“Hmmmmmm.” Her gaze focuses on me, bright and curious behind her cat-eye glasses. “Interesting.”
“How so?”
“Would you say that the first-ever-orgasm-with-a-partner thing was the best part for you, or was it something else? I mean, if you had to isolate last night to one single shining moment. What would it be?”
I pause halfway through pulling my shorts up under my robe. As far as I can tell, I’m the only person here who gives a crap if people see me naked…or even in my underwear. It’s ironic, now that I think about what I did outside last night. Then again, it was dark. Nobody there to see me.
The darkness had definite appeal—the anonymity, but also the way it made me forget myself.
I do want to see him, though. I’d brave the light for that alone. We won’t have any tonight, either, but I’d give a hell of a lot to see just one of my stranger’s expressions.
Did he look angry when he fisted my hair and pulled? Stern? Does he have a boyish face that doesn’t go at all with the rest of him? Maybe he can’t stand the idea of anyone not taking that sweet, young face seriously? Is he ugly? I wouldn’t mind that. At all. Maybe a scar or two. A big nose, a permanent grimace.
Max, who’s now standing there just staring at me, arms crossed, clears her throat.
I button my shorts, giving her a dull look, and suddenly remember that she asked me a question. Oh, right. What was the best moment?
Was it when he bit me? God, it doesn’t feel real right now. Or the second he came after me in the dark, like the very first moment I felt his presence. But then I remember how my body jumped when he gripped my pubic hair, hard, and everything sort of melts inside, from my chest to my pelvis. He took something I’ve always felt a little weird about—the fact that so many women today shave off all their hair—and flipped it right over. I’m glad I have hair for him to grab. It’s like the bra. Like the panties and the buttons on my shorts. They’re all just obstacles. Maybe the obstacles are as satisfying as the goal.
Huh.
I look at Max, suddenly serious. “Every single thing that happened was the best of that thing. Every bit of it was… I want to say good, but that’s not it. It wasn’t good, it was, like…” I’m not the best at expressing my inner self to others, but I want to find this word. I need it. “I was shook.”
Max snorts. “Shook, huh? You’re using that word now?”
“Maybe.” I grab the bright red lipstick she’s just put on and dab the slightest bit on my bottom lip, then look in her hand mirror and rub it entirely off. “I’m shaken. Definitely stirred. Also kind of crushed. Melted.” I consider. “A lot of ice things.”
“Except frozen, I hope.” She turns and eyes me up and down, puts her hand out for the lipstick and when I return it, leans in and carefully slides it over all of my mouth. And not the tint I was looking for, but a full on layer. Doing my own lipstick makes me look like a clown, but when I glance in the mirror, I don’t hate it. I picture him smearing it with his fingers, his mouth. Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe.
“You’re so gorgeous.” Max steps up and wraps her arms around me from behind. It’s not easy, given that I’ve got almost a foot on her. “When are you gonna do my tattoo?”
“When I can get the equipment.” One day. When I’ve paid off all the medical debt and managed to find a bigger place for me and Mom. Then I’ll think about my tattoo shop.
“I’m so glad you’re doing this, Grace. You’ve been so…”
I tense up. I can’t help it.
“So lost, I think, with men and love and everything.” I start to turn and she stops me. “I’m not saying this will solve all your problems or anything like that, but it’s good that you’re exploring. Finally.” Another quick squeeze. “This is you. The real you. Not the you who takes care of your mom every night or the you who yells at the debt collectors, or the version who talks to clients or those bozos you work with. This is like… You’re like the one I went to school with. The Gracie who drew pictures of everything. Everywhere. All the time. The Gracie whose hands got scratched up from making beautiful art out of trash. The Gracie who slapped Ben Fulton across the face for calling me the B word when we were ten and the Gracie who was there that night it all went to hell senior year.” I feel her shrug against my back before her hold loosens. It’s funny how my stranger held me together with his arms and now Max has done the same and she’s let me go and I can only stand here awkwardly while she plows a hole in my heart.
“I like this Gracie. I love her.” She zips the lipstick into her backpack and sucks in a deep, audible breath. “I wish you loved her as much as I do.”
My mouth is open, though I’ve got no idea what to say after that speech. It swallowed me up and spat me out and made me feel loved and seen and also sad for the life I once dreamed of. It’s funny, because of the two of us, growing up, Max definitely had it harder, and yet she’s always been truer to herself. She’s always known who she was, whereas I let life pry me away from who I wanted to be.
“Come on.” She grabs a couple condoms from her bag, slips them into my pocket, then threads her arm through mine, tugging me forward. “I’ll walk you to your mauling.”
If he shows up, of course.
9
Liev
I’m running late.It’s especially annoying, given that I hadn’t planned on meeting her at all tonight.
I tried not to.
But I knew, just as Lamé predicted, that I’d show up in the end. Then a golf cart broke down and an older camper had a nasty fall, which thankfully our on-site medical staff was able to help with. I headed back up to the house for a clean shirt and it was nearing time to be there. Now I’m racing down the path in the dark.
I should slow down, but I can’t stand the idea of leaving my mystery woman waiting there, alone. Maybe leaving before I arrive.
