“Mad at myself. I knew you were a virgin.”
It shamed me that he knew and now, because of it, we were lying two feet apart instead of on top of each other. “What makes you think that?”
He turned his head toward mine. A slight smile shaped his lips.
“I know I said it’s a sin in our family, but I’m not psycho about it. I don’t really think it’s a sin. I—”
“Shh.” He rolled toward me, pressing a finger to my lips.
The image of a gorgeous Shelly appeared out of nowhere. “I guess you’re not a virgin,” I said.
A long pause stretched into nowhere before he answered. “No.”
I wished for the courage to sayDid you lose your virginity with Shelly? Or was it with someone else?But I couldn’t make myself say it. The words I did say were something I instantly regretted. “Couldn’t you just, you know, maybe pull out before—”
“No way. I’m not willing to take that chance. Are you?”
“No. Of course not,” I said.
Yet I was. It was crazy to think about how willing I was to take that chance—how quickly I would have compromised myself—just to be close to him. Just to feel his love. Just to have my first time be with him. Even there in that rank cow pasture with strangers close by, doing the same thing.
I had dreamed my first time would happen differently—with ahusband—yet I was perfectly willing to tempt fate. Without thinking about it, much less praying about it, I had taken off my clothes at an outdoor music festival and given myself over to ... what ...love? Or could it have been lust?
As I lay there, with my arms covering my bare chest, a sharp pang of remorse strangled my throat. I was disappointed, not only in what had happened but in myself. From there the remorse snowballed into fear. Fear that Leon still had feelings for Shelly. Fear that I’d never see him again. Fear that I would never find anyone as cool and wonderful as Leon Wright. As much as I tried holding them back, tears welled up in my eyes.
I could see him looking at me from the corner of my eye.
“Why are you crying?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I lied, then rolled over on my stomach to hide myself. “I guess I’m just disappointed.”
In one motion, he reached over and pulled me back on top of him. Once again, my hair spilled across his face. After sweeping it away, Ifolded my arms on top of his chest and buried my head. I couldn’t look at him.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he said tenderly. “Please don’t cry.”
How could you tell a boy you just met that your head was warring against your heart? That you sincerely wanted your first time to be with him, even in a cow pasture, even though his first time was with someone else? How could you let him know that telling him goodbye in less than twenty-four hours would rip your heart down the middle?
Perhaps he read my mind. He tapped my nose, then rolled me onto my back. “We could still have fun without birth control. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
“Show me,” I whispered, then reached up to kiss his lips.
Woodstock
Day Three
Sunday, August 17, 1969
Noon
An hour later I awoke sore.
For the first time in my life, I had an achy chin and imagined it a bright ruby red. I’d seen red chins on my friends coming home from making out all night but had never been able to boast one of my own. The ache made me deliriously happy.
Leon’s heavy breathing was more reassurance I was not dreaming. With his arms around my body, my cheek burrowed inside his neck, I was very much awake. And very much alive. Every time the air left his nostrils, a draft warmed my ear. I never wanted the memory of us lying together under a warm, partly sunny Woodstock sky to fade. For that matter, I never wanted to move again.
I ogled the hair on his forearm, exactly the color of the hair on his head. Noticing the dirt underneath his fingernails—and mine—conjured up an unwanted image of Dad. He would have never stood for dirt underneath my fingernails. It made me even prouder of myself for taking charge of my own life. And for having dirty fingernails.
Seconds later, panic eclipsed my happiness. How many hours did we have left? Would we part after Jimi Hendrix closed the show tonight? Or would we spend another night together and say goodbye in the morning? Imagining our farewell punched a hole in my lung. I could hardly breathe. How could I do it? Leon was the coolest, most beautiful person I’d ever known.
