by S. Walden
“Do you like to cook?” I asked.
“I learned to like it,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“When you live by yourself, you either learn to cook or you eat out all the time and get fat,” he explained.
I nodded. “Need any help?”
“Do you know how to cook?”
“No.”
“Then just stay right there,” he replied, and winked.
I rolled my eyes and took another sip of coffee.
When all the banging and sizzling and clanking and slapping were done, Mark filled the table with several plates of breakfast treats: pancakes, bacon, sausage, hash browns, scrambled eggs, toast, and cinnamon rolls. There was also fresh-squeezed orange juice.
“Nice touch,” I said, pouring some juice.
“I’m trying my hardest to impress you,” he replied. “And I’m ravenous.”
“You and me both,” I said, and bowed my head. I didn’t think about it. It was automatic. I even did it at school, though I was much more covert about it. It’s not that I was ashamed of praying over my food, but I didn’t want to make others uncomfortable. I didn’t want to make Mark uncomfortable, so I said a quickie: Dear God, thank you for this amazing breakfast, and snapped my head up.
Mark was smiling at me. He’d waited to pile his plate until I finished.
“What’d you pray about?”
“The food,” I said.
“Praying it’d be good?” he asked.
I laughed. “No. I know it’ll be good. I thanked God for it.”
“But I’m the one who made it,” he said.
“Well, thank you,” I replied.
He inclined his head, then poured a massive amount of syrup on his pancakes.
“What else did you pray about?” he asked as he shoveled pancakes in his mouth.
“Nothing.”
“Didn’t thank God for anything else you received this morning?”
I froze, my fork centimeters from my lips. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“A little,” he said, and bit into a piece of sausage.
“It’s not,” I snapped, and shoved hash browns in my mouth.
“Cadence? Seriously? I’m just joking with you,” Mark said.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I am not. That’s not fair.”
I ignored him and continued eating.
“I really wasn’t trying to be an asshole, Cadence,” Mark said gently.
I was silent for a moment.
“What I’m doing is wrong,” I said finally.
“What do you mean?”
“Being with you. Sneaking around. Lying. Letting you do things to me,” I said. “It’s wrong, and I feel guilty.”
“Do you really think it’s wrong that we’re together?” Mark asked. “Or do you think it’s wrong because that’s what you’ve been taught?”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is that you’re a young woman old enough to make your own decisions.”
“Ah, yes, moral relativism,” I said.
“Nope. I’m not talking about moral relativism at all. I’m talking about you being old enough to define your boundaries, decide your values based on what allows you to live a good life—”
I opened my mouth to object.
“—as long as you’re not hurting anyone else,” Mark finished.
I grunted and shoved a pancake in my mouth.
“Are you enjoying breakfast?” Mark asked.
“The actual breakfast? Yes. The conversation? I don’t know,” I replied, downing the rest of my juice.
“Well, I’m enjoying both,” Mark said.
“How can we go from oral sex to talking about God?” I asked.
“Why can’t we?”
“Isn’t it disrespectful?”
“I don’t think so.”
I chewed on my bottom lip.
“There’s more to eat, you know,” Mark said, observing me.
“Funny,” I replied, and piled my plate again.
“You’re not doing anything wrong, Cadence,” Mark said. “I mean, you’re not doing anything wrong being with me.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t share my values,” I replied. I didn’t know what that meant, mostly because I wasn’t sure what his values were.
“Then why are you with me?”
I jerked my head to look at him. “What does that mean?”
“Calm down. It wasn’t meant to sound aggressive. I love that you’re with me. I hope you continue to be with me. But I don’t want you feeling guilty about it all the time.”
“I don’t,” I said. “I mean, most of the time I don’t. But I really don’t like lying to my parents.”
“I know.”
“Not because I especially like them right now. I think they’re mean to me. I’ve been so good. I’ve tried so hard. And nothing. They would have never let me drive if I weren’t failing your class, and they’d never let me go anywhere if Avery hadn’t come into the picture.” I pushed my eggs around the plate.
“Well, maybe you can look at those things as divine intervention,” Mark said.
I studied his face, but there was no hint of sarcasm. He wasn’t making fun of me. He was trying to make me feel better.
“So what happened that night?”
I tensed, unsure if I wanted to reveal the details of that fateful evening.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he said quickly.
“No, it’s okay. As long as you don’t judge.”
“I’ve never judged anyone over anything,” he said.
“Skeletons in your closet?” I asked, smirking.
“Several. But we’re not going there yet,” he said. “We’re talking about you.”
“Ah, yes. Me. Me and my big mistake,” I said, scooping more eggs onto my fork. “Well, there’s not much to tell.”
“I’m sure there is,” Mark teased.
I sighed. “All right. I made a big mistake. I didn’t listen to Gracie when she told me not to go to that party. I went because Dean invited me.”
“Dean?”
