everyone wants their bones jumped on the first date,
Chris.”
“Yes, they do. They just won’t admit it,” she
says from behind me. “Besides, I’ve never seen two people more
ready for the bedroom than you and Alec.”
I’m glad she can’t see my frown. I sit down
on the bed, gathering supplies to my side. I glance at all the
assorted tools and accoutrements. Sadly, my mani/pedi will just
have to be a fresh coat of paint. I won’t have time for anything
else now.
I pick up a bottle of red polish and shake it
vigorously.
“Well?” Chris says.
“Well what?”
“No comment?”
I shrug. “We might both want the same
thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for me.”
I draw my knee up to my chest.
“Here, give me that,” Chris says, taking the
bottle from me. “You do your nails. I’ll do your toes.” She pulls
my foot into her lap and unscrews the cap on the polish. After she
paints a few streaks of ruby lacquer on my big toenail, she blows
gently on it before speaking. “I’m not gonna pry. I figure you’ll
talk to me about whatever happened when you’re ready. But, Sam, you
need this. You need to get back out there. And this guy is into
you. What’s the problem?”
“Getting back out there is different than
jumping into a sexual relationship, Chris.” I try to remain casual
as I paint clear polish on my fingernails in slow, even
strokes.
“Let me tell you something, Sammy,” she says,
pausing in her painting to look up at me. “I’ve never seen two
people with more chemistry. It’s not a matter of if you’ll
have sex, but when you’ll have sex. I know it’s been a
while, but it’s like riding a bike. Trust me, it’s not something
you forget how to do.”
“I’m not afraid I’ve forgotten. I think
that’s more the problem. That I can’t forget.”
Chris says nothing for a minute as she
concentrates on getting a smear of red off my skin.
“Whatever it is that you refuse to talk about
won’t be fixed by avoiding it. Even if you never tell me about it,
tell someone. That’s why I wanted you to see that sex
therapist. Even women who were raped—”
“I wasn’t raped, Chris,” I interrupt. I don’t
want her mind going in that direction, although I think it’s very
curious that it did.
“Well, whatever happened, you can’t let it
ruin your life.”
“It’s not ruining my life. I—”
“Sam, when you’re afraid to date because
you’re afraid of sex, it’s ruining your life. I don’t want you to
be alone.”
I look up and meet her eyes in a moment of
bald honesty. “I don’t want to be alone either.”
“Then fix it. Take the leap.”
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
“That’s what therapy’s for. And, hopefully,
that’s what Alec is for.”
“I think we need to talk about something
else, like how happy I am that your life’s ambition wasn’t to work
in a nail salon. Did you get any polish on my actual toenail?”
“Oh, stop. They don’t look that bad,” she
assures, tilting her head to one side as she considers her
work.
“Well, they’ll have to do. I don’t have time
to repaint them,” I say with finality, hoping she’ll take the hint
and drop this conversation.
“Sam, promise me something.” Chris lays her
hand on my knee, her expression serious. “Please don’t let yourself
get in the way of happiness. Lots of people have less-than-ideal
childhoods and—”
“Less than ideal? That makes it sound like my
parents got divorced or I had to get a job at sixteen.”
“Okay, horrible. But still, you’re not the
only one who has a lot to overcome.”
Chris is right. In fact, she’s one of those
people. She has her own story from the school of hard knocks. Her
issues are just a little more…typical than mine.
“Here, blow,” I say, sticking my foot in her
face as I try to lighten the mood and change the subject.
“That’s what he said,” she says deadpan,
easing the tension and causing us both to laugh.
“All
Chris.”
“Yes, they do. They just won’t admit it,” she
says from behind me. “Besides, I’ve never seen two people more
ready for the bedroom than you and Alec.”
I’m glad she can’t see my frown. I sit down
on the bed, gathering supplies to my side. I glance at all the
assorted tools and accoutrements. Sadly, my mani/pedi will just
have to be a fresh coat of paint. I won’t have time for anything
else now.
I pick up a bottle of red polish and shake it
vigorously.
“Well?” Chris says.
“Well what?”
“No comment?”
I shrug. “We might both want the same
thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for me.”
I draw my knee up to my chest.
“Here, give me that,” Chris says, taking the
bottle from me. “You do your nails. I’ll do your toes.” She pulls
my foot into her lap and unscrews the cap on the polish. After she
paints a few streaks of ruby lacquer on my big toenail, she blows
gently on it before speaking. “I’m not gonna pry. I figure you’ll
talk to me about whatever happened when you’re ready. But, Sam, you
need this. You need to get back out there. And this guy is into
you. What’s the problem?”
“Getting back out there is different than
jumping into a sexual relationship, Chris.” I try to remain casual
as I paint clear polish on my fingernails in slow, even
strokes.
“Let me tell you something, Sammy,” she says,
pausing in her painting to look up at me. “I’ve never seen two
people with more chemistry. It’s not a matter of if you’ll
have sex, but when you’ll have sex. I know it’s been a
while, but it’s like riding a bike. Trust me, it’s not something
you forget how to do.”
“I’m not afraid I’ve forgotten. I think
that’s more the problem. That I can’t forget.”
Chris says nothing for a minute as she
concentrates on getting a smear of red off my skin.
“Whatever it is that you refuse to talk about
won’t be fixed by avoiding it. Even if you never tell me about it,
tell someone. That’s why I wanted you to see that sex
therapist. Even women who were raped—”
“I wasn’t raped, Chris,” I interrupt. I don’t
want her mind going in that direction, although I think it’s very
curious that it did.
“Well, whatever happened, you can’t let it
ruin your life.”
“It’s not ruining my life. I—”
“Sam, when you’re afraid to date because
you’re afraid of sex, it’s ruining your life. I don’t want you to
be alone.”
I look up and meet her eyes in a moment of
bald honesty. “I don’t want to be alone either.”
“Then fix it. Take the leap.”
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
“That’s what therapy’s for. And, hopefully,
that’s what Alec is for.”
“I think we need to talk about something
else, like how happy I am that your life’s ambition wasn’t to work
in a nail salon. Did you get any polish on my actual toenail?”
“Oh, stop. They don’t look that bad,” she
assures, tilting her head to one side as she considers her
work.
“Well, they’ll have to do. I don’t have time
to repaint them,” I say with finality, hoping she’ll take the hint
and drop this conversation.
“Sam, promise me something.” Chris lays her
hand on my knee, her expression serious. “Please don’t let yourself
get in the way of happiness. Lots of people have less-than-ideal
childhoods and—”
“Less than ideal? That makes it sound like my
parents got divorced or I had to get a job at sixteen.”
“Okay, horrible. But still, you’re not the
only one who has a lot to overcome.”
Chris is right. In fact, she’s one of those
people. She has her own story from the school of hard knocks. Her
issues are just a little more…typical than mine.
“Here, blow,” I say, sticking my foot in her
face as I try to lighten the mood and change the subject.
“That’s what he said,” she says deadpan,
easing the tension and causing us both to laugh.
“All
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