who got pregnant after taking the morning-after pill.”

  Thursday, October 26

  I came out of a kind of trance today to find Mr. Huang standing in front of me, snapping his fingers in my face to get my attention. I can’t concentrate on anything but my symptoms, or phantom symptoms.

  Friday, October 27

  No one at our school has babies. But that doesn’t mean no one gets pregnant. I can’t believe I’ve never put this together before.

  If I’m pregnant, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t have the baby. I can’t get an abortion. I can’t put the baby up for adoption. I mean, I could do any of those three things, but it’s like being forced to walk through one of three doors and behind each door is a wall of fire.

  Saturday, October 28

  Grady: How’s it going?

  Chloe: I don’t have my period if that’s what you’re asking

  Grady: You’ll get it

  You were supposed to today?

  Chloe: I’m not completely sure

  I don’t really write it down

  Grady: [link to a period tracking app]

  Sunday, October 29

  I’m not kidding, I’m cramping and my lower back hurts and my boobs feel bigger. Of course, that’s what happens before I get my period, too. What kind of evolutionary boner led to pregnancy symptoms being exactly the same as period symptoms?

  Monday, October 30

  Still nothing. I hate the moron who was laughing hysterically when the condom broke. There’s nothing funny about cells multiplying in my body at a miraculous and terrifying rate. I don’t even want to look up what might be happening in there at this stage of a you-know-what. I really do feel sick, but maybe that’s because I’m so upset and worried.

  Tuesday, October 31

  Tris: I talked Elliott out of the Star Wars costumes, yessss

  Want to meet outside at 7?

  Chloe: See you there!

  Chloe: We forgot about the Halloween dance

  Grady: Whoops

  Chloe: I told Tris we’d go

  Grady: We should

  It’ll be a good distraction

  But costumes???

  We agreed to wear black hoodies and black jeans, and Grady said he’d stop by CVS on the way to school. We met in the parking lot at 6:30. Grady showed me his purchases: white and red face paint and two sets of vampire teeth. We pulled up a tutorial on YouTube and I did his face, scanning back through the video every few seconds to review the steps. Then he held up my pocket mirror so I could see, and I did my own face. I think my period/pregnancy panic was good for my makeup artistry: if I do say so myself, we looked terrifying when I was done. After we pulled up our hoods and walked toward the school, we kept scaring kids. Our regular clothes helped. If you saw us from the back or the side, we looked normal. Then we turned our faces and: VAMPIRES. Maybe our grim expressions helped too.

  Tris and Elliott were waiting for us at the entrance, dressed as Mario (Tris) and Luigi (Elliott). They looked taken aback when they saw me and Grady.

  “You didn’t go the sexy nurse and doctor route, I see,” Tris said.

  “You guys look great,” I said. “Where did you find those mustaches?”

  “I lifted them from the costume department,” Tris said. “The spirit gum I already had, obviously.”

  Elliott looked grumpy. “I feel ridiculous.”

  Tris patted his arm. “You look adorable.”

  “I don’t want to look adorable,” Elliott said. “I want to look menacing.”

  We all cheered up once we got inside and started eating mini candy bars.

  “Do you want to dance?” Grady said when the first slow song came on.

  Most people were still swaying back
and forth at arm’s length—it was only a few minutes into the event—but Grady and I clung to each other like we had seconds left to live.

  “I’m scared,” I said.

  “I know,” he said.

  “Are you?”

  “No,” he said right away. “I know it’ll be fine.”

  I squeezed him like I was trying to crush his vertebrae.

  I hardly even noticed when Zach and Reese made their big entrance as Batman and Poison Ivy. They looked like chiseled celebrities, and I didn’t care. I had bigger problems.

  It happened when Tris and Elliott were enthusiastically busting a move to “Despacito” and Grady and I were gamely trying to look happy dancing next to them.

  “What?” Grady said when he saw my face.

  “Hang on,” I said, and hurried to the bathroom. I found a free stall, yanked my jeans down, and there it was: BLOOD! Beautiful, gorgeous period blood!!!!! I felt like hugging my underpants.

  I pulled my jeans back up and stuck my head around the stall door. “Does anyone have a tampon?” I called out. I was too happy to feel embarrassed. Jacqueline Foster said, “I do,” and handed me a regular in a bright yellow wrapper.

  When I was done, I speed-walked back to the cafeteria. I spotted Grady immediately, but he didn’t see me yet. He was listening to Elliott say something, but from the far-off look in his eyes, I could tell he wasn’t actually hearing him. I couldn’t stand it, the sight of his innocent, still-worried face. I knew we were fine, but he didn’t yet, and he wouldn’t until I got to him. It felt like it took hours, pushing through the crowd of twerking kids. “Sorry to interrupt, Elliott,” I said, and pulled Grady off to the side.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth and whispered in his ear, “I got my period.”

  He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back so he could see my face. “Really? Really??”

  “Really!”

  He kind of collapsed into a crouch, with his head resting in his hands. I crouched down next to him.

  “Thank God,” he said, looking at me.

  “Thank God,” I said.

  “I was so scared,” he said.

  “You were? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “We couldn’t both be scared at the same time.”

  “But we were!”

  “Well, I didn’t want to make you more upset.”

  He put his hands on my face. I put my hands on his face. He looked so beautiful and sweet, even made up like a half-dead person with blood dripping from his bottom lip. Blood! Glorious blood!

  “I love you,” I said.

  He started laughing and fell forward, taking me down with him. We were both lying on the floor when he said, “I love you too! I love you so much!”

  If you want to have the best night of your life, just have a pregnancy scare that ends during a school dance, tell your boyfriend you love him, and then spend the next two hours dancing wildly to express your inexpressible joy and relief.