“Yeah, Dean.”
“But he’s a loser,” Mark said.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m aware. But my boyfriend had just broken up with me, and I was vulnerable, okay?”
“I understand,” Mark said.
I chuckled. He didn’t understand, but whatever.
“So anyway, he invited me to a stupid party. I’d never been invited to a party. I wasn’t popular or anything, but I wasn’t an outcast either. Just one of the regular, mostly see-through kids.”
“Regular, mostly see-through kid,” Mark repeated. “I like that.”
I nodded. “I went, and I spent half the night trying to get Dean’s attention. It was stupid. I was gonna leave, but I went to the bathroom first. And that’s when he came in and offered me cocaine.”
“And you took it just like that?” Mark asked.
“Well, no. I didn’t want to, but he was really cute, and I was really vulnerable. You remember me telling you about the vulnerable part?”
Mark nodded.
“So I did. And I won’t lie. It felt amazing. I felt like I could do anything, like I was the tallest person on the planet stretching up to heaven. I felt like an angel, like I could fly around and save people and leap from buildings and discover the secrets to the universe.”
Mark scowled.
“I’m just being honest,” I said.
“I know. It’s just hard for me to understand. I don’t see the appeal.”
“You don’t see the appeal of feeling invincible?” I asked.
“But you weren’t really invincible. You just felt that way,” Mark said.
I thought for a moment. He was right, and there was nothing I could say to it, so I just moved on. “And then I made out with Dean.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Mark groaned.
“What?! You asked!” I said.<
br />
“That’s worse than snorting cocaine.”
I laughed.
“It really was. I don’t know why I thought he was all that. He made fun of my breasts—”
“I don’t wanna hear any more of this part, Cadence,” Mark interrupted.
“All right, all right,” I said. “So some other people came into the bathroom. I didn’t know who they were, but that didn’t matter. I remember becoming best friends with all of them, and that’s when we hatched our brilliant plan to go rob that convenience store out on Old County Line Road.”
“God help us.”
“That’s what I said in court!”
Mark narrowed his eyes at me while I cracked a smile.
“You’re getting frustrated with this story.”
“I’m not,” Mark said. “I’ve never robbed a convenience store, but I’ve done some crazy shit in my past.”
I perked up. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Nice try. We’re not done with you yet.”
I shrugged. “Well, we walked from the house to the convenience store. That’s how close it was. And Dean had the bright idea of holding up the store owner with a tranquilizer gun.”
“Smart one,” Mark said, rolling his eyes.
“I was in charge of watching the door. I don’t really know what went on inside, but I remember feeling like we could get away with it. I guess that’s what cocaine makes you feel. Like you can get away with anything. But we didn’t. We were stupid and wasted, and the store owner called the cops.”
Mark grunted.
“Long story short, we were arrested. I went to court. The judge gave me a lecture and ten months hard time—”
“Hard time, huh?”
“That’s what I said. Hard time. And then I got out and realized I’d gone home to nothing. No friends. No freedom. No car. Nothing. I pretty much lost everything, as you know.”
“You were the saddest girl in the world those first few weeks of school,” Mark said. He was teasing me just a bit.
“Be nice. It was hard.”
“I know, Cadence. And that’s why I really tried to make it better for you,” Mark said.
“Hmm. You ended up making it worse because you were so confusing,” I admitted.
“I’m sorry.”
“No you aren’t” I countered. “You’re not sorry at all.”
Mark grinned. “You know what I’m excited about?”
“What’s that?”
“The fact that I have you all day. And all night again.”
I blushed. “We can’t exactly go anywhere. Sorry you have to hole yourself up in your apartment with me.”
“I don’t wanna go anywhere. I have big plans for us that include board games and movies and cooking.”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to help you cook,” I said.
“I was just teasing you earlier, Cadence,” Mark replied.
“But I really don’t know how to cook.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just dress you up in an apron and let you fetch me things.”
I looked at him flatly.
“Oh, and you’ll be naked under the apron. Just so you know.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“Are you excited for today?”
I blushed again and nodded.
“Good.”
“I had this song on a continuous loop in my head the first time I saw you.” Mark sat on the couch and watched me finger his records.
We were listening to DJ Premier’s “Gettin’ Closer to God,” and I stopped rifling through the albums.
“You did?”
Mark smiled. “I thought you were an angel. The sun was to your back. It lit up your hair. Your face. Remember that light I was telling you about?”
I nodded. I still didn’t understand.
“You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And when you came into my classroom that first day of school, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
“Heaven for you, maybe. It was hell for me,” I said. I tried to make it sound casual, like I really didn’t care.
“I know that day was rough for you, Cadence.”
“You didn’t help by yelling at me,” I reminded him.
“You’re right. I had no business yelling at an angel,” Mark said. He stood up and turned off the record. I watched him scan his CD collection and pull a case from the shelf. “You made my heart feel like this the first time you winked at me.”
