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Authors: Stewart O’Nan
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sorry we'd come all that way, but they had to get the room done. He wished they weren't so busy. It was nice of us to drop by. Maybe we could get together sometime.
"You can bet on it," my dad said.
"Fantastic," Mr. Close said. "Hope to see you again soon."
22
The first time I had sex I threw up.
This was at the Sky-Vue Drive-In. in the bed of Monty Hunt's Ford Ranger. We were watching Halloween and drinking pink Champale. We'd been going out all summer, and I was going to be a junior, so I thought it was time. We'd been close before. I'd made him beg me.
I heard it hurt, so I was two bottles ahead of Monty. He had the truck backed up on the hump with the speaker hanging over the side. It was warm but the bugs were bad, and we were under a blanket. We were kissing, getting our faces wet. I was wearing anklets with little pom-poms in the back, that was all. I'd started the night with shorts and a tube top but they were gone. In my bag I had another pair of underwear.
I opened my legs and let Monty put his hand there. I think I surprised him. He dug around down there, then got on top of me; the movie was blue on his face. The music was building up to a killing. Two speakers over sat a family in lawn chairs, eating popcorn out of a giant yellow bag.
He couldn't find his way in at-first, and I had to help him. It's funny how they want it so much and then don't know what to do. I could barely feel it in me. He had his mouth open and I could see up his nose. It felt uncomfortable, almost like the beginning of cramps, and then something gave way, like when you realize you have a nosebleed. It stung, and I tipped my chin up so he couldn't see that it hurt me. The Champale wasn't working. He was pushing against my stomach; I felt like I had to go to the bathroom. Above me, upside down, Jamie Lee Curtis was riding through a graveyard with this other girl, getting stoned. Monty stopped all of a sudden and let out a hot breath right in my face and fell on top of me like he'd been stabbed. His back was sweaty, and I could feel him seeping inside me. We didn't use anything, and I knew I was going to get pregnant.
"I love you," he said, still gasping. He didn't even say my name.
And what was I supposed to say? That I felt sick, that I wished I hadn't let him?
I said it back.
"Are you okay?" he said.
I knew there would be blood but not so much. I wiped my thighs with the blanket and folded it over.
"I'm okay," I said. "I just need to clean up."
"I've got Kleenex," he said, and reached through the back window of the cab and handed me the box. He knelt there staring at me.
"Watch the movie," I said.
I stuffed some up there, but I still felt sick, so I put on my top and my old underwear and my shorts and found my clogs. Monty wouldn't leave me alone. "I'm okay," I kept telling him. "I just need to use the bathroom." He wanted to come with me, but I finally shouted at him, and he let me go.
I jumped down from the tailgate and almost fell. My legs were shaky and my stomach was churning like a washing machine. Everything down there stung. I stumbled over the dusty mounds toward the red fluorescents outlining the snack bar. It
was circular and shaped like a witch's hat, the projector in the top part. You could see the movie scissoring through the air. We were in the back, like a mile away. The last hundred feet were deserted. A green light burned on each unused speaker like an eye. Halfway there, I knew I wasn't going to make it. I stopped and leaned against a speaker pole and heaved up everything I'd eaten— -the Champale and the mustard fries, the nachos and Dots — all of it splashing hot over my Dr. Scholl's. I spit to clean my mouth and kicked dust over everything and went on.
My thighs were sticky, and getting sick had made me cry, so my face was a mess. I knew the bathrooms were by the front, so I walked around the outside and slipped in, hoping no one would see me.
Inside there was a line — seven or eight girls
"You can bet on it," my dad said.
"Fantastic," Mr. Close said. "Hope to see you again soon."
22
The first time I had sex I threw up.
This was at the Sky-Vue Drive-In. in the bed of Monty Hunt's Ford Ranger. We were watching Halloween and drinking pink Champale. We'd been going out all summer, and I was going to be a junior, so I thought it was time. We'd been close before. I'd made him beg me.
I heard it hurt, so I was two bottles ahead of Monty. He had the truck backed up on the hump with the speaker hanging over the side. It was warm but the bugs were bad, and we were under a blanket. We were kissing, getting our faces wet. I was wearing anklets with little pom-poms in the back, that was all. I'd started the night with shorts and a tube top but they were gone. In my bag I had another pair of underwear.
I opened my legs and let Monty put his hand there. I think I surprised him. He dug around down there, then got on top of me; the movie was blue on his face. The music was building up to a killing. Two speakers over sat a family in lawn chairs, eating popcorn out of a giant yellow bag.
He couldn't find his way in at-first, and I had to help him. It's funny how they want it so much and then don't know what to do. I could barely feel it in me. He had his mouth open and I could see up his nose. It felt uncomfortable, almost like the beginning of cramps, and then something gave way, like when you realize you have a nosebleed. It stung, and I tipped my chin up so he couldn't see that it hurt me. The Champale wasn't working. He was pushing against my stomach; I felt like I had to go to the bathroom. Above me, upside down, Jamie Lee Curtis was riding through a graveyard with this other girl, getting stoned. Monty stopped all of a sudden and let out a hot breath right in my face and fell on top of me like he'd been stabbed. His back was sweaty, and I could feel him seeping inside me. We didn't use anything, and I knew I was going to get pregnant.
"I love you," he said, still gasping. He didn't even say my name.
And what was I supposed to say? That I felt sick, that I wished I hadn't let him?
I said it back.
"Are you okay?" he said.
I knew there would be blood but not so much. I wiped my thighs with the blanket and folded it over.
"I'm okay," I said. "I just need to clean up."
"I've got Kleenex," he said, and reached through the back window of the cab and handed me the box. He knelt there staring at me.
"Watch the movie," I said.
I stuffed some up there, but I still felt sick, so I put on my top and my old underwear and my shorts and found my clogs. Monty wouldn't leave me alone. "I'm okay," I kept telling him. "I just need to use the bathroom." He wanted to come with me, but I finally shouted at him, and he let me go.
I jumped down from the tailgate and almost fell. My legs were shaky and my stomach was churning like a washing machine. Everything down there stung. I stumbled over the dusty mounds toward the red fluorescents outlining the snack bar. It
was circular and shaped like a witch's hat, the projector in the top part. You could see the movie scissoring through the air. We were in the back, like a mile away. The last hundred feet were deserted. A green light burned on each unused speaker like an eye. Halfway there, I knew I wasn't going to make it. I stopped and leaned against a speaker pole and heaved up everything I'd eaten— -the Champale and the mustard fries, the nachos and Dots — all of it splashing hot over my Dr. Scholl's. I spit to clean my mouth and kicked dust over everything and went on.
My thighs were sticky, and getting sick had made me cry, so my face was a mess. I knew the bathrooms were by the front, so I walked around the outside and slipped in, hoping no one would see me.
Inside there was a line — seven or eight girls
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