“Holy shit,” I heard.
I left the house, giggling. I hoped she wouldn’t eat him alive.
THE LIGHTNING
When I was ten, I’d asked my dad how he’d known my mom was the one for him. He’d proposed after five dates—they’d only known each other a month.
“Lightning only strikes once,” my dad said. “And when it hits, you know.”
OUT ON THE TOWN
“So are you sure you want to do it?” Marissa asked. We were sitting in the theater sharing popcorn, waiting for the previews. We really were at a horror movie, but it was about werewolves, not girls losing their virginity.
“I like scary movies,” I said.
“Not about the movie, silly. About tomorrow night.”
How many times did we have to have the same conversation? I popped a kernel into my mouth. “Yeah.”
“But what if it’s a mistake?”
I turned to her. “Why would it be a mistake?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I guess I won’t know till after,” I said, and laughed.
“Once you do it, it’s too late to go back,” she said seriously.
“I get it,” I told her. “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not,” she said quickly. “I just want to make sure you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” I said again. “I’ll call you afterward. Let you know if I’m still sure.”
“What, from under the covers?”
“No, when he leaves. Or the next morning.”
The lights in the theater dimmed. “Okay,” she said. “I’m here for you. No matter what.”
“Thanks, Marissa. Truly. I’ll give you the full report.”
“Promise?” she asked.
I thought of my mom. “Promise.”
WHY I THOUGHT OF MY MOM
I promised my mother that I would tell her before I had sex. This was before Noah, before she moved to France, before the divorce even. We were in her bed, under the covers watching something on TV. I don’t remember what, but it was something that had to do with teenagers and sex, which is how the subject came up.
“It’s very important,” she said, playing with my hair. “When you’re thinking about it, I want you to call me.”
“Mo-ooom.” I knew I was bright red.
“You pick up the phone and call me. Promise me, April.”
The idea of me having sex—or sex at all—had been foreign at the time. Like Europe or getting my license.
“I promise,” I said.
VI GETS HACKED TO DEATH. KIDDING.
I turned the key in the lock and opened the door extra loudly. Just in case they were in the living room doing something that might scar my retinas.
“Hello?” I asked carefully.
The TV was on and Vi and Dean were sprawled across the couch. Vi was wearing a tank top and her yoga pants. They were both laughing at something on the screen. “Hey!” Vi called to me. “How was the movie?”
“Scary,” I said, leaving my boots in a pile by the door. “How was . . . your night?”
“Pretty good,” Dean said. “I think we’ll get an A.”
Vi laughed hysterically and kicked his foot.
His hand was on her shoulder. “That was the best economics project I’ve ever worked on.”
I wasn’t sure what I should say and what I shouldn’t.
“He knows you know,” Vi said, still staring at the TV.
“Ah.”
“I told him about our plan. About my plan,” she clarified.
“Best plan ever,” Dean added.
“We’re going to hit Hula,” Vi said. “Wanna come?”
I did not want to get in their way. Also, I did not want to get in a hot tub with two people who had just had sex. And anyway, if I was awake, then I’d have to think about tomorrow and I didn’t want to think about tomorrow. “Nah, I’m going to sleep.” Donut followed me to the basement and I closed my door behind us.
NO LAUGHING MATTER
The next morning I heard footsteps upstairs. Then the door close. A few minutes later a car pulled out of the driveway. “Vi, get your butt down here!” I sang at the top of my lungs.
Ten seconds later Vi opened the basement door. Donut shot out.
Vi crawled under my covers. “Good morning,” I greeted her. “Do not come too close, I have not brushed my teeth. But details please!”
She gave me a lazy smile. “What do you want to know?”
“Um, everything! Was he surprised?”
She laughed. “Honestly, I thought he was going to pass out when he saw me. His face looked like this.” She did an impression of Dean with his mouth open and his eyebrows raised that resembled what one might look like post-electrocution. “Then he said, ‘Is this for the assignment?’”
“Ha, ha, ha. So what did you say?”
“I told him he had a new assignment. Operation Lose Virginity.”
“You told him you were a virgin?” I shrieked. Donut scurried back inside at my exclamation.
“I had to. I didn’t want him thinking I was suddenly attracted to him. And I assumed he’d figure it out during . . .”
“Was he shocked?”
“No! He said he’d always wondered if I’d made up the Frank story. Do you believe it?”
I wondered why I hadn’t wondered the same thing. I shook my head.
“Then he started laughing. And I told him he better stop laughing and that I had decided that it was time for me to have sex and that he was always offering his services, so did he have the balls to go through with it or not?”
“And?”
She nodded. “He stopped laughing.”
My breath caught. “And then?”
“His face got all serious and then he walked right up to me. He was an inch away. So I kissed him.”
“Omigod!”
“And then I took off his shirt.”
“Wait, wait, wait. The kiss! How was the kiss? That was the first time you kissed him, wasn’t it?”
