In other words, I said “Uh-huh” for what seemed like an hour. When I finally pried Lisa’s work number out of her mom, I called and asked to see her as soon as possible. We met at her office at four-thirty.
We walked down to the Inner Harbour and found an empty bench. Sailboats bobbed and chimed in front of us. I kept my eyes on the wharf as I told my story. Halfway through, I remembered our heart-to-heart back at Con Brio in July. My concerns were so immature back then—Sasha’s not speaking to me because I went to the fireworks with her brother. I wished I could reverse time! I don’t know what I expected Lisa to do about my current problem. She said nothing until I was finished. Perched on a wooden post, a seagull was crying in rhythmic repetition, its beak open wide.
“When exactly did this happen?”
“Saturday afternoon.”
Lisa counted on her fingers. “Then there’s no time to waste. You can get Plan B at the drugstore, but you have to take it within seventy-two hours.”
“Plan B?”
“The morning-after pill.”
She led me to a small pharmacy close by. I hoped it would be more private than the big-box drugstore. As we pushed open the glass door, dusty, perfumed air engulfed us. We headed for the back. In the diaper aisle, a young woman bounced up and down, trying to soothe the infant strapped to her front and at the same time corral a runaway toddler. An elderly woman stood at the dispensary, leaning on a cane. The white-smocked pharmacist’s assistant had to shout at her and I cringed, worried that she would shout when it was my turn, too, and announce my dilemma to everyone in the store.
The hard-of-hearing lady took a seat right next to the counter. So much for privacy. I was grateful my own grandmothers weren’t around to overhear me right then. It wasn’t my proudest moment.
Lisa nudged me and we both stepped forward. I kept my eyes on the counter and mumbled my request.
“Pardon?” The woman kept her voice raised, perhaps trying to model the appropriate volume.
I shot Lisa a pleading look, and she said, “My friend would like to talk to the pharmacist.”
“I screen all the requests,” the woman boomed.
“It’s about Plan B,” I said.
“You’ll have to speak up.”
My cheeks were burning. Other customers had lined up behind me. “Plan B!”
The assistant’s expression instantly changed: I was one of those girls.
“Have a seat in the consulting booth. The pharmacist will be with you shortly.”
Only one person could fit into the booth, which reminded me of the penalty box at an ice rink. I didn’t want Lisa to leave. “You’ll be fine.” She squeezed my hand and smiled, flecks of amber glinting in her brown eyes. I nodded and shut myself in. Since the gate was only a few feet high, it didn’t really serve any purpose. The walls, the counter, and the shelves were stark, hospital white. Fluorescent lights glared on all the surfaces and lit the vacant seat opposite me.
At last the pharmacist arrived, wearing a white crewneck shirt under his smock, kind of like a priest’s collar. Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. He extended his arm and introduced himself. I had to stand up to shake his hand, which was dry and powdery. “How can I help you?”
Why do doctors and pharmacists always make you repeat to them what you’ve just told their assistant? At least I didn’t have to shout, and Plan B was less embarrassing to say than morning-after pill.
“Were you using any birth control at the time?”
I shook my head and stared at my lap. Would I be here if I’d been using birth control? I pressed my knees together tight.
“When did you have intercourse?”
Oh my God! So much for skipping the embarrassing part. Lisa, what have you done to me? But it wasn’t Lisa. It wasn’t even Kevin. I had done this. I had to answer.
“Saturday.”
Like Lisa, he counted back.
“Saturday night?”
What was he going to want to know next? The position, the duration, and the estimated time of ejaculation on the twenty-four-hour clock?
“Saturday afternoon.”
“Saturday afternoon?”
Yes, we’re kinky, we do it in the daylight. Don’t you wish you were young again?
“Plan B is only effective if taken within seventy-two hours of intercourse, so you’re almost out of luck. I can help you out this time, but before I do, I’m obliged to give you some information about birth control.”
He launched into the available options, emphasizing the effectiveness rate and pushing pamphlets across the counter to illustrate each method. Educators make sex sound like a dentist appointment, right down to the hygienic rubber gloves. They talk about “getting swept away in the moment” like it’s a health risk and not the point of the whole experience. I can’t help it: I want sex to be romantic.
At last he stopped talking and handed me two small paper cups: one held the pill, the other water. He watched me swallow and gave me a second pill to take twelve hours later. When he said, “How are you going to pay?” I stopped short. I honestly thought he meant pay for your sins until he placed his hand on the till. Fortunately, I had enough cash. I didn’t want any record of the purchase on my bank statement.
I escaped from the booth, still blushing, and found Lisa browsing in the greeting card aisle. At least there wouldn’t be any New Baby cards in my near future.
“Ready to go?” she said.
On the sidewalk, I took huge strides, distancing myself from the store as fast as possible. The air was cooling as evening approached.
“You look relieved. Embarrassed, but relieved.”
“I am never going through that again! NEVER!”
Lisa giggled. “That’s exactly how I felt a couple of years ago.”
“You’ve been through that too?”
She dropped her eyes to the sidewalk, then looked at me. “How do you think I knew what to do?”
I shook my head. “I’m so lucky you were there. You have no idea …”
It was five-thirty. Throngs of people were milling about. Some wore dress shirts and carried briefcases; some wore T-shirts and carried backpacks. But they all looked the same: used up and hungry for dinner. They clustered at bus stops, ear buds in place, and winced as if their shoes were too tight. Not me. I wanted to burst out singing.
Lisa was chewing her lip. “I hate to bring this up, but …”
I froze to the spot. The stream of foot traffic parted around me. My good mood evaporated. “What is it?”
“There’s one other thing you need to take care of.”
She must be thinking of the second pill. “The pharmacist gave me another pill to take at home.”
Lisa touched my shoulder. “Let’s keep walking.”
We turned off Douglas and onto View Street, where the crowds thinned out.
“It’s not about Plan B. It’s about STIs.”
“STIs?” I thought she was referring to a TV show at first. But that’s CSI. “Oh! You mean—”
We both said it together: “Sexually Transmitted Infections.”
I groaned.
“You don’t have to go today.” Lisa tried to make her voice sound reassuring. “The timing doesn’t work quite the same way.”
I wanted to punch a wall, but suddenly I was afraid to touch anything. The whole of downtown must be crawling with germs.
“Just Google the Sexual Health Clinic and call them to set up an appointment.”
We were close to the Saint Vincent de Paul Society, where there’s a soup kitchen. A man with piercing eyes and matted hair stormed past us. “Sluts.” At least, I could have sworn that’s what he said.
My legs started trembling. “I can’t handle any more right now. I’ve got to go for a run. Burn off
some tension. Want to come?”
Lisa gestured to her work clothes. “I can’t, but you go ahead.”
We parted, and I tore down the sidewalk, weaving through the rush-hour crowds and away, away, away from downtown.
Wednesday, August 11th
This morning Mom and I pulled on gardening gloves and armed ourselves with shovels and spades. We didn’t say much. Like a search-and-rescue team, we replanted the flowers and shrubs we could save and piled up the ones we couldn’t. The trunk of the ornamental cherry tree had split; sap oozed from the core and congealed. We’ll have to go to the nursery if we want to replace it, but we didn’t discuss it. I think we both need some time.
I did some mental sorting as we salvaged the garden. I wish I knew where Kevin was. I don’t know if I want to talk to him right now, but I keep thinking about Saturday. If it weren’t for the party, we would have had time to figure out what everything meant. We weren’t drunk, and that seems important. I saw the way he looked at me—I know he feels something. But is it the same as what I feel? Am I his girlfriend? I saw him talking to that Vanessa girl just before the rumble broke out and everyone dispersed. Where did he spend the night? Where is he now? Four days have already passed.
Thursday, August 12th
My period was officially due last Sunday. Is Plan B guaranteed, or not? Maybe I’m really pregnant! What will I do? A baby would ruin my life, but so would an abortion. I can’t have either one. But I would have to. Unless I killed myself. Or had a miscarriage—how common is that? I’ve heard Mom’s friends talk in hushed voices about miscarriages like they cause horrible trauma. But I would give anything for that to happen to me right now.
The strange thing is, even though I know how much trouble it causes, I can’t stop thinking about sex.
Lisa says that the muscle contractions involved in orgasm can trigger your period. That means there is something I can do. Alone.
Evening
It worked! I “induced” my period! I’ve never been so happy to see blood. Lovely dark red bodily fluid.
Friday, August 13th
It’s Friday the thirteenth, but the blood still flows—I am blessed, not cursed. Or maybe a little of both. How can Kevin have just disappeared like this? It’s almost like last week was a dream. What if I didn’t know Lisa? You know he got a girl pregnant last year, don’t you? Sasha’s voice echoes in my head. Was she telling the truth? And if so, what became of that girl? Sasha surely would have mentioned a baby—a niece or a nephew, to her!
Mom just called out that she’s running some errands. She never used to frame her plans so vaguely. No doubt it’s a tip from The Rules for Dating as a Single Parent: “Don’t burden your children with the details of your dating life, but never lie to them about it, either.” Like I care. Honestly, I’m just glad she’s giving me some time to myself so I don’t always have to escape to the beach or Con Brio.
Just remembered, Lisa told me to call her. I hear Kermit’s motor receding. Now’s my chance.
Lisa was happy to hear the news. She was at the office, and I should have just left it at that. But I wanted to get her opinion on whether I should try to find Kevin. She said, “He knows where you are. He should be calling you. And not just because of what happened between the two of you. He had a party against your wishes in your mother’s house and abandoned you to face the police. What kind of a person does that, Natalie? I really think you should forget him.”
I’ve never heard Lisa sound so adamant. Usually, she sees all sides of a situation and doesn’t pass judgment. I see her point, I really do. But acid is corroding my stomach lining, I want to see him so bad.
Lisa also asked me if I’d gone for my screening yet. My first thought was of some auditions Petra had told us about. But that’s not what Lisa meant. “You know, at the clinic?”
