over the memory of what happened with Giovanni with a recollection of Bradley will only bury the experience deeper, to grow stronger later.
He clears his throat.
Silence.
“I feel sick about it. Just sick. So sick,” he continues.
Leave. Leave. Leave.
He clears his throat again. Silence.
Big sigh. Cough. He clears his throat again. “I’m going to help you and your mom not because of what happened, but because of what happened …”
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
“Okay? You get it?”
“No,” I say, both hands covering my eyes now.
Leave. Leave. Leave.
“Let’s forget it ever happened. And don’t tell anyone. Especially your ma. Ever. Okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply, and pull the blanket up over my face. And suddenly I am only sixteen.
Sixty-Three
Crystal comes over the next afternoon. She has her own key. God, does everybody feel free to just walk into our apartment?
As usual, I’m reading a book and watching a movie at the same time. Other than going to school, it’s all I’ve been doing lately.
“She’s not here,” I say when she appears in the living room doorway. I don’t even raise my eyes from the page.
“Oh, I’m not here to see your mom,” she announces, waltzing into the room. The shimmering silver Christmas star earrings she’s wearing catch the TV glare. Her big tits sway under her baggy blue T-shirt. I wish she’d wear a bra.“I’m here to see you!” She plops down beside me, too close, and then plunks a pink satin satchel down on the coffee table. I now keep my eyes locked on the TV screen; I don’t like her forcing all that huru-guru hippie stuff on me. She raises the converter and turns it off. Then she leans over and carefully unties the purple string, as if she’s about to reveal diamonds, only she ends up spilling out a bunch of blue and green rocks.
I eye them quickly, pretending not to notice how pretty they are. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction.
“I brought you these to revitalize your energy,” she says, all perky. She gingerly picks up each stone with her skinny fingers and holds it up in front of my face, blocking my view. “This one is to help with your spirit. This one will help with appetite. This one is for nourishing the starving soul. And this one is to soothe your sexual goddess.”
“Huh?” I look at her for the first time. “My what?”
She smiles that stupid smug smile, like she’s won. “Your sexual goddess within. We are all sexual goddesses, Melissa. Sometimes we women forget that—God knows I must remind your mother all the time—but we are all goddesses of the earth.”
“And they think I’m crazy,” I say, holding my hand out to take the stone.
“Mel, it’s none of my business—”
“You’re right, it’s not your business,” I interrupt her, because she has no right sticking her nose in my life.
She pouts. “But you don’t even know what I’m gonna say.”
I shrug my shoulders. I couldn’t care less.
“Well, I’m going to say it anyway. And I’m going to say it straight out. Sexual relations, Melissa, are a gift in life.”
“Oh, God …” I turn away as if her statement is making me sick.
“Hear me out, Mel. There’s a lot of crap and suffering in life, but sexual contact is a gift. It’s something that can be really beautiful and special. I’m not talking about saving yourself for marriage. Even a one-night encounter with someone you find irresistible can be gratifying. Ha!” Her voice starts to wander. “I’ve had some beautifully erotic encounters on foreign beaches under a full moon that—”
“Okay!” I interrupt again, holding my hand up to indicate stop. It’s just disgusting to hear old people talk about sex.
“Anyway. You get what I mean. The important thing is the connection between two people. If you reduce sex to something as common as a handshake, then you’re missing out on that connection. People need to connect to other people, Melissa. It’s something integral to your soul. And you need to feed your soul, Mel. Feed it, or it will die. You will die inside. You will be empty.”
I pretend I’m not listening, but I am. Because what she’s saying sort of makes sense. And if it weren’t for me being with Michael, feeling how special that was, I don’t think I would ever have come close to understanding her point.
“Tell me, Mel. Why do you think you give your body away so freely, while you hold on to your words, your feelings, so tightly? It seems