by Ann Herrick
"Oh, hi," Mom said when she noticed me. "Want some pie?" In one smooth move she slid her hand off Mr. Daly's and reached over and picked up the pie cutter. She must've thought I wouldn't notice the path her hand had taken.
"Yes! Join us, Kaysie." Mr. Daly flashed me a welcoming smile and pulled out a chair with his recently‑abandoned hand. "I ran into your mother when I was walking along the lake. She invited me over for pie, and I couldn't resist."
"I'll bet." I sat down. "Mom's pies are irresistible."
Mom handed me a plate and fork, and cut off a huge slice of pie. I figured she wanted to keep me busy eating so I wouldn't have time to wonder whether or not her running into Mr. Daly was intentional.
"You mother and I have just been saying how fast our vacations have gone by," Mr. Daly said. "You'll be going home the day after tomorrow, and it feels as if you just got here."
"Well, you know what they say …" I stabbed my pie. "Time flies when you're having fun." I half expected an embarrassed, guilty silence as the response to my remark.
But Mr. Daly sighed, shook his head, and said, "How true."
"There'll be plenty of good times in the future, Parker," Mom said a bit too cheerfully.
"So you keep telling me, Margo." Mr. Daly gave Mom a small half‑smile. "So you keep telling me."
I chewed a bite of pie and tried to think. What did Mom and Mr. Daly mean by what they just said? Was it just general conversation? Or was Mom saying something significant? There'll be plenty of good times in the future, Parker. Good times in general, or good times with her?
I tried to swallow my confusion along with my pie, and wound up choking on a flake of crust.
"Are you all right?" Mr. Daly patted my back.
Mom jumped up, filled a glass with water, and handed it to me.
I took a few sips and regained enough of my composure to excuse myself. "I'm fine. But I think I'll go upstairs and lie down for a while."
"Maybe that's a good idea," Mom said. Then she slapped her forehead. "Oh! I forgot. When I went out for my walk I also went into town and picked up the mail." She got up and plucked an envelope off the top of the refrigerator. "This is for you."
"Oh." It was a letter from Brian. "Thanks." I wondered what Mom thought about me seeing so much of Troy while still writing to Brian almost every day. Of course, technically, there was nothing wrong with the situation. I was not married, unlike a certain mother I could name who had one too many men interested in her!
I waited until I was upstairs and stretched out on my bed before I opened the letter.
Dear Kaysie,
Just a few more days and then I get to see you. At last! Even though my days have been super busy, the nights have just dragged by.
I've been polishing my ring, just in case. I don't want to pressure you, if you're not ready. But I hope you are.
I miss you so much. Can't wait to see you.
Love, Brian
I carefully refolded the letter, put it back in the envelope and pressed it to my heart. If I thought too much right now about how I felt about Brian, I'd go nuts. I had to stop thinking about Mom and Mr. Daly, too. At least temporarily.
I had a wonderful evening with Troy waiting for me and I didn't want to spoil it. I knew that soon I'd have to deal with my feelings about Brian. But maybe my Evening with Troy would … would help clarify those feelings. The only way to find out was to just go ahead with everything. Meanwhile, I wasn't going to let anything ruin My First Time.
I pushed all my worries to the back of my mind and spent the rest of the day fantasizing about My Evening with Troy. By the time five‑thirty rolled around I was ready, willing, and eager.
Troy greeted me at the door carrying a big wicker picnic basket. He smiled. "All set?"
"Ready as I'll ever be." I smiled back.
Just as Troy and I were heading down the porch steps, Mom stuck her head out the door. "What time will you be back from your picnic?"
"Before dark," Troy answered.
"Okay," Mom said. "Have fun."
"We will," I said. Mom didn't seem to suspect a thing, which was interesting considering how much I'd been questioning her behavior lately.
Troy grabbed my hand and whispered in my ear. "Can't wait."
"Me, too." I felt myself getting nervous. Not scared nervous, exactly. But the sort of hard‑to‑breath feeling I'd get before a big test, even though I'd studied. I could never relax until the test actually started. I hoped it would be the same with Doing It, that once I got started I wouldn't be so nervous.
My mouth was dry and I was developing a funny twisting feeling in my stomach. Nerves, I told myself. Just nerves and anticipation. I shivered when Troy took my hand to help me into the boat. It was a good shiver, though.
When we reached the island, Troy got out first and quickly looped the rope around a fallen log. He helped me out of the boat, picked me up, and carried me to shore, almost like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold, I thought. While I waited, he went back and got the picnic basket.
"If that thing is f‑filled with food we won't have t‑time for anything except eating." Gaaa! I hoped I sounded excited and not nervous.
"Don't worry." Troy gave me a smile as he led me to the clearing. "Okay. Now close your eyes."
"But‑‑"
"Close your eyes."
I closed my eyes.
After a few moments Troy said, "Okay. You can look now."
I opened my eyes and gasped. Spread on the ground was the beautiful quilt from Troy's bed. On the quilt sat a platter of fried chicken, a loaf of French bread, a salad, brownies, a bouquet of wildflowers, a bottle, and two glasses. "Wine?" I asked, incredulous. "How on earth did you‑‑"
"Sparkling cider. Sorry, I don't have a fake I.D., and Dad would spot it in a second if I grabbed a bottle of his wine."
"Oh, don't be sorry." Actually, I was relieved. "Everything looks so … so …"
"I hope you like it." He gave me an exaggerated poor‑me look, then grinned. "I slaved all afternoon."
"Like it? I love it!" I squealed and gave Troy a kiss.
"Good," said Troy. "I really want this evening to be special."
"It already is," I said, feeling tingly all over.
We sat cross‑legged on the quilt and started our picnic. Even though I was nervous, everything tasted great. The brownies were so good I had to lick every last crumb off my fingers. "Mmmm, delicious."
"The best is yet to come," Troy said. He refilled my glass of sparkling cider, then raised his. "To us."
"To us." We clinked glasses.
After we finished our cider Troy said, "Relax for a couple minutes while I clean up."
"Okay." I leaned back on my elbows and closed my eyes. I tried to concentrate on the soft breeze caressing my face. But as I thought about what Troy and I would soon be doing, my heart pounded wildly. In fact, it sent shock waves through my entire body.
"All done," Troy said.
I opened my eyes. Troy was sitting next to me. He'd cleaned up everything and put it in the picnic basket sitting nearby. We had the whole quilt to spread out on now. Except for a packet of condoms on one corner. I opened my mouth to say something, but I felt as if my air supply was cut off.
It didn't matter. Troy put his arms around me and lowered me to the ground as he kissed me. I felt lurches of excitement mixed with a tiny twirl of stage fright.
Troy's breath was hot on my face as his lips pressed on my mouth. I could hardly breathe. I felt weak and confused.
When Troy paused for a second, I gulped some air, but still felt out of breath. He started to kiss my neck, then my throat. My pulse raced.
I braced myself for what was coming.
"Relax," I heard Troy say.
I trembled as one of his hands brushed perilously close to my left breast . In what seemed like hours, but must've been only nanoseconds, my mind whirled. What am I doing? What if I get pregnant?
Troy's hand inched closer.
> I know there are choices available, but do I want to have to make them?
Troy's hand was almost to the target area.
Ding! What have I gotten myself into?
Troy's fingers grasped my tube top. Slowly, ever‑so‑slowly, he started to pull on it …
I couldn't go through with it. I just couldn't. But I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say.
"Troy, wait." I pressed my hand on his fingers.
"What?" Troy said in a husky voice.
"I don't … I mean, we ought … that is, are you going to write to me?"
"What?" Troy's eyes held a glazed expression.
"Are you going to write to me after I go back to Connecticut?"
Troy blinked. "Yeah. I guess so." He tugged on my top.
"You guess so?" I said with as much indignation I could muster while tugging back on my top. "You mean you haven't even thought about it?"
"Hey, what is this?" Annoyance crept into Troy's voice. He let go of my top.
I adjusted it to its proper place. "I just want to know if you've even thought about whether you'd ever write to me. That's all!" I said hotly.
"Ha!" Troy pushed himself off me, sat up, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I get it. This has nothing to do with writing letters. You want to back out of this, but you don't want to admit it."
"That's not true!" I sat up and pounded the quilt, trying to convince myself as much as Troy.
"Man! You've really done a number on me. First you get me all pumped up, and then‑‑" Troy picked up the packet of condoms and threw it into the picnic basket. "To think I waited longer for you than I ever waited for any girl."
"What! You mean I wasn't the first? You've done it be‑‑" My cheeks burned from the humiliation. How could I have been so stupid. Just because I was inexperienced didn't mean everyone in the entire world was. I felt like a total fool.
Troy stood up and practically ripped the quilt out from under me. "Let's just get out of here. I've wasted enough time." He stared at me for a second, then turned and stomped off.
Tears stung at my eyes, but I fought to hold them back as I ran after Troy. I'd thought he really liked me. Or had I only wanted to think that? Just as I wanted to think that I really liked, maybe even loved, him. Because then I could tell myself everything we'd been doing was okay. But, unfortunately, I'd never really let myself sort out my feelings.
I tripped on a low branch and scratched my knee on some bramble. If Troy noticed, he didn't slow down. As I scrambled to catch up I thought how maybe I'd been afraid to find out that all I'd wanted all along was just the physical part of the relationship.
I'd thought I could enjoy all those, uh, special feelings but stop short of actually Doing It. It was a dangerous thing to do, I now realized. I could have gotten carried away, and maybe when there were no condoms handy.
Or Troy could have forced himself on me back there in the clearing. No one was around. No one would have heard me if I screamed. I'd been so stupid putting myself in such a scary situation. I couldn't wait to get off the island and back to my room where I would try to forget that this evening, this vacation, ever happened.
Once I was out of the woods I almost crashed into Troy. He was at a dead stop. At first I couldn't figure out why he was just standing there. Then I saw that he was staring at the water.
I swallowed hard. We had a new problem. It was almost dark.
And the boat was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
A chill swept through me. "Wh‑what happened to the boat?"
"That's what I'd like to know." Troy clenched and unclenched his hands.
"We can't possibly spend the night here!
"Looks like we may have to." Troy let out a small, sarcastic laugh. "To think I once wanted to be trapped on the island with you."
"This is so not funny," I said. "We could freeze out here at night. We could starve. And what will people think!"
"Oh, don't worry about your precious little reputation. I'll swear I was the perfect gentleman."
"Oh, sure!" I shrieked, in an official panic now. "And what will everyone think when they find those condoms?"
Troy let out a long sigh of disgust. "First of all, I doubt anyone will search the picnic basket. But I'll bury the condoms, if you're so worried."
"Oh, don't bother," I muttered. Although I was still upset and frightened, I was ever‑so‑slightly touched by Troy's offer to bury the evidence of our non‑actions. Maybe he didn't hate me as much as I thought. "Look, Troy, we didn't hear any engines starting while we were … picnicking. So I don't think anyone stole the boat. It must've just come loose and drifted away."
"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock."
"Hey, I wasn't the one who was so hot and bothered that I was careless about tying up the boat!"
"No. You certainly weren't hot. Bothered maybe."
Ouch. I walked into that one. "The point is, the boat might be close by. Instead of standing here sniping at each other, let's look for it."
Troy shrugged. "Might as well." He dropped the picnic basket and headed off to his left.
I went in the other direction. It was getting hard to see. I figured we had only about fifteen minutes of daylight left.
The island seemed a lot bigger walking around the edge than it looked approaching it from the water. Because I couldn't see well in the poor light, I kept stumbling over small rocks. All I needed was to break a leg to make the evening perfect.
I came to a rock formation where I had no choice but to climb or turn back. I managed to find a few toe holds and work myself up to the top. I stared into the inky water.
A movement caught my eye. Something was bobbing up and down between two rocks. I squinted for a better look. "The boat!" I yelled. "Troy, over here!"
I didn't dare take my eyes off the boat for fear it would vanish if I did.
In less than a minute Troy was at my side. "Where? I don't see it."
I pointed. "Right there."
"Whew! Now let's hope it doesn't have any holes in it." He peeled off his shirt and handed it to me.
"What are you doing?"
"What do you think? The only way to get to that boat is to get in the water and go after it. Turn around."
"What?"
"Turn around."
I turned around. I figured we didn't have time to stand around and argue. Troy handed me his sandals, his shorts, and his red bikini underwear. His red bikini underwear! I blushed, just looking at it. "Troy, why are you‑‑"
"If there's something wrong with the boat, we still might end up spending the night on this island. If we do, I at least want to have dry clothes."
"Oh."
"Wait here until you hear me start the engine. Then meet me where we had the boat tied up earlier."
"Okay." It wasn't time the time to point out that the boat hadn't exactly been tied up before.
When I heard the engine start, I half climbed, half slid down the rocks, clutching Troy's clothes so I wouldn't drop them, and ran back to the fallen log to wait. I turned my back to the water, so Troy would have some, uh, privacy, when he got there.
When I heard the boat coming, I have to admit I was tempted to sneak a peek at Troy. I mean, he did have a great bod and it would have been … interesting to see all of it‑‑even under the circumstances.
Instead, I tactfully placed Troy's clothes on a rock and closed my eyes until I heard him say, "Okay, let's get out of here."
"Wait, the quilt and the picnic basket." I started to get them, but Troy snatched them up first. He slammed the picnic basket into the boat, reminding me just how pissed off he was.
We climbed into the boat and were at long last on our way. I crossed my fingers that we wouldn't run out of gas or hit a buoy or anything dumb like that.
Except for the sound of the engine, there was an icy silence. Without the sun to warm my back, I shivered. "Brrr, it's cold," I said, more to fill the empty stillness than to express my opinion about the
temperature.
"Here." Troy shoved the quilt at me.
"Um, thanks." I thought for a second. "You got wet, so you must even colder than I am." I tried to give the quilt back to Troy.
"No. You keep it."
I didn't know if Troy was trying to maintain his image as a gentleman or was just plain stubborn. But by then I was too tired and cold to argue. I wrapped the quilt around my shoulders.
We reached the dock with the last rays of sunlight. Troy insisted on walking me home.
"That's not necessary," I said coolly. I just wanted the evening to be over with.
"I want to," Troy said through clenched teeth.
The next thing I knew, he cupped his hand around my elbow and propelled me to the porch. The light was on.
For a second we just stood there, awkwardly staring at each other. Saying Thank you didn't really seem appropriate under the circumstances, and a goodnight kiss was certainly out of the question. So finally I simply said, "Goodnight, Troy."
"Goodnight." Troy turned and walked away without so much as one backward glance.
I took a deep breath before I went inside. What a freaking horrible evening.
"So there you are," Mom said. "I was about to send out the National Guard."
"Mmmm." I didn't have the energy for even a small laugh.
"You just barely made it back before dark, you know."
"I know." I headed for the stairs. Fortunately, Mom didn't haul me back and grill me.
When I got to my room Gwen was there, sitting on her bed with a look of enormous curiosity on her face. "Well," she said. "How was it?"
I plopped down on my bed. "Sorry to disappoint you. But we didn't Do It."
Gwen looked anything but disappointed. In fact, she looked totally relieved. "Oh," was all she said at first. Then she got a big smile on her face. "In that case, let me tell you what it was like to kiss Mikel."
Chapter Sixteen
I woke up the next morning wondering just exactly where I went wrong. I mean, first I thought I had everything figured out when I vowed to remain true to Brian. Then I met Troy and convinced myself I could have a limited relationship with him. Finally I got more caught up in my mixed up feelings for Troy and couldn't really see what was lust, as Gwen so delicately put it, and what, if anything, was more than lust.