I groaned. “Do I have to?” The last thing I needed was more people judging me with their looks the way the pharmacist’s assistant had.
“I would if I were you.” She paused. “I’ll call and make an appointment for you, okay?”
I sighed. She obviously wasn’t going to let this go. “Okay.” I hung up, hoping to forget about it for another week or so.
But she called right back. “They had a cancellation. I got you in for Monday afternoon at one.”
“Great,” I said with zero enthusiasm.
Really. Can’t wait.
Saturday, August 14th
The blood still pours—they never told me it would be an extra-strength period like this. It’s kind of reassuring, though. The little zygote—if there is one—is sure to be flushed out. My energy has ebbed. I’m sitting in a deck chair trying to soak up some sun. Mom just asked if it’s all right to have Marine over for dinner, and I pleaded that I wasn’t feeling well enough to have company. As she listened, her face betrayed the same hunger that I’m feeling—a tapeworm eats away at her, too.
Just now Mom followed up with a second question: “Do you mind if I go out for dinner?”
I said, “Please do, that would be great,” maybe too enthusiastically. I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait to go back to school. Mom and I are crowding each other out.
Evening
Mom popped her head into my room on her way out. I detected an unfamiliar odor. “What’s that smell?”
She blushed. “Do you mean my perfume? It’s sandalwood. Don’t you like it?”
“It’s okay. Since when do you wear perfume?”
Mom cleared her throat. “It’s something new I’m trying. Just for fun, now and then.”
She assured me she wouldn’t be out late. I think she doesn’t want me to get any ideas about inviting guests over. As if!
It’s my one-week anniversary of losing my virginity. I don’t think I bled when it happened—my hymen must have been broken already by tampons and fingers. Or maybe even by doing high kicks and the splits.
So why is losing my virginity such a big deal, then? I don’t know why, but it is. I had someone else inside my body! How weird is that? It’s so confusing.
I really thought I was falling in love.
No.
I thought we were falling in love.
It has been a whole week. Has he forgotten me; has he hooked up with someone else—like Mascothead Vanessa? I’m sure I saw her gawking at him. Has she sunk her trendy little claws in him? Does he like her body better? Is she better in bed? Does he prefer someone older and more experienced?
OH MY GOD! I CAN’T STAND THIS! Maybe it’s not too late to win him back, if I can only get hold of him.
Later
*67’ed the Varkoskys. Mrs. V. answered.
“May I speak to Kevin, please?” I pitched my voice higher to disguise it.
“Who is this?”
Panic silenced me.
“Is that you, Diane? I’ve asked you to stop calling here. Do you understand me? Kevin is dead as far as you’re concerned.”
A male voice sounded in the background just before the receiver clicked. Was it Kevin?
Who the hell is Diane? The pregnant girl? How many women has Kevin slept with? How many of them were virgins? Does he make a habit of seducing virgins and ditching them once they’ve given in? And does he always go after younger girls? Do women his own age see through him?
How could he disappear on me like this?
Sunday, August 15th
I set up a sleeping bag on the deck last night. Hard to believe it has been a month since Paige and I slept out there. The earth is passing through an asteroid belt. I kept a soft focus to my gaze because, at any moment, a star could fall anywhere in the dome above me. And did they ever. Long, comet-tailed streaks of light like matches being struck across the sky. Brief flicks like silver minnows darting in dark water. The meteors fell in an arc as they gave in t
o the earth’s gravity. At times, they almost rained down. Silent cannon balls that burned up before they hit a target—thankfully!
I must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing I knew, the sliding glass door was screeching open, the patio light was switched on, and Mom was yelling, “Natalie!”
I rubbed my eyes. They felt sealed shut, and it stung to force them open. I squinted at the looming, backlit figure of my mother.
“Natalie!”
“Yes, I’m here, what is it?”
“My God! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“I came home and saw that you weren’t in bed. I’ve been calling everyone! I’ve been frantic! Sasha’s mother sounded drunk and said Kevin wasn’t there and she hasn’t seen him in days and she wouldn’t give me the number where she thought he might be staying, so I tried directory assistance, but no luck. I called your dad and couldn’t get him on his cell phone so then I was frantically searching for the number at the cabin and I couldn’t remember how to spell Vi’s last name—can you believe it? So I had to hunt for Paige’s letters and finally found the one with the cabin phone number but of course it was the middle of the night out there and I woke everyone up. Your dad wasn’t too pleased and said that there was nothing for it but to call the police. I hung up and called Marine, and even she thought it was the best thing to do, and coming from her, that’s quite a statement because just between you and me she still calls them ‘pigs’ behind their back, she’s got those old hippy values, not that I don’t, I can see where she’s coming from with that, but I think it’s different when you don’t have kids, when you have kids you’re pretty grateful to have some kind of higher authority to turn to in an emergency—”
“Mom! Calm down!” She was freaking me out with her nonstop talking. I snuggled deeper into the sleeping bag.
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