She blushed. “I guess. Whatever. He was kind of frozen in shock at first, until I started with the removal of clothing. And then it was on.”
“Omigod. I can’t believe it. So . . . did it hurt?” At the word hurt, Donut nipped at my fingers. “No, Donut. No biting, remember?”
“A little,” Vi said. “The first time.”
“Wait—how many times did you do it?”
“Three.”
“Shut up!”
She smiled. “Honestly, the first time was about four and a half seconds.”
I covered my mouth with the palm of my hand.
“I know. I thought he was going to cry. But then he was ready for round two four and a half seconds later, so we did it again.”
“And how long did that last?”
“A while.” She scratched behind Donut’s ears. “Like forty minutes.”
“That long?!”
“I know, huh?”
“But what did you guys do for that long?”
“Like every position. I needed to test them out for my article. It was research.”
“You’re very methodical. You didn’t . . . take notes or anything, right?”
“I didn’t need to. I have the whole thing on videotape.”
“Oh God.”
She laughed. “Kidding.”
“And he just left now? Where did he sleep?”
She studied her hands. “With me. He didn’t feel like driving home, and I was going to kick him out of my room, but we did it again after you went to sleep and then we both passed out.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So there was cuddling.”
“There was no cuddling!” She sighed. “Fine. There was limited cuddling. But it was more like spooning. And it doesn’t count because it was right after sex.”
“That’s the important kind.” Not that I’d know.
“Whatever.”
“So what happens now?”
“N
othing. It was one night.”
“You think you can go from cuddling back to normal?”
“Of course we can,” she said, shaking her head. “Sex doesn’t have to change everything.”
I hoped she was wrong. I wanted things with Noah to change. Even though I saw him every day, I missed him. Something was different. I was losing him somehow. And I wanted him back.
MY TURN
The plan: I was going to make dinner.
Vi would be out. She promised to walk over to Joanna’s and stay there until at least two.
“You don’t want to see Dean?” I asked.
“No!” she scoffed, then changed the subject. “Do you even know how to make dinner? You’ve been living here a month and a half and I’ve never seen you cook anything.”
“I guess it’s time to learn,” I said. “What do you recommend? Something easy.”
“Maybe ravioli?”
“I like ravioli! And so does Noah. Perfect. And maybe I can start with a salad and then do a side of garlic bread!”
She waved her hand in front of her mouth. “Skip the garlic bread. Fresh French bread.”
“Good point.”
After returning to the dreaded grocery store on Saturday afternoon, I prepared the salad, and set out the pots in their proper position.
“This is how you use your stove, right?” I asked Vi, turning the knob on and off. I did not want a repeat of the flood.
“You’re not going to burn down my house, are you?”
“Hopefully not. But it’s possible. What should I wear?”
“The new outfit?”
“Not during dinner!”
“Do you want to borrow my red dress?”
I nodded. I hung it up downstairs, then stepped into my shower. My last shower as a virgin. I blow-dried my hair (my last blow-dry as a virgin!), did my makeup (my last makeup application as a virgin!), and got dressed (my last . . . okay, I’ll stop).
I made my bed, set out the candles, and cued the music.
Then I started to pace.
“I think you need a drink,” Vi said. We were upstairs. She was going to leave the moment Noah pulled up.
A drink was probably not the best idea. But it would give me something to do. “Okay.”
“What would you like?” Vi asked.
“Sex in the basement,” I said.
She laughed. “Did you mean Sex on the Beach?”
“I think I did. Oh God. I’m too nervous. I don’t think I should have a drink. I think it would make me puke.”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re about to have sex! With your boyfriend, who you love! Be excited! This is huge!”
It was huge. One of the biggest moments in my life. I thought back to Marissa’s questioning.
Was I sure? Yes. I was sure.
Vi poured me a mix of vodka and orange juice. We had no cranberry. I took a long gulp and let it burn as it went down. Now I was even more sure.
My cell phone rang. WEEEooooWEEEooooWEEEoooo! The police siren. My dad. I did not want to answer. But since I also did not want the actual police to appear and crash my sex party, I picked up.
“Hi,” I said, trying not to sound nervous.
“Hi, hon. Happy Valentine’s Day!”
“Thanks, Dad, you too. Oh! Thanks for the chocolate heart.” Vi had read his email too and somehow managed to slip one under my pillow last night. Cute, huh?
“You’re welcome! What are you up to tonight?”
You do not want to know. “Noah and a bunch of us are going to a party.”
“That’s nice. Be back by curfew.”
“What about you? You and Penny doing something special?”
“We’re having her parents over for dinner.”
“Oh. Okay.” Not exactly romantic.
“Love you, Princess.”
“You too,” I said, a feeling of sadness overwhelming me. I took another sip and tried not to think about it.
THE BACHELOR PAD
After my parents separated and my dad moved into his bachelor pad—aka his two-bedroom rental apartment in Stamford—we stayed there for a weekend every two weeks.
