Read Online Revolting Youth: The Further Journals of Nick Twisp by C. D. Payne - Free Book Online Page B

“What’s she wearing? She couldn’t possibly have gotten married looking like that! My God, what’s that on her feet?”
    “It was cold there, honey. They were having the Blizzard of the Century.”
    “But, why!” she cried. “Why did they get married?”
    “Beats me. Don’t tell anyone, but I think Apurva may be, you know, in a family way.”
    Sheeni pulled away as I tried to embrace her. She tossed the photo back at me and curled up in a ball, facing the wall.
    “When did they do it?” she asked, burying herself in the quilt.
    “Friday.”
    “Mississippi, huh? Then it’s not a real marriage. It doesn’t count in California. It’s not valid in civilized regions.”
    “They are legally married, Sheeni. And I am very, very tired.”
    No answer. I stood up and started removing my clothes. I could hear muffled sobbing from under the quilt.
    I switched out the light and got into bed. I stared up at the ceiling and listened to My Love cry bitter tears for another man. I no longer felt like sleeping. Eventually, she rolled over and faced me.
    “I’ve been in love with Trent since I was five years old. Do you know why I broke up with him?”
    “I assume because I came along.”
    “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s because you can’t spend your whole life with someone you met when you were in kindergarten. It’s just not done.”
    “Oh.”
    First time I heard that rule.
    “Is that all you can say?”
    “Sheeni, I love you. I will always love you. And I don’t give a damn that we met in junior high school.”
    She slid her arms around me and pressed her soft warm body against mine.
    “Oh, Nickie, I want you to make love to me … now … without a condom.”
    Thrilled, François kissed her. “Isn’t that rather reckless, darling?” I asked.
    “It’s reckless and it’s necessary.”
    And so, diary, I joined at last with My Love as nature intended—secretions undammed, flesh against flesh, being to being. After a gloriously unfettered sensory implosion, we fell asleep in each other’s arms—as entwined as two people could ever be.
    Hours later I awoke with an arm pinned painfully under 112 pounds of exquisite girl. Extracting the mangled limb, I lay awake in the dark and thought about what Sheeni had said. Some of it was pretty awful, but at least she finally confessed to loving someone. Too bad it had to be Trent. Still, her heart clearly does embrace the concept of love. That means she is theoretically capable of loving other people (me, for example). And she did have unprotected sex with me. Pretty shocking, but I’m not exactly sure what it all means, except that my genes are thrilled. Here’s another question: Does some of it stay in there or does it all dribble out on the sheet?
    10:45 a.m. Sorry, God, church was just not on our agenda today. I microwaved some frozen tamales, and we breakfasted in bed with the Sunday paper. My dad, I’m semi-happy to report, has been sprung from jail. Authorities now believe the virus was planted on his computer by “technologically sophisticated eco-terrorists.” The page-one article noted that former suspect George W. Twisp has divulged to police that “a large sum of money and many valuable items” had disappeared recently from his home. What a liar!
    While Sheeni took a leisurely hot bath, I made a call to keep my half of the bargain.
    “Hello, Vijay,” I said, “let me speak to your father.”
    “Who is this?”
    “None of your fucking business.”
    Mr. Joshi came on the line. I gave it to him short and sweet.
    “Your daughter is honeymooning with Trent in the South. She’ll be home on Wednesday.” Click.
    Bet I made their day.
    2:35 p.m. Sheeni just left in a huff because I refused to divulge Trent’s exact location in Mississippi. My Love expressed a desire to phone the twit. As if a guy needs to interrupt his romantic honeymoon to take a call from a former girlfriend, even if all she claimed she wanted to do was “wish them both hearty