“I’m guessing you were ready by about fourteen. I’m guessing those were some long, long years.” I didn’t. I was restraining myself.
“So did you think fornication was all right, then?” Oriana asked. “Is that what your church taught you? And your mum?”
Another wild glance at me, and Gray said, “Well … not exactly. It was more focused on—well, on making sure the girl was making her own choice. That I wasn’t pressuring her. Going, uh, forward too fast. My mum, I mean. That would be the gist of her message. That, and the, ah, birth control aspect.”
“When did you first do it?” Oriana asked.
Now, Gray looked hunted. He said, “Uh …”
I said, “That’s not really a question you ask, Obe— I mean, Oriana. It’s too personal.”
“Oh,” she said. “Sorry. I thought, as we were talking about it …”
“No,” Gray said. “You’re right. I was, well …” He grinned. Sheepishly. “Sixteen. But the girl was seventeen. Making her own choice. And we did use, ah, protection.”
He was sweating. I was sure he was sweating.
“Oh,” Oriana said. “But I thought you said …”
“Tell her, Daisy,” Gray said. “I’m not too useful here.”
“Oh,” I said sweetly, “I thought you were doing very well. Very informative. And what do I know about growing up Outside?”
“You know about choosing,” he said. “So explain it to her. About letting the fella know what you want. You told me you didn’t swipe right, for example. I understood that well enough. Meant you weren’t one for casual sex.”
“You said that?” Frankie asked.
“In context,” I said. “Gray made a joke, and I … answered. In context.”
“Signals,” Gray said. “You send signals. Or you just come out and say what you’re thinking, or hint it, even. Usually it’s more of a hint. Daisy can explain. She knows.”
“So do you, Daisy?” Fruitful—Frankie—asked. These were the first questions she’d asked since Gray had described the phone call, and it was good she was asking. If nothing else, this conversation would be distracting her from worrying about Gilead.
“Do I what?” I asked.
“Do you say what you want to do,” she said. “Or don’t want to do.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes what?” she asked. “I mean, how do you say? How do you explain? Especially if it’s somebody like Gilead?”
“First,” I said, “you don’t go out with somebody like Gilead, full stop. And then you … I …” I didn’t exactly want to say, Then you’re on the couch and he puts his hand on your leg, and you freeze up, and he gets the message and buggers off pretty smartly.
“How long did it take you?” she asked.
“To what?”
“To, you know,” she said. “To want to have sex. Because I can’t imagine ever wanting to do it again.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I just sat there.
We needed to have a discussion about boundaries. What you asked and what you didn’t, in what seemed like an unbelievably permissive culture where you could ask anything.
How had I learned that?
Well, by making mistakes, probably. By asking the wrong thing, stepping over the boundaries.
After a minute, Gray said, “Nobody’s asked me what I said to Gilead, after he got done with all the Hell and brimstone and damnation and so forth. I particularly enjoyed ‘She-Devil.’ That was special. But here I am, waiting to tell you the next part. That was going to be my big finish.”
“Oh,” I said gratefully. “Tell us. I hope it’s good.”
“Short and to the point,” Gray said. “I told him if I saw his face again, or if my mum saw it, or if any of you saw it, I’d kick his arse. He wants to stay in Mount Zion? Then stay there. I thought that was the whole point of the place. I told him I was going to find out everything he’d done to both of you, so I could do it to him.”
“You’d be in prison,” I said.
He sighed. “I’m not going to do it. I’m going to make him think I’ll do it. Men who hurt women don’t much fancy getting hurt themselves, and he’s had a look at me. Ran away as fast as his legs could carry him, too. I reckon he’ll run again. And I’ve got a question.”
“Yes?” I asked. Warily, you could say. I didn’t want to revisit the question of how long it had taken me to want to have sex.
He asked, “Did anybody make pudding?”
35
Daisy: 0
Gray
She’d pulled back. She’d put her foot in my lap, and then she’d pulled back. And I didn’t think