And I am.
Figuring it out, I mean. Piece by piece, I’m learning things about myself that I never before allowed to see the light of day, and it’s scary, exciting, and eye-opening all at the same time.
Like shopping for a vibrator for the first time.
To say that I’m overwhelmed is grossly understated.
I mean, honestly, I had no idea how many different… variations there would be. Not just shape or size, but also for specified parts of your body.
With a long sigh, I drop my head back against the headboard of my bed and let out an exasperated groan.
I probably could’ve asked Lennon, my best friend, for help, but I’m not sure how I would say, “Oh, hey, Len, do you think you could help me pick out the perfect vibrator? Because I’ve never actually had an orgasm by myself before, and now that astrangerhas actually given me one, I’m on a journey of sex discovery.”
I mean, I could totally ask her since we share literally everything, and we have since we were kids, but it’s also something that I feel kind of… modest about.
Obviously, she knows that I lost my virginity to someone. I called the second I got into my car, and we squealed about it for the entire drive home, but talking to her about, you know, attempting to getmyselfoff feels completely different.
Clearly, I’m overthinking this, but my brain simply seems to operate that way.
I glance back down at the laptop open in my lap and click on a new tab, typing “Best vibrator or toy fornewlyde-virginitized woman.”
My nose crinkles with distaste at how ridiculous it sounds, even as I type it out, but I’m pleasantly surprised when the search engine immediately loads a ton of websites with much more helpful information than the page I was previously on.
There are days where I spend hours in the thrift store or my favorite local used bookstore that’s tucked away in the French Quarter, sifting through stuff that other people have deemed junk.
It’s one of my favorite things to do. Finding a hidden gem for my apartment or a book with weathered pages that tells a story of its own.
This, however, is a completely different ball game, and I’m anxious to find whatever I’m looking for and be done. I’m not even exactly sure what that is though.
I add a bunch of random things to my cart, not having the slightest clue what the purpose of half of them are, and sigh as I scroll through it.
“Maisie?” a voice singsongs through my apartment, and I freeze just as the sound of my front door slams shut. “It’s me, darling. Mama!”
Oh my God.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
My eyes widen, and in a panicked blur, I click Submit Order to check out and quickly slam my laptop shut.
What in the heck is my mother doing at my apartment in the middle of the day? While I’m buyingvibrators.
Why is she even on campus right now?
I toss my computer onto the bed beside me and scramble up, running my fingers through my hair, then smoothing them over the front of my T-shirt and shorts just as there’s a knock on my bedroom door.
In a hurry, I swing the door open, plastering on a smile. “Hey, Mama! Uh…” I trail off awkwardly. “What are you doing here?”
Her smile, which is nearly a carbon copy of my own, dims slightly, the space between her brows pinching together. “Well, I was in the area because I had to drop off some puzzles that weredonated to the retirement home, and I just figured that I would come see my daughter because it’s been so long.”
“Mama, it’s been like… two days.” I laugh lightly as I reach for her, hugging her tightly. She smells like home and familiarity. A hint of vanilla and cinnamon from all of the baking she does. It has only been two days, but I’ve missed her. “I just saw you on Sunday for church.”
When she pulls back, her blue eyes are soft. She reaches up, running her fingers gently along my hair before cupping my jaw. “I know, honey, but it feels like forever. It’s still so hard to think my darling girl isn’t just up the hallway in her bedroom.”
She says this even though I’ve been away at Orleans University for two, going on three, years now, but I guess having me home for a few weeks this summer makes leaving again feel fresh.
“I know, Mama.”
“But I also know that you need your space and your independence,” she murmurs quietly, putting a bright smile on, the same one that she wears for church.
