by Rusk, Day
I wanted to say something, but didn’t. It sounded like things had gotten a little worst than even I expected. I wasn’t quite sure what she meant when she said she didn’t know what he might be capable of, and really didn’t want to push her to elaborate. I got the sense that based on this conversation with her parents; she had witnessed a side to them she’d never experienced before – a shocking side that unnerved her.
“And my brother and sister,” she continued, “They said nothing. They were there. They could have supported me; intervened, but they said nothing. It was unreal; even in the middle of it all; I took a moment, and couldn’t believe this was my family, this was us; that this could possibly be happening.”
“I’m sorry, Safia,” I said.
I didn’t know what else to say. She was still lost in her head; even as she spoke with me, telling me what little she did, I could see that in another part of her mind, she was reliving the scene at her home over and over again. She was in pain.
“Safia,” I said, reaching across the table and taking her two hands into mine. “I meant everything I said.”
She snapped a bit out of her thoughts and looked at me.
“This isn’t the right time to say it, not officially for the first time, but...well...I love you. I meant what I said; you have a home with me. You’re not alone. I love you.”
Nothing about this relationship was normal. While we had danced around the concept of love in the past, the first time you tell a woman you love her shouldn’t be because of an incident like what Safia had gone through tonight. It should be a wonderful, tender moment, with the two of you happy; it should be told to her under the moonlight while walking along the Lakeshore, not in some donut shop with her upset and a suitcase tucked under the table. It was all wrong, but for us, I guess, it was all right; the way it had to be.
“Can we go to your place?” she asked.
“Not my place,” I corrected her, “our place. Home.”
Once again she tried to work up a small smile; it did its best to cut through the hurt, but failed; it was time to go home.
That first night with Safia was tough. There’s something about seeing someone you love in pain, and not being able to do anything about it, that really cuts you to the core. You want to find those magic words that once you utter them they’d take the hurt away. They just don’t exist.
When we first arrived home, Safia seemed tentative – uncomfortable. We sat down at the kitchen table and I made a pot of tea. Slowly she began to tell me about her evening; her parent’s reaction to me. It had gotten pretty ugly between them, a lot being said. It all had ended with her Father kicking her out of her family home; she said she’d just barely been able to throw together some clothes; he had intended to just send her packing with the clothes on her back. These kinds of strong sentiments had never reared their ugly heads before in her family dynamic. It had been shocking and surprising, which might have also accounted for her sister and brother’s silence. I’m sure they didn’t know what to make of it all. What they thought was just going to be another evening together had suddenly turned into, for lack of a better description, a shit storm.
As the evening progressed, Safia lightened up; the initial shock of what had gone on between her and her parents settling in her mind; she was still hurting, but not as badly as she was earlier. I assumed she was starting to accept what had happened.
Safia had gone out on a limb; let’s face it, even though I had told her we could move in together and I wanted to, she had no idea if I was truly sincere. I could just be saying that and when push came to shove I could have very easily changed my mind and walked away. And then where would she have been? Homeless? Alone? She took a big chance, and I’m sure part of what had been weighing heavily on her mind in the donut shop, besides the events of the evening, was seeing me and seeing if I had truly meant what I had said. She had turned to me, but wasn’t sure if I’d rise to the occasion or let her down. The weight of the world and more must have been resting on her shoulders in that donut shop. Now that we were home, she could relax a little bit and talk about what had happened. I’d come through for her. I knew I would, but I’m sure she had her own personal doubts and fears in that regard.
As the evening progressed, I even managed to make her laugh from time to time. The hurt was still there in her eyes, but not as strong as it had been. I’d caused this woman so much pain and it broke my heart. To see her smile again; to hear her laugh, offered me hope that the damage to her being could be repaired.
Safia and I sat at the kitchen table into the wee hours of the morning. We talked and talked; and we finally got around to talking about that one thing that all couples eventually address – sex.
Based on the events of the evening, sex was the last thing on my mind. I never expected the evening would lead to the two of us in bed together; actually, there was no way it could, as I wouldn’t allow it. To make love to Safia that night would be the equivalent of taking advantage of her. In the back of my mind, I’d always believed that I had preyed upon her – using her hurt and distress to get her into bed. It wouldn’t be right – definitely not for our first time.
Obviously, being at my place, she wasn’t sure what I expected. Maybe she thought that if she was going to be staying with me, it would be expected; the price of admission so to speak. For some men it probably would be.
“If I’m going to be staying here with you, I...”
She seemed hesitant. I’m sure she wasn’t sure that what she was about to say was going to change her circumstances and maybe get her kicked out of a second home on this night.
“...well...I’m not ready yet for a physical relationship; I can’t sleep with you. Not yet.”
She was looking at me, desperately trying to gauge my thoughts; trying to determine if she had just lost a place to stay. I smiled.
“I have a guest room. It’s all yours,” I said.
Once again, and probably for the second time that night, the weight of the world left her shoulders and she relaxed a bit more.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that...”
I stopped her there.
“There’s no need to explain anything,” I interrupted, “more tea?”
She nodded her head and I got up and refilled both our mugs.
“We’ve never actually talked about this,” I said, as I sat back down, “but, have you ever been with a man? Are you a virgin?”
I’d taken her by surprise. She looked at me, a smile crossing her face.
“You were hoping for a virgin, is that it?”
“No, it’s just that, I don’t know, based on your culture and what not; your strict parents, I assume you really haven’t dated a lot before.”
“I imagine my being a virgin would be one of the selling points if I were to get into an arranged marriage,” she said.
I just looked at her; she wasn’t answering the question.
“No, I’m not a virgin,” she finally said. “Does that bother you?”
“Of course not.”
“How about you?” she asked with a smile.
“No, I can safely say that ship has sailed.”
“How many partners?” she asked.
“Let’s see. About seven or eight, I believe.”
“Seven or eight? You don’t know?”
“I’ve never kept count. Shall I go into the bedroom and count the notches on my headboard?” I asked.
“I thought all guys kept count.”
“A lot do. I don’t know, I was never in it for the sex. Don’t get me wrong the sex was important, but that was never my ultimate goal. I was never the type to just jump into bed with anyone. A few of my friends thought I was weird. I remember one party I was at, around the corner from my friend’s apartment. There was this girl there and she was obviously into me, but although she was nice, I really wasn’t that into her. My buddy, seeing how she was acting offered me the keys to his apartment; he figured I had an easy conque
st. You should have seen the look on his face when I turned him down. If I had taken that girl to his place to sