I bounced on the bed, sat next to her, and filled her in on everything that had happened during the week. I began with singing at Yountville and covered my latest date with Jerry.
“You made a big mistake not calling Ryan back. Why the fuck did you do that? Lame-O! And why the fuck do you care so much about how you look?”
“I don’t know. I think he's breaking up with me tonight. I want him to remember me looking nice, I guess.”
“He’s going to set you straight—that’s what he’s going to do,” Jenise corrected.
“That sounds gross and way too domineering for me." I scrunched my face. "What do you mean set me straight?”
“He’ll expect you to see only him. You know the night he spent with you in your room?”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t say anything when we talked before . . . that was a serious move.” She held my hand. "The way you told me he teased you, kissed you, and didn’t press you for sex? He’s serious and he'll explain it all tonight.”
“How do you know?” I piled my hair on my head.
“He can get sex and casual relationships whenever he wants them. Coming to the house after you sang the anthem and staying the night even though you told him you’re not ready for sex means he’s not letting you go easily. It’s like he’s being an old-fashioned boy just for you. For a guy who has women throwing themselves at him—I mean damn, Sis. I’d say he’s not only starry-eyed but quite a sweetheart. Do you really know what you’ve got?”
“No.” I was telling the truth. I didn’t understand. “I was sure I only wanted freedom. But hearing his voice . . .”
“You have someone special—really special. Maybe like Sean,” Jenise grinned. “Before I pick something for you to wear, tell me what you feel for Ryan.”
“I like him. I really like him. But this week, when I was with Jerry, that felt good, too. God, Jenise! We came close do doing it!"
“But you listened to your smart sister and told him to back off?”
“Yes," I nodded. "Like you said, we need to get tested. But mostly, I’m confused about sex. My feelings for Ryan were strong and then he left for his road trip. Alex took me to her photo shoot in LA and I got a taste of the business world. I liked that, too. I came back and got closer to Jerry. Then, Ryan called and well, before that I was certain breaking up with him was the right thing to do. I hear his voice and I melt. I hope he doesn't tell me goodbye. I think I blew it.”
“When a person lusts for someone—and sissy, you're lusting—it's messy. You get twisted up. So, you’re feeling hot and sexy for Ryan?” She waited for my response with obvious anticipation.
“Yes, I feel that way, but it's too soon to dress hot. I just want something pretty—not sexy. Shit. What the hell happened to me, Sis? I didn’t want any of this, and now, boom.”
“Funny how everything we think we have under our control suddenly isn’t.” She pushed herself off the bed.
“I don’t like being vulnerable. Damn it.” I clenched my fists.
“Why not? Being vulnerable doesn’t make you weak." Her eyes were alive and peaked with interest. "It means you’re open. That’s how you learn to embrace intimacy.”
“Too scary for me right now.” I shuddered.
“News flash—Ryan isn’t going to date you without sex. He sure as hell won’t wait while you go to college and find yourself.”
“Yeah, I know. Dad made sure to tell me the same thing.” I traced the pattern on her bedspread with my finger. “God, I hate it when Mom and Dad talk about that stuff. How did you handle it when you had those discussions with them?”
“Well . . .” She put her head down. “They didn’t have those talks with me because they figured I was damaged goods.”
Her words stunned me.
I never considered my sister as anything but a strong, wonderful woman, regardless of her rape. Her choice to have sex after that was her own. From a parent's point of view, I couldn't fathom why there weren't a variety of topics they should have discussed with her. As I'd found out from Jenise a few days earlier, sex was so much more than having it for the first time. It was also about mental readiness, social stigmas, physiological responses and health issues. A storm of anger thundered inside me that they hadn't taken the time to show their concern for their oldest daughter. How dare they make her feel damaged!
“I don’t think that was it.” I tried to shove my rage down. Our parents were ashamed because they couldn’t handle their daughter being violated? They couldn’t accept how she had transitioned into an independent woman and someone who made her own choices about sex regardless of how she was judged?
How were the two synonymous? I didn't understand why one had to do with the other in the minds of our parents.
“Yes, that's what happened, Nick. It's okay now, but at the time . . . pretty brutal, huh? It took months before they could even look at me. Remember when Grandma came to stay with us? They wouldn’t even let you sleep in my room.”
“That was weird,” I concurred. “I could never understand why I had to sleep in their bedroom. Still, I don’t believe they saw you as anything except their wounded daughter. You know how they are; they can’t even handle themselves.”
But down deep, I realized she was right.
“Thanks, Sis, but—"
“That’s the end of it,” I interrupted. “You’re an incredible woman, sister, daughter and girlfriend. That’s that. Let's look for something to wear. I hope you have something that fits.”
“You’re sure different now. Only a few weeks ago you'd hardly speak up or talk to anyone at home—especially me. What happened to you? Ryan has something to do with it, right?"
"I think it's all the wonderful women in my life." I nudged my shoulder into hers.
"That must be it." She socked my arm gently, returning the affection. "So what are your intentions with Ryan?”
