Page 39 of The Wilder Widows

“Well, he’s handsome, and I’m sure he could—”

“Enough about my hootie! I’m not having a hootie! Especially not with a stranger! I’m not like you. Sex is... sex is supposed to be special. Something shared between two people in love. A husband and a wife.”

Alice submitted without a fight. “You’re absolutely right, Doris. I’ve been too pushy, and this isn’t who you are. I’m sorry I tried to force it on you and that I embarrassed you. I promise I won’t push another man on you. It was all in good fun, and I see now I went too far.”

“You did go too far.” Even though my anger softened, I still tried to give her my best glare.

“We did,” Marge agreed. “And I’m sorry I laughed at you.”

“Thank you.” I wiped the last of the tears drying on my cheeks. “I just... I can’t just take a man to bed. Especially a young man like that. I’m old enough to be his grandma.”

“That you may,” Alice said, “but he thought you were beautiful. Even if you don’t take him to bed, it must still feel nice knowing a man that looks like that still finds you desirable. At least it always does for me.”

There. That unknown emotion reared up inside of me again, but this time I was able to identify it. Desire. For the first time in my life, I truly felt desire, and that just sent shame back to the top of my growing heap of emotions.

“I may be a lesbian, but I can still say he was a looker. You should be walking on cloud nine. He wanted to have his way with you.”

“That’s part of the problem!” I admitted, then buried my head in my hands. “I did like it. And I had... thoughts.” I whispered the last word and peeked out between my fingers.

“Is that so?” One corner of Alice’s lips rose and twitched in excitement. “Because if you want to–”

“No!” I ripped my hands from my face and shook my head. “No, I don’t want to... you know. But the fact I even thought about it... well, it’s shameful!”

“It’s natural, Doris. Human. There’s nothing wrong with desire,” Sylvie said. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Well, I’ve never felt desire. And now I have, and God is looking down, just shaking his head at me. He’s so disappointed.”

A snort slipped out of Marge’s nose. “Really? People are starving, killing each other, and the world has gone to hell in a handbasket, but you think God stopped everything because you pictured yourself having sex with a hot waiter?”

“God sees all.” I pointed up to the ceiling and pursed my lips.

“Well, that may be,” Sylvie said, “but then he also sees your pure heart. He won’t fault you for being human, Doris. And it is healthy. And natural. And I have a hard time believing you’ll get to the gates of Heaven and get turned away because you pictured yourself in the throes with Gabriel, the waiter.”

Her soft smile settled me, and I nodded my head, finally coming back to my senses. “Thanks, Sylvie. I needed to hear that.”

“You’re allowed to have thoughts, Doris.”

“Really? You’ve never had impure thoughts?” Alice asked, tipping her head. “Never?”

My eyebrows shot to my hairline as I shook my head. “No. Never.”

The bathroom door opened, and thudding footsteps approached. We remained silent, packed in our stall while we listened. A quick zip echoed through the room, followed by a loud stream of urine. When I heard the low cough of a man in the stall beside us, I clapped a hand over my mouth. The other three widows followed suit, and the four of us listened to the man beside us humming his tune while he finished his business. When he left, and the bathroom door thudded closed, we burst into laughter.

“Is this the men’s bathroom?” Sylvie howled between laughs.

“That was definitely a man pissing.” Marge snorted.

“I didn’t look! I just ran in here! Heavens to Betsy, we’re in the men’s bathroom, aren’t we?”

“This is probably the closest Doris is getting to a penis in Paris.” Alice dissolved into hysterics, and the rest of us joined her.

When we’d finally composed ourselves, I took one last breath to refill my lungs deflated from laughter. Sylvie reached out a hand. I took it and let her hoist me up.

“Can we get out of here before some man comes in and takes a shit?” Marge wrinkled her nose. “I’ve been beside enough shitting men in ‘Nam. It ain’t pretty.”

Our laughter converged again as we hustled out of the bathroom.

****