posted November 3, 2005 (revised November 8, 2006)
page 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6
"Thea," Paula murmured. Pause. "Thea," she said a little louder.
You looked to your right at her. She had a queasy grin on her face. The grin disappeared. You still remember the song that had started playing at that moment: side 1, track 2, "A Sip of Your Bubbly," whose lyrics consist of "I'll love you right / And love you doubly / If I can just have / A sip of your bubbly" repeated ad infinitum by the group's oily-sounding male singer over woozy-sounding Caribbean percussion.
"I had my worst dream ever last night," she said.
"Really?" you asked. "What about?"
"I dreamt I came home from school to find Charles Manson standing in the living room. 'Hi,' he said. He'd just murdered my parents, I don't know how. Their bodies were laying behind him on the carpet�.Living room, ha. Get it?...Blood was all over the place�on the walls, on the floor, on that ugly grandfather's clock. Everywhere except on Charles Manson. He was wearing, like, a three-piece suit. He even had dress shoes on. Anyway, he pulled out a gun, put it to my head and said he'd blow my brains out if I cried just one tear. So I stood there, looking at my mom and dad, and I didn't cry, and the worst part was, it was easy. I didn't feel anything for 'em, though I knew I should."
"God. I'm sorry, Paula."
"Yeah. So I woke up crying this morning. I was in no condition to get out of bed and go to school. 'Get your butt out of bed now!' my mom yelled from downstairs. I didn't want to get up ever, but I did. I cleaned myself up, went downstairs, and was glad not to see any blood."
"Did you tell your mom or dad about the dream?"
"Hell no. They'd probably send me to the nuthouse again."
A year later, she would get rid of her Neon Knights albums, bulldog poster, and Bonkers collection but keep Red Fred. She would quit the majorette squad. She would quit talking to you. She would start wearing that black hooded sweatjacket everywhere and hanging out with the school stoners, squinting at you whenever you'd walk past them in the halls at school.
When you were 20 years old in 1985, you and your companions lay atop the bedspread, post-threeway. You lay in Julinda's arms, your head nestled below hers. Andi's head lay on your shoulder behind you. Every so often she would kiss the nape of your neck. You still wore your modern stockings.
"Julinda?" you asked. "I never got around to asking you this, but�who'd you lose your virginity to?"
"A young lady named Kris Bozin," she said. "We were both 16, juniors in high school. She was a transfer student who started attending my school in December '75. I fell for her the minute I saw her. She always smelled like aloe, and she had the cutest gap teeth I'd ever seen."
"You like gap teeth, huh? I'll have to work on my smile with a pipe wrench."
"A crowbar would work better," Andi said.
"Okay, okay," Julinda said. "In case you handymen care, I didn't make a move on her at first. I didn't know if she was gay; she always hung out with preppie boys. The school crawled with preppies. Anyway, after a week I said what the hell and asked her if she'd like to get together at my house some time to watch TV, drink cocoa, stuff like that. Maybe, say, that night? So that night she did visit me, and an hour later we were sitting on the couch in the living room, watching a lame rerun of Police Woman, when she suddenly leaned forward and kissed me. Me, the great seductress. So I kissed her back, and the rest is history, right there on the couch, though we never did get around to drinking cocoa."
"Weren't your parents home?" you asked.
"No, we were the only ones there, and I'd planned it that way. My parents were at this annual Christmas party held by their college pals, the Vanderbys. The most prestigious event of the season. The Vanderbys were the richest folks in town; they made a fortune selling mail-order lingerie."
"Wait�the Vanderby Lace catalogue?"
"The same."
"Man�I never read it, but the boys in my junior high did. They'd pass that catalogue around like they were CIA agents passing around the recipe for Pixy Stix."
"I used to borrow my parents' copy and masturbate to the women inside it. Oh, those high-class dames in drawing rooms�.Anyway, Kris and I were an item, in secret, until her family suddenly moved to a, shall we say, melanin-free community out of state in March of '76. I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye to her, nor did she leave a forwarding address or phone number. I never heard from her again. After she'd left, I cried for two weeks, in secret, until the new Vanderby Lace catalogue arrived in the mail�.Women may come and go, but you'll always have your fingers."
"Heh heh."
"Not that I regret having known her, of course."
"Of course�.So who'd you lose your virginity to, Andi?"
"Guess," she answered.
Julinda tensed up. "You don't have to�"
"It's my close-up now, Mr. DeMille!...Guess."
"I don't know," you said. "Was it Julinda?"
"Close. It was Brett Albertine, this science major from school who date-raped me in his car near Nebo Woods, a popular make-out spot for amorous young people. I was 15, he was 17. He was the first person who'd ever asked me out on a date."
"Oh God."
"Well, it wasn't really a date. I thought we were going to a movie or something, but he drove straight to Nebo Woods. I didn't care�.You know, the funny thing is, I could have kicked his ass; he looked like the Pillsbury doughboy, only paler. But the whole incident happened so fast. We were making out, not very well, I told him to stop, and suddenly�it took only fifteen or twenty seconds. Immediately after that, he took me home."
"Nice guy. Did you tell anyone?"
"Yeah, my parents, soon as I got back. They called me a whore and beat the hell out of me. No, just kidding. Everything went according to plan, like a made-for-TV movie. We hugged, and the next day they had Brett arrested and put me into therapy. He ended up copping a plea�misdemeanor sexual assault."
"Misdemeanor?!"
"First offense, plus his parents could afford a good lawyer. Three years' probation."
"God. Talk about a slap on the wrist."
"A slap on the dick's more like it. He's at MIT now and probably screws perky coeds who wear pink calculator watches�.And by the way, this little date-rape incident didn't make me a lesbian. I'd been a closet-case for years, hoping I'd turn, ugh, normal. After the incident, though, I gave up on men. I had sex with Julinda for the first time six months ago, and she was, like, the ninth or tenth woman I'd screwed�that week. And it was only Wednesday."
You waited for Julinda to say something.
GLIDE ON OVER TO PAGE 6
I like your earlier, funnier work better, Mr. Matthews....Fiction, Home.
� 2005-2006 David V. Matthews