Anatomy of a Boyfriend (24 page)

―I was going to wrap it and give it to you tomorrow, but after you called I thought I‘d bring it over now as a ‗congrats on not being p.g.‘ gift, hoping it was a false alarm. And now that it‘s officially Christmas—‖

―Oh, Dom! Thank you so much! Matisse is Joel‘s favorite too.‖ As she flips through the pages her expression turns from ecstatic back to somber. ―I, um—‖ She holds the book to her chest and looks at me guiltily. ―I made your Christmas gift.‖

―You painted me something?‖

―It was an acrylic portrait…of you and, well…I assume you‘d rather not have it now?‖

―Oh, Ames. I—‖ I cover my face in my hands as the tears come. ―I feel so bad. I really don‘t think I can look at it right now. I‘m so sorry. I‘m really touched you did that. He probably would have been too. Shit.‖

―It‘s fine, Dom, I‘m not offended. It wasn‘t one of my best.‖ She laughs. ―Anyway, after everything happened, I bought you something instead.‖ Amy opens her closet and hands me a wrapped box. ―I thought it might help.‖

I start pulling at the bow, but Amy grabs my arm. ―Actually, don‘t open it until you‘re home.

And make sure you‘re alone.‖

―Why?‖

―Trust me on this one.‖

39

A
t half past midnight I‘m on my bed opening Amy‘s present. The photograph on the packaging shows a man holding some kind of bulbous wand to his neck. I flip the box over—the label reads

―personal massager.‖ I guess she really was concerned about my sore back.

I plug the power cord into the outlet behind my nightstand and lie down on my stomach. I take the massager and run it over my shoulders and spine. It doesn‘t feel that great and the buzzing noise is beyond annoying. I also can‘t maneuver it without twisting my arms behind my back, which only makes the original pain worse. What a piece of junk.

I switch it off and flip over, wondering how I can tell Amy I‘m going to return it. But why was it important to her that I open this when I‘m alone?

Then it dawns on me. Like Amy really gives a damn about my sore muscles. God, I‘m slow.

But how can she actually expect me to use this now, after everything that‘s happened? Because of Wes, I feel more miserable, hopeless, and perpetually nauseated than I knew was humanly possible. Grandma‘s death is looming over my family. My heart rate still hasn‘t returned to normal since Amy‘s pregnancy scare. Not to mention the fact that my parents are in the very next room. I‘ve never been less in the mood to attempt to have my first orgasm, with a vibrating piece of plastic, no less.

On the other hand…maybe that‘s the whole point. To do something separate from all of that, for myself and by myself. To take back control of my body in some small way.

But what if I use this and it just doesn‘t work? If man and machine both fail, maybe there really is something wrong with me. That will only make me feel worse.

I‘ll never know unless I try.

I leap up and lock my door. Then I throw the empty box into the back of my closet where no one will see it. Next I go to my computer to load a playlist of MP3s to drown out the buzzing sound.

Finally I draw the shades over my window so no one in the neighboring apartment building can see in.

I kick off my jeans and toss them on my desk chair. After a quick mental debate, I take off my undies too. I pull up my covers and tuck my gift in underneath. I decide to go for the gold, so I set the massager on high and rest it between my legs.

Holy!

My body scoots away so fast I bang up against the headboard. That was way too intense.

I think I need a little buffer, so I decide to place the massager on the other side of the blanket. I also turn the setting down to the lowest level and take things more gradually this time. I set the massager on my calves first. Then my thighs. Then up over my pubic hair. Meanwhile, I slowly tickle my belly and breasts with my left hand. I can‘t believe I am doing this! It‘s like I‘m seducing myself, and the thought makes me laugh out loud.

I close my eyes and try to relax. After a few minutes I spread my legs and rest the head of the massager over my genitals. It feels promisingly good. There‘s certainly something new and different here that I‘d felt only hints of before with Wes—heavier tingles, and a deep pulsing.

Soon a pleasant weakness spreads down my arms and legs. I definitely don‘t want to stop.

Almost instinctively, with my right hand I start to move the machine up and down, from the top of my pubic hair line to the sheets. It feels good everywhere, but I start narrowing in on one particular spot, right above my vagina. More tingles and pulses. My heartbeat quickens, and I hold my breath. Suddenly it‘s as if a huge passageway opens up down there and all my body‘s energy is racing toward it. Then, an eruption. My hips thrash up and down like crazy, and I grunt as if I have just been kneed in the stomach.

I toss the massager aside as the heavenly pleasure continues to wash over my body. I moan again as I feel my lips and cheeks contort. After four or five seconds, the undulating spasms stop, and it‘s like I‘m…floating.

After a moment of sheer shock, I begin to cry. Crying for everything—relief that I‘m capable of coming; regret that I hadn‘t done this to myself sooner; sadness I couldn‘t share it with Wes; and more than anything, gratefulness that, for a few seconds at least, I forgot all about him. Then, out of all my feelings, one rises to the top. Curiosity. Could I do this again? And could it be even better?

My tears subside as I reach for the massager. I conjure up my fantasy of being chased on the beach, except this time Amy‘s stepbrother subs in for Wes. I sweep the machine up and down again and again, and just when it starts feeling amazing, I take it away, stop for a moment, and start again. I do this for what seems like forever until I finally let myself come.

―Dom, you okay in there?‖ I hear Dad ask from the other side of my door.

―Yeah,‖ I struggle to say. ―I bumped my shin against the stupid desk. Sorry I woke you.‖

―Well, be careful. And Dom, can you turn down your music? Mom and I are trying to sleep.‖

―Sure, Dad.‖ I stifle a giggle as I stagger to the speakers.

I unplug Amy‘s present and hide it in the bottom drawer of my nightstand beneath a couple of bathing suits. Soon the clock strikes one, and I smile, realizing this has been an okay Christmas no matter what happens or how I feel in the morning. It‘s like I have just discovered a new color, or have finally grown into my skin. I can‘t blame Amy for being unable to describe an orgasm, because it‘s so…all over the place, like a combination of receiving a foot massage, jumping on a trampoline, getting tickled, rolling downhill, and peeing after holding it in for three hours.

Imagine all that concentrated into a few divine seconds. The human body really is incredible.

Despite my newfound power, not one second of winter break passes without my wanting him back. Although I manage to ride my bike every day, my heart stops whenever I see a blue Explorer turn the corner. I‘m constantly checking my cell phone to see if he called. And I write him dozens more e-mails—some angry, some apologetic, some just pure begging—which I have the sense never to send. When Mom comes into my room the night before I go back to Tulane and sees my eyes are red from crying again, she loses it.

―That‘s it, I just can‘t take it anymore! It‘s been three weeks and you‘re still miserable! You‘re so much better than this, Dommie. If he can‘t see how wonderful you are, then he‘s the one with the problem, not you!‖ She looks at me with doting but frustrated desperation. ―I don‘t want to sound harsh, honey, but
cancel and move on, damn it
!‖

I‘m not mad at her. She just has no idea. It‘s actually kind of cool that there‘s an area of life where I‘m actually more experienced than my own mother.

―Mom. Everything you‘re saying makes sense. Perfect sense. But what happened to me in the last year is something not based on sense.‖

―What‘s it based on, then? What‘s the solution?‖ Her voice is cracking.

―I‘m not sure, but I can‘t automatically stop loving him.‖

―I just hate seeing my baby this way.‖ Tears start rolling down her cheeks, and she covers her face with her hands as she sits down on the bed. ―And there‘s nothing I can do to help you.‖

I sit down next to her and put my arms around her. I know what she‘s really crying about.

After a minute Mom blurts out, ―I just miss her so much, Dommie.‖

―I know, Mom. I miss Grandma too.‖

―And I miss knowing you. I used to know everything you were going through back in high school. Or I thought I did. And now—‖

I hug her tighter. ―Mom, you still know me. You didn‘t lose both of us.‖ I hand her a tissue.

―You know what Grandma would say to us if she were here, right?‖

She blows her nose and shakes her head. ―What?‖

―Sit up straight.‖

We both laugh, and we do.

40

N
ew Orleans is its prettiest in April. It‘s sunny but not too hot, breezy but not windy, and everywhere you go on Tulane‘s campus, century-old oak trees shade the lush lawns. At any one time, dozens of students are amassed on the quads to socialize, study, or sunbathe. I‘m walking across a quad myself when I hear a familiar voice behind me.

―Hey, Cruella. I‘m baa-ack.‖

―Calvin?‖ I swing around. He looks the same, though a new short haircut plays up his dimpled cheeks, which I never noticed before today. ―Hey! Your semester‘s over already?‖ I gesture to my armload of books. ―We still have finals.‖

―Yep. Just flew in a couple days ago. I‘m working for Res-Life this summer, so they‘re already putting us up to get things ready.‖ He smiles. ―I see you managed to survive without me.‖

―Yes, but the dorm wasn‘t quite the same without you around terrorizing the female freshman student body,‖ I joke. Truth is, I‘d all but forgotten about Calvin, but it‘s still good to see him after all this time. I tell him I‘m on my way to the library to meet with my study group. He offers to walk with me.