“I want a relationship with him, but I’m afraid of taking a chance.” I picked at my fingernail. “And I want to have intercourse with him, but then—"
“God, Sis,” she scolded. “Say the words: Sex! Fucking! Getting a beef injection, the cucumber rumba, the slap and tickle, diving in the deep end, and making love.”
“Okay, well—"
“So, what you’re saying,” now she was all business. “Tonight you want to reestablish your friendship and let him know that you’re okay with more.”
“Yes."
"Finally! You're murder to get a straight answer from!"
"Sorry, I know I talk in too many circles. I don't mean to. Anyway, my connection with Ryan has always been incredible. Ever since Yountville . . .” I stopped when I saw my sister smiling.
“Take a peek in the mirror," Jenise suggested. "You'll understand when you see yourself.”
I glanced at the mirror but refused to actually look.
“Alex said the same thing when we were in LA. I was so embarrassed she’d noticed.”
“Even if you don’t admit it, the way you really want to dress is not for friendship, Sissy,” she teased. “I get it—you want to go slow.”
“What does that tell you about how I should dress?” How does she know so much?
“You don’t want to dress hot or you’ll give him the impression you’re open for sex tonight. We’ll dress you like the innocent, pretty sister you are. You’ll look soft and beautiful, with a pinch of virgin. That part shouldn’t be too hard for you to play.”
“You’re not funny.” I swatted her on the arm.
There’s that word “soft” again—first Jerry and now Jenise.
“Yes, I am,” she said confidently and sorted through the clothes hanging in her closet.
"I concede."
"Smart sister." A look of pure satisfaction warmed her face. “Tonight, you need to wear something pretty and flowing, covering everything on your curvy body. Do you have anything like that?”
“I have an extra-large t-shirt that fits like that,” I said, trying to hide m
y smile.
“God, Sis, get some clothes, would you?” The hangers were flying to the side. She was on a mission for something specific.
“Tell you a secret?” I asked.
“What’s that?” Her nose crinkled as she focused on her clothes.
“I was in your closet last year and took one of your dresses to wear for the Goliaths end-of-the-year party,” I laughed.
“What a shit you are! You could have asked, you know. I would have given you—oh, this is perfect! Here you go." She pulled something white from her large collection. "If I leave it up to you, Ryan will see you come bounding down the stairs in jeans wearing your big, innocent smile, shouting, I’m ready!” She laughed again, thoroughly enjoying herself. “You know, if you’re going to keep seeing him, you’ll have to do some shopping.”
“He knows who I am,” I said confidently.
“Do you know who he is? You’ll be exposed to his friends and business associates. Didn't Alex show you the same thing in LA?”
“Yeah.” I looked up at the ceiling, thinking about the important lesson I’d almost let slip by. “I’m not sure that after tonight he’ll want to see me again, anyway.”
“You said that earlier. I don't agree." She took a scarf from her dresser that matched the outfit. "Why do you feel that way?”
“I ignored him, Jenise. I was certain he wasn't someone I should have in my life right now. I ignored his calls and texts.”
“Like I said, I don’t think he's breaking up with you.” She handed me a pair of white silk pants and matching top. "All of this goes together." She draped the scarf over the clothes and shoved them in my arms.
I held the ensemble in front of me. The softness and the layers of cotton and silk were like foamy waves, one over the other, alternating in creamy white, opaque and sheer fabrics. The neck was cut in a U-shape and was wide from one shoulder to the other and it dipped in the back.
“This is beautiful." I gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you."
“The pants have an elastic waist for your big ass. Please try not to stretch the top with your boobs,” she said playfully, doing her best to calm my anxiety.
“I have a sports bra I can squish ‘em with,” I announced, glad I had something to contribute of my own. “It’s what I wear when I cheer and exercise so they don't bounce.”
“The top dips too low in the back for a bra like that. You either go braless—which, um," she looked directly at my breasts, "for you I wouldn’t recommend. You might give Ryan a heart attack!"
"Funny," I lamented.
"You need a special bra made for an outfit like this. I’m betting you don’t have one. Do you?”
Silence.
“Never mind.” She looked disgusted and dug through her lingerie drawer, then tossed one of her bras to me so I could try it on. It was tight and I immediately stretched the hooks.
“Oops." Damn. I've ruined her bra already. "I’m sorry, Sis. This won't work.”
“Here, let me help you.” She stepped behind me and adjusted it. Even though the bra was tight, we made it work.
“I’ll pay you back if I ruin it.”
“I don’t think I have to worry about you; it’s that big boyfriend of yours and the way he takes it off of you.” She smiled a tantalizing grin.
You and Ryan and your grins—what do you do, practice them in front of a mirror?
“What time is Ryan, um, coming to get you?”
“Around six thirty.” I ignored her comment.
“Oh good, you’ve got plenty of time to play with the outfit. You can wear any of my jewelry,” she offered. “Don’t ask, just go ahead and get what you want. Maybe I’ll set out a few things for you since you have no sense of style.”
“Thanks.” I put my arms around her. “I appreciate all your help. I know I’m interrupting your studies.”
“No, you’re not.” She put the empty hanger back in her closet. “I hope you'll interrupt me again.”