He played a new song—a bright explosion of beats—cheerful and funky and fun.
“When I winked at you?”
“That Saturday we volunteered to clean up those houses,” Mark said.
Oh, yes. I remembered now.
“What’s the name of this song?” I asked.
“‘Boom’.”
“The name of the song is ‘Boom’?”
Mark nodded.
“Of course it is,” I said, smiling. “Did I really make your heart explode?”
“Yes, you did. You still do.”
He sat on the floor beside me and crossed his legs Indian style.
“So what do you wanna be when you grow up?” he asked.
“I haven’t really thought about it,” I said. “I guess I should though, huh? I don’t wanna wander aimlessly through the first years of college.”
“Smart girl.”
“I really love flowers,” I said. “One of my favorite times during the day—apart from seeing you, of course—is working at Millie’s.”
“Then maybe you should consider a career as a florist. Own your own shop,” he suggested.
I smiled. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
“Then you can be my flower girl,” Mark said.
It sounded like he was including me in his future plans, and it made me feel safe. I don’t know if I was supposed to feel that way, or if I was supposed to want independence, but either way, I liked hearing him claim me for his own. His flower girl. No one else’s.
I realized in that moment that I was one hundred percent female. Sounds silly. I knew it all along when I looked at my naked body, but for the first time I was seeing my naked mind, open and vulnerable to me, revealing that feminine wiring so distinctly different from men’s. Not anything of weaker value. Just different. Maybe softer. And that wiring showed me my desires. I wanted him to cradle me in his arms, tell me I was beautiful, and take care of me. In return, I thought I could do the same.
“Will you lie on top of me?” I asked. It came out of nowhere.
“You want me to lie on top of you?”
“Yeah. Right here on the floor. I wanna feel your full weight on me,” I replied.
“I’ll crush you, Cadence,” he said.
“I don’t think I’d mind.” And that was the truth. I thought I’d like to feel the air pushed out of my chest, the heaviness of male muscles pinning me to the floor, driving me into it. The weight of someone my exact opposite.
“Please?”
Mark crawled on top of me, and I lay back on the carpet, spreading my legs to accommodate him.
“I really don’t wanna crush you,” he said, hovering over me with most of his weight on his elbows.
“I’m not completely fragile,” I argued.
He smirked and leaned into me, and I immediately felt the gentle expulsion of all my oxygen, like he stole it away with a kiss, though his lips never touched mine.
“I can’t breathe,” I said, but I didn’t panicked.
Mark propped himself up on his elbows immediately.
“I didn’t say to do that. Lie on me again.”
“You said you couldn’t breathe, Cadence.”
“Just do it,” I demanded, and he fit his chest over mine once more. Immediately, most of the air was forced out of me, and I reveled in the feel of complete powerlessness. I tried for words, though I knew they would eat up the little reserve of oxygen in my mouth. “You could do anything you wanted to me.”
“I know,” he said into my ear.
“But I’ll never hurt you, Cadence. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I said, and felt the last of my breath go, creeping past my lips in no particular hurry. And then he put his full weight on me for the first time, and I panicked, jerking my arms and legs. He sat up on his heels and looked down at me. His facial expression said, “See? That’s 190 pounds.” I stared at him with new appreciation for his strength.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded dumbly, and then I grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him down on me again. I kissed him roughly, wrapping my legs around him, daring him to put his full weight on me once more.
“No, Cadence,” he said into my mouth.
“Make love to me.”
“Not yet,” he replied, kissing my forehead and cheeks and nose.
“Why?”
“Be patient, Cadence,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“But I want it now,” I complained.
“I know,” he replied. “But you’ll be happy we waited. And anyway, I don’t want my first time with you to be on the living room floor.”
“Then let’s go to the bedroom,” I suggested.
“No.”
“I hate that word.”
“You hate it coming out of your father’s mouth. Not mine.”
“I hate it regardless,” I pouted.
Mark leaned over and kissed my neck. “No, you don’t.”
I felt real sexual frustration for the first time—an intense, almost unfair aching between my legs that screamed at me, “Put something in it!” How could I ache for something I’d never before experienced? It was unsettling and forced me confront my animal nature. I always thought men were the animals—raw, rough sexuality. That’s bullshit. Women can be just as rough and raw. And suddenly, I didn’t think I was ready to witness myself in the throes of “rough and raw.”
“You’re right,” I said quickly. “Get off me.”
Mark burst out laughing. “Sure thing. After we make out.”
***
Saturday was a dream day. I didn’t want it to end and kept checking to see how much time I had left. It was never enough, and I panicked, going through his things, trying to learn as much as I could before tomorrow morning when I would have to leave early to be home in time for church.
“Cadence, you act like this is the only time you’ll be over here,” Mark said, banging around some pans in the kitchen.