―So?‖ I prod him. ―How was Paris?‖

―France rocked so much that I won‘t demean it by trying to summarize the whole experience during one short walk. I‘ll require an entire evening to regale you with my stories.‖

―Uh-huh. Didn‘t you promise to IM me with some of those stories while you were gone?‖

―I wanted to, but I felt bad about coming on so strong before, so I thought I‘d keep my distance while I was at a distance.‖

I‘m not sure how to respond to that, so we walk in awkward silence for a few seconds.

―Anyway,‖ he goes on, ―you still premed?‖

―Yep. In fact, over spring break my best friend‘s mom introduced me to a surgeon friend of hers, who let me shadow him in the hospital. It got me really psyched for it, so I‘ll be here over the summer too, taking more bio classes.‖

―Will your guy be coming down?‖

―Who? Oh…‖

The fact that it takes me a whole second to register who he‘s talking about stops me in my tracks. I glance down at my watch: 10:12 a.m. I woke up at 9:45. I‘d absolutely no thoughts of Wes until Calvin mentioned him just now. That‘s twenty-seven whole minutes! My previous record was eleven.

―Uh-oh,‖ Calvin says hesitantly. ―I said something I shouldn‘t have.‖

―Huh? Oh, no. Not at all.‖ We resume walking. ―He and I are kaput, just as you predicted, Oh Wise One.‖ I smirk at him, knowing this is probably music to his ears. Weird how the cause of my misery could be good news for someone else.

―I‘m really sorry to hear that.‖ He looks at me seriously.

―Yeah, it sucks…. In all fairness he‘s not a bad person, and we had some good times. He wanted to stay friends, but it‘ll be a while before I‘m ready for that, if ever.‖

―Hmm.‖ He nods his head sympathetically. ―So, sorry if I‘m insensitive for asking, but have you dated anyone since?‖

―Well, I sort of swore off guys. Not for forever or anything. I just wanted to get used to being by myself again.‖

When we arrive at the library, Calvin asks, ―So…when do you think you‘ll be ready to break your man fast? Tonight too soon?‖

I laugh at how he hasn‘t changed at all. ―Well, the thing is I‘m sort of having a girls‘ night out.

One of my friends from chemistry just broke up with her high school boyfriend, coincidentally enough, so a bunch of us are taking her to the Quarter.‖

―How about tomorrow, then? Remember I mentioned how some friends and I meet every week to play team trivia? I can tell you about France then too.‖

―Actually, yeah, that sounds really fun. I‘ve been craving Science Quiz lately.‖

―Wow, that‘s the nerdiest thing I‘ve heard all year. I love it. So I‘ll—‖

―But Calvin…‖ I redistribute my books so I can lay my hand on his arm. ―Just so we have everything out in the open from the very beginning…I honestly don‘t know if I‘m ready to go out with you or anyone yet. This isn‘t a brush-off, I swear to God. I still haven‘t totally moved on, so I don‘t know if—‖

―Hey, hey, don‘t get all worked up. We can just be friends. I mean that.‖

I nod. ―Okay. Cool.‖

―For now.‖ He winks at me.

―Whatever.‖ I smile and roll my eyes at him. ―Just make sure to be in touch about when and where to meet up with you tomorrow.‖

―You can count on it.‖ He turns around, but then he looks at me over his shoulder. ―By the way, that‘s a nice ring, Cruella,‖ he says before taking off. ―Matches your eyes.‖

―Thanks!‖ I yell out after him. ―It‘s an heirloom.‖

As soon as he walks away, I take out my phone to text Amy:
27 min! GO ME!

When I pressSEND I well up with pride. After a torturous winter break and a lonely semester, I still managed to achieve twenty-seven whole minutes of Wes-free tranquility. That‘s one thousand six hundred and twenty seconds! I might even have gone longer if Calvin hadn‘t brought him up. It‘s miraculous I was able to check e-mail this morning without hoping for the

―come back to me‖ message I‘ll never get.

And who knows? If Wes had never stopped loving me, maybe, just maybe, I would have eventually stopped loving him. Then the burden would have been on me to end the relationship. I would hate to have to hurt someone I once loved. This couldn‘t have been easy for Wes either.