It was a moment I had to write about before the vividness of all the little details—the tones of our conversation, her facial expressions, the colors, noises, and things in her room— faded from memory. As soon as I went back into my bedroom, I put her outfit over my chair and grabbed my journal.
I was restless and unsettled. I couldn't write too long before I turned on music and then the TV. I wrote more. When I couldn’t sit still any longer, I decided to work on my hair.
I wonder if I should bring his jacket and sweat pants. Will he ask for them or just expect me to bring them?
As I was primping, my cell phone rang.
Ryan.
I knew I’d have to put on a brave front and try not to cry when he said, “I’ve changed my mind. Good luck to you, Ms. Young. I’ll be by to pick up my stuff later this week.”
“Hey, Ryan.”
“I know I’m early, but are you close to being ready?”
It’s only three. He wants to get it over with. I knew it. Why didn't I just wear jeans?
“Not yet. Are you canceling?”
“No.” I thought I heard him laugh a little. “Can you be ready in a half hour?”
“I think so.” I glanced at my clock.
“Good, because I’m coming to get you. I can’t wait any longer.”
Is this what having a heart attack feels like?
His voice made my heart slam. Why didn’t he just tell me on the phone he wanted to end everything? Why go out?
Maybe he’s going to tell me what he’d planned and saw for us, and then let me go so I can tell the next woman what he's like.
I could hear him say, “This isn’t working, but since you cheer at the ballpark, I hope we can still be friends.”
“Help!” I knocked on Jenise’s door.
“What is it?” She broke into a laugh when I peeked in.
“He’s coming early. Can you help me make sure everything looks okay? Please don’t make fun of me, I guess—”
“Oh man, girl, you are gone, aren’t you?” Jenise took my hand and we walked into her bathroom.
“I guess so. Do you think it's too late?" I grabbed her arm. "I think it’s too late. I'm sure it is. I hope it's not too late. What do you think?”
“I don't think it's too late.” She flashed another grin. By the time Jenise was through, half of my hair was up while the other half fell down my back. “One big pin to hold your hair."
“Why? I think I need more than one! Look at this mop. Maybe I should just pull it back. What if the wind blows? I’ll be a mess.”
“One pin, so that when he embraces you, takes you to his bed and covers your lips with his . . ." I watched my sister lose herself. " . . . You both lie down; he caresses your back as he lays you on top of him. Big, masculine hands slide up your body. They glance across your breasts and move through your hair. The hairpin drops. Your hair falls all around him . . . Bingo!”
I began to envision that scene.
I was sure my face revealed how lovely I felt.
“What are you smiling about?” Jenise provoked.
“Nothing.” I tried to deny it by answering flatly.
“Oh yeah?” She gave me a pair of her silver chandelier earrings. Each had several shining filigreed chains dangling from the fulcrum. They sparkled as they fell to my shoulders.
“What about your shoes?” Jenise looked me over.
“I have sandals.”
“Oh, damn.” She went into her closet and grabbed a pair of open-toed, silver shoes with a low heel. “Here, take these. Your feet are longer than mine, but they should be okay.”
Feeling like a woman who looked damn good that afternoon, I finished with lip-gloss, like my friends had so often.
I should have worn a hot dress. Maybe if I showed my boobs he’d give me another chance.
“What do you think, Jenise?” I walked into her bedroom.
“Oh, Sissy. I’ve never seen you look so pretty. The way your eyes shine . . . he’ll know you’re opening to him. Even I’m not
ready for the way you look—you never look this good.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You know what I mean. I feel a little . . . sad. My little sister is growing up . . ." She tossed her hair as if shaking away the unpleasantness. "I just realized that I’m not ready for you to date!”
“I’m not sure I am, either."
We laughed nervously.
"I owe you one.” I hugged her and then the doorbell rang.
Chapter 16
Cranberry and Orange Juice
“Moment of reckoning!” Jenise teased deliciously.
Feeling frantic, I checked myself in the mirror once again. I started to leave my room, but realized I'd forgotten my wallet.
Back to the mirror.
Shit, where are the earrings?
I put on each earring and walked out of the bedroom.
Down the hallway.
Down the stairs.
I looked down at my feet. No shoes.
Ran up to my bedroom, grabbed the shoes, peeked in the mirror.
Threw the wallet on the bed.
Sat down. Put on the shoes, grabbed the wallet and stumbled into the hall.
Damn heels.
My mother answered the door and invited Ryan inside. My father was in the living room. Immediately, Ryan started a conversation with both of my parents.
I relaxed when I heard their laughter.
After several slow and deep breaths, I walked downstairs. My feet felt as if there were weights on them. The shoes Jenise gave me to wear clacked on our wooden steps.
When I came into the room, the three of them looked at me. I felt like running away.
Ryan wore a dark gray linen vest and matching slacks with an open-collared, pale blue shirt. The rolled-up cuffs and his thick, silver chain-link bracelet made me want to lick the entire length of his forearm. Peeking out from his chest, the “BLESSED” tattoo on his upper pectorals beckoned. I was sure I heard them whisper, “You know what I’m covering.”
Ooh! Your magnificent chest! Hello to you, too!
Fire Heart (Broken Bottle Series Book 2) Page 13