  Wednesday, November 1

  The second day of my period is always the worst. I bleed like someone knifed me, and it feels like there’s a bowling ball bearing down on my vagina. I couldn’t get enough of it today. The more it hurt, the more I remembered I’m not pregnant.

  Grady came over after school and we lay around staring at each other and saying “I love you” every few minutes.

  “Was it mean that I was so excited not to be pregnant?” I said.

  “Mean to who?”

  “Our imaginary baby!”

  “Our imaginary baby wants you to go to college,” he said.

  Nothing makes me happier than when he talks about the future like we’ll still be together when it gets here.

  Thursday, November 2

  We agreed: no more sex until I’m on the pill. It’ll be easy: I will never forget the terror of the past week, and therefore I will never again be tempted to have sex using only one form of protection.

  Friday, November 3

  I forgot how I lose control and turn into a feral animal whenever Grady breathes into my ear. It was close today, but we didn’t Do It. We’ve added ear-breathing to the list of banned activities.

  Saturday, November 4

  Dad woke me up this morning banging around. I threw on clothes and ran downstairs.

  “I’m trying to sleep,” I said when I found him in the kitchen. He was standing on a stepstool, pulling a blender out of a high cabinet.

  “Sorry, Your Majesty,” he said. OK, maybe I sounded spoiled, but could he show a little sympathy? I’m a teenager. Nature wants me to fall asleep at midnight and wake up at 10 a.m. Every weekday, I spend the first four hours of school dying to go back to bed—we all do! We have two shots per week at catching up and feeling normal, and Dad was ruining one of them with his random blender banging.

  “I thought you could start with the front hall closet,” he said. “Maybe cull your outgrown coats. I think there are some old ones of your mother’s, too. You might want to bring them over to her. I picked up some heavy-duty trash bags.” He jerked his head toward a box on the island.

  “Wait,” I said. Light was dawning. “Is Miss Murphy moving in tomorrow?”

  “We talked about this.”

  “You said the beginning of November. You didn’t give me a date.”

  “I’m sure I did,” he said. Oh, OK! As long as he was sure. Grown-ups are always so convinced that you’re the scatterbrained one who’s too absorbed in your phone to pay attention to the important things people are saying. They should take a look in the mirror!

  “You didn’t,” I said, but he was rooting through the utensil drawer and failed to notice the fury in my voice.

  “Well, we agree I said the beginning of November, and this is the beginning of November. Why do we have four ice cream scoops?”

  It was actually easy to declutter in the beginning, because I was so angry. I yanked things off of hangers and threw them in the donation pile without a qualm. I got through the coats, winter accessories, umbrella pile, and shoe rack without even having coffee. Eating breakfast calmed me down, and after that I worked more slowly. It was even kind of fun, pulling out all our junk and organizing the stuff that remained. I got so into it that after a few hours I lost track of the purpose of all this tidying: to make room for my married dad’s girlfriend to move into our house and stay forever.

  Sunday, November 5

  She’s here. She didn’t bring much stuff. Four giant suitcases. Five boxes. A few vases. Lots of books. A Keurig, a coral-colored blanket, two throw pillows with a palm leaf design. No furniture, though. When she watched Dad pull her stand mixer out of a box, she said, “That thing takes up a ton of counter space. We can junk it if you want.” Of course he said no, no, he would get lots of use out of it, he was so sick of using his hand mixer, etc. She unpacked quickly and then left to visit her mother. Now she’s back, we’ve had dinner, and I’m hiding in my room. I guess that’s my plan: hide in my room until it’s time to leave for college.

  Monday, November 6

  Woke up in the morning to the sound of Dad and Miss Murphy giggling in their bedroom. After I showered and got dressed, I went downstairs and caught him squeezing her butt in the kitchen as she poured oatmeal into a bowl. We all pretended I hadn’t seen anything. Then at dinner, they got drunk on wine, held hands, and told stories about their college exploits. I’m the third wheel in my own house. It would be one thing if Miss Murphy were giving me inside information about which musical she’s picked, but she won’t even do that (I’ve already asked twice).

  I think about what Noelle told me and try to be dignified. I don’t want to be the sulky teenager who’s jealous of her dad’s girlfriend. So I act cheerful. I walk around smiling all the time. I answer politely whenever they speak to me, but I don’t speak first. I can’t tell if they’re noticing any of this.

  Tuesday, November 7

  The house is still empty after school, thank God. Between 3 and 6, it’s like Miss Murphy never moved in at all
.

  Wednesday, November 8

  Grady came over and we hooked up for about four hours. It was like the good/bad old days: grinding with our pants on until I was ready to punch him, and then myself, from frustration. He wanted to go down on me. I was worried it would make me crave sex too much, but of course I was dying for him to do it, and then when I finally said yes, I made it about 30 seconds before I was like, “Let’s just do it!” and he said, “We can’t, we can’t,” and I said, “PLEASE,” and it went on like that for a while until he said, “We have to stop,” and I actually cried a little.

  Thursday, November 9

  Grady suggested hanging out but not hooking up, which sounded brilliant to me, but if anything, it was worse than yesterday. We sat in the kitchen eating Toll House cookies. So far, so good. Then he got some strawberry jelly on his thumb. He licked it off in a brisk, boyish way—he wasn’t goofing around and pretending to be sexy about it or anything—and still, I swear to God, I almost had an orgasm. (I think. I’m still not entirely sure what they are or how you know you’ve had one.)

  Friday, November 10

  Chloe: What if I can’t wait until the 22nd?

  Or later actually because my test isn’t until the afternoon, and I probably can’t drive to planned parenthood right after

  Grady: And then it’s thanksgiving

  Chloe: OH GOD I forgot

  Grady: We can make it another few weeks