At night, Matthew would toss and turn and sigh and sleep with his eyes half open. Sometimes I’d watch him sleep. He was so sweet. I would have watched him more often if I’d known we would hardly get to see each other a year later.
On Saturday mornings, my dad made us the best omelets. Stuffed with cheese and mushrooms that he picked up at the market after he came to get us. After we helped him with the dishes, we liked to look at old photo albums of family. My grandmother had stick-straight hair and was always holding my grandfather’s hand. He was always holding a cigarette.
“My mom used to iron her hair straight,” he told us.
“With an actual iron?” I asked, incredulous.
They had both died when my dad was in college. My grandmother from breast cancer, and my grandfather from a heart attack. Wham, bam, good-bye.
When we looked at pictures, my dad always kept his arm around me, keeping me close.
Matthew would go to sleep early and my dad and I would stay awake watching Letterman or Saturday Night Live. The TV would cast a kaleidoscope-like glow over his white walls.
I felt closer to him than I ever had.
My dad met Penny eight months after he and my mom separated, around the same time Noah and I finally got together. She was the first woman he introduced us to.
In the previous three months, he had gone out with fifteen women. I knew he was a hot commodity. I hadn’t realized fifteen-in-three-months hot.
I knew this not because he told me—he was the parent who didn’t overshare about his love life—but because one Sunday I used his computer when mine was acting slow and I’d found an open Excel document on his screen. The page listed all the women he’d gone out with, the dates he’d gone out with them, along with their numerical values. He graded them on looks, personality, character.
“Dad! I can’t believe you rank the girls you date,” I said. “That’s so gross!”
He looked offended. “Why is it gross? I’m trying to be scientific. It’s practical.”
“People aren’t numbers, Dad. You can’t just objectify them.”
“Did you see the notes section?”
“But what about the lightning?” I asked.
“There’s more to life than lightning,” he answered, looking away.
And maybe there was. He married Penny a year after my mom left him.
Penny got an 8, 8, 9.
ENOUGH WITH THE PARENTS
My mom called next. “Isn’t it the middle of the night there?” I asked her.
“It is. I couldn’t sleep. I had a dream about you. Is everything okay?” My mom fancied herself psychic. She claims to have dreamt about her own grandfather’s death the night before he died. I’ve yet to see this psychic ability play out. Although it was weird that she was calling me an hour before I was going to lose my virginity.
“I’m good, Mom,” I said. I took another sip of my drink.
“You sound funny. Where are you?”
“At home. At Vi’s.”
“Are you alone?”
“Vi’s here.”
“No Noah?”
“He’s on his way.”
Pause. “Is tonight the night?”
“Mom!” How did she know?
“You promised you’d tell me! Is it?”
Oh God. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I’m your mother. I have a right to know these things.”
“No, you don’t.” This was too much.
“Please? I just want to know what’s going on with you.”
I took another sip. “Yes.”
“I knew it! I told you I was psychic. But . . .” She choked up. “I wish I were there. It’s one of the biggest moments in your life.”
“I probably wouldn’t be doing it if you were here.”
“I don’t
mean there-there, I just . . . It’s a big step. Are you sure you’re ready?”
I sighed. “Don’t be annoying about this, ’kay?”
“I won’t, I won’t! But you’re going to be careful, right? Are you using a con-dome?”
“Yes. And I’m on the pill.”
“You are? Since when?”
“Since . . . a while. Since the summer.” I don’t know why I lied. Did I want her to feel left out?
“Oh.” She sighed.
The doorbell rang. I hadn’t heard him pull up to the house.
“Mom, I have to go. He’s here.”
“Oh. Right. So. Be careful. You’re sure you’re good?”
“Mom, I’m good.” Have to go, have to go, have to go. I should brush my teeth again.
“And can you call me later?”
Was she still talking? “Um . . . how about tomorrow?”
“Not tonight?”
“No, Mom.”
“Okay. Tomorrow. I love you.”
“You too,” I said. I hung up, wondering if it was weird that my mom and I just discussed my impending loss of virginity. I opened my mouth to ask Vi, then shut it. Was it better to have a mom who discussed your impending loss of virginity, or a mom who didn’t?
“I’m leaving,” Vi said. “Do you want me to let Noah in on my way out?”
“No, I’ve got it.” It really should be me to open the door to my soon-to-be . . . lover. Eeeek. I took a deep breath. “How do I look?”
“Gorge.”
“Thanks.”
I opened the door.
Unblinking navy eyes stared back at me.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said.
Lucy stepped into the house. “Hi, guys! What are we doing tonight? I brought a DVD. And some popcorn?”
I turned to Vi. “Vi? Help? Please?”
Vi put on her coat and grabbed Lucy by the arm. “You’re coming with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Away from here before April hits you.” Vi waved at me. “Have fun. Have another drink.”
The door slammed behind them.
“I’m good,” I said to the closed door.
MY TURN, TAKE TWO
The doorbell rang.
He was here.
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