Read Online Z: A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald by Therese Anne Fowler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Therese Anne Fowler
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from old estates and then given a new life here at the inn.
Scott pulled me to him. When he kissed me, I tasted bourbon.
“How ’bout a drink for your girl?” I said.
“Are you nervous?”
“No. Yes. No,” I decided. “Not nervous. Just … It’s all so momentous. I feel like you and me … we’re this new creature just hatched into the world and there’s nobody like us and we have to figure out every little thing fresh. But that’s silly, isn’t it? People’ve been fallin’ in love and doin’ the next natural thing for eons before us.”
Scott pressed his forehead to mine. “It’s not silly at all. We are making our own path. This is momentous.” He kissed me again. “Let me pour you that drink.”
The bourbon did what bourbon can do so well, and before long, Scott was admiring that new chemise with his eyes, then his hands, then he was moving it out of the way of places he wanted to admire with his mouth. I was admiring him as well.
We went about it slowly, a little awkward at first, me giggling, him shushing me and then laughing, too. Bare skin against bare skin, we entwined ourselves, eventually fitting together exactly as Nature intended. When Scott buried his face in my neck and moved against me, all thought fled my mind. There was nothing but sensation, this profoundly primal feeling I hadn’t anticipated or even known could occur.
And while that first time lasted only a few intense minutes, it proved for certain that Scott and I had something exceptional, something irresistible to us both. For good or ill, that act, those feelings, defined everything my life was going to become.
* * *
Scott visited again in February. Again, I went to his room eagerly and in disguise. I don’t recall us saying more than Hello before we were peeling off each other’s clothes and falling into bed.
Afterward, I told him I thought I might be pregnant.
“You couldn’t possibly know the minute it happens.” He laughed.
“From before, I mean.”
He stared at me for a moment, then said, “Well, I guess neither of us has any right to be surprised. Fatherhood, though.” He shook his head. “I didn’t imagine it would happen so easily—not that I don’t want to have children.”
“Me, too.”
“It just feels awfully fast.” He shifted so that he could sit up, then lit a cigarette.
I sat up, too, pulling the sheet up to cover us both. “I know, it does.”
“Too fast. There are ways of … of managing the situation. Do you know about the, er, treatments? The pills and such?”
“Of course.”
Tallu’s sister, Eugenia—Gene—had informed us girls on this topic, along with all sorts of other salacious things that we were forever asking her to repeat. I did also learn some important things. To prevent pregnancy, there were devices and herbal teas and special rinses—none of which were considered fail-safe, and none of which I’d ever considered trying. Like Scott, I’d thought that getting pregnant would more likely take multiple exposures. It’d taken Marjorie years, after all, and Tootsie seemed to be on that same path.
And, Gene told us, to undo pregnancy there was another class of herbal teas and special rinses, along with a variety of pills that I’d seen advertised as providing “feminine relief.” No girl I knew had used any of these things, but we all talked about them. There were, we all agreed, certain kinds of women and certain kinds of situations that would benefit from such things. For example, really poor women who had too many children already. And of course prostitutes.
Scott said, “So that’s what you’ll do, then.”
“Hold on. First of all, I haven’t even seen a doctor yet—”
“It’d be better to have a year or two to ourselves. I really need time to get established. A baby in the house … I can’t imagine being able to concentrate on anything.”
“Well, sure, but since we’d eventually have ’em anyway—”
“Eventually I
Scott pulled me to him. When he kissed me, I tasted bourbon.
“How ’bout a drink for your girl?” I said.
“Are you nervous?”
“No. Yes. No,” I decided. “Not nervous. Just … It’s all so momentous. I feel like you and me … we’re this new creature just hatched into the world and there’s nobody like us and we have to figure out every little thing fresh. But that’s silly, isn’t it? People’ve been fallin’ in love and doin’ the next natural thing for eons before us.”
Scott pressed his forehead to mine. “It’s not silly at all. We are making our own path. This is momentous.” He kissed me again. “Let me pour you that drink.”
The bourbon did what bourbon can do so well, and before long, Scott was admiring that new chemise with his eyes, then his hands, then he was moving it out of the way of places he wanted to admire with his mouth. I was admiring him as well.
We went about it slowly, a little awkward at first, me giggling, him shushing me and then laughing, too. Bare skin against bare skin, we entwined ourselves, eventually fitting together exactly as Nature intended. When Scott buried his face in my neck and moved against me, all thought fled my mind. There was nothing but sensation, this profoundly primal feeling I hadn’t anticipated or even known could occur.
And while that first time lasted only a few intense minutes, it proved for certain that Scott and I had something exceptional, something irresistible to us both. For good or ill, that act, those feelings, defined everything my life was going to become.
* * *
Scott visited again in February. Again, I went to his room eagerly and in disguise. I don’t recall us saying more than Hello before we were peeling off each other’s clothes and falling into bed.
Afterward, I told him I thought I might be pregnant.
“You couldn’t possibly know the minute it happens.” He laughed.
“From before, I mean.”
He stared at me for a moment, then said, “Well, I guess neither of us has any right to be surprised. Fatherhood, though.” He shook his head. “I didn’t imagine it would happen so easily—not that I don’t want to have children.”
“Me, too.”
“It just feels awfully fast.” He shifted so that he could sit up, then lit a cigarette.
I sat up, too, pulling the sheet up to cover us both. “I know, it does.”
“Too fast. There are ways of … of managing the situation. Do you know about the, er, treatments? The pills and such?”
“Of course.”
Tallu’s sister, Eugenia—Gene—had informed us girls on this topic, along with all sorts of other salacious things that we were forever asking her to repeat. I did also learn some important things. To prevent pregnancy, there were devices and herbal teas and special rinses—none of which were considered fail-safe, and none of which I’d ever considered trying. Like Scott, I’d thought that getting pregnant would more likely take multiple exposures. It’d taken Marjorie years, after all, and Tootsie seemed to be on that same path.
And, Gene told us, to undo pregnancy there was another class of herbal teas and special rinses, along with a variety of pills that I’d seen advertised as providing “feminine relief.” No girl I knew had used any of these things, but we all talked about them. There were, we all agreed, certain kinds of women and certain kinds of situations that would benefit from such things. For example, really poor women who had too many children already. And of course prostitutes.
Scott said, “So that’s what you’ll do, then.”
“Hold on. First of all, I haven’t even seen a doctor yet—”
“It’d be better to have a year or two to ourselves. I really need time to get established. A baby in the house … I can’t imagine being able to concentrate on anything.”
“Well, sure, but since we’d eventually have ’em anyway—”
“Eventually I
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