time Amanda’s elbow caught me on the chin and I went flying into the wall, which was even more painful than my acromioclavicular separation. But it didn’t feel good either.
What feels good:
Jason’s body on top of mine. Like clinching, but better. Less sweat, anyway. I liked putting my hands on his back and feeling the muscles there as he moved. That was maybe better than good.
A sense of closeness to him that I feel now.
This feeling now, that I’m no longer a virgin.
The knowledge that I’ve got something over Ma’s head now.
* * *
Pammy’s outside smoking when I get back. It’s the middle of the night and she’s in her lawn chair on her tiny porch, wrapped in a blanket, blowing smoke on long exhales. Even with all the smoking and periods of chain-smoking, her lung capacity is enormous, and this I know from the years of listening to her shout at Columbus.
She looks me up and down. Takes in my mussed hair and smudged mascara. Knows immediately what I’ve been up to, but it’s Pammy and she doesn’t really judge. “I hope you used protection, Trisha. Your sexual health is nothing to play around with. Did you have fun, at least?” she asks.
I don’t answer. It was…I don’t know yet. She seems to understand this.
“It can be like that sometimes. Hang on. I’ve got something for you.” She grounds out her cigarette and disappears inside. Two minutes later she comes back out with a book. “How to Find Your Bliss,” she says, handing it to me. “A woman has to be responsible for her own orgasms.”
“Oh.” There’s no hole in the ground to disappear into, but I still spend some time looking for one. I’m not sore, like I thought I might be, but I am tired.
She lights up another cigarette and gives me a small smile. “Just another thing you’ve got to take care of yourself. I keep telling my son, you have to help the woman find her pleasure, but not all mothers do that. Although they should. We women, we’ve got to look out for one another.”
I get the feeling that she’s not just talking about orgasms, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to ask now.
“Can you not tell Ma about this?” I ask.
She stares at me for a moment, then lights another cigarette. “We all have secrets,” she says.
What the hell does that mean? Is that a yes or a no? But Pammy closes her eyes and leans back in her chair and I don’t feel like pushing her. She’s either going to tell Ma or she isn’t. Nothing I can do about it now.
I go inside and crawl into the shower. There’s a bruise just below my ear that’s turned red and I try to remember if Jason had put his mouth there. He must have. I press it until I feel the blood rushing back at me to meet my fingertip. There’s that post-gym feeling now where all I want to do is sleep. The house is silent, which I take to mean Ma hasn’t noticed I was gone. Good.
After the shower, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and look from the bruise to my face as a whole. I think I see some kind of new knowledge in it. Not orgasmic knowledge, clearly. But it’s something that marks me as a woman now. I’ve had dick and, even though it wasn’t necessarily good in the way it’s supposed to be (from the pictures in Pammy’s book), it must mean something. But I don’t know what.
twenty-six
Finally, I can take my sling off. My upper body strength is seriously gone, and I know I’ve got a lot of work to do to get it back. And my shoulder hurts. After the doctor’s office, Ma drops me off at home while she goes to do some errands. I’m glad that she’s not around to hover right now.
I text Jason as soon as I get inside to tell him I don’t have a sling to worry about anymore, but he doesn’t reply. I haven’t heard from him for a few days, since the night at his dorm, really. He hasn’t called. Or texted. Or showed any signs that he’s alive.
See, this is why catching feelings is a bad idea.
Speaking of feelings, bad ones, Ravi is on the couch again. In the same spot he was in when I left yesterday. I can never look at that groove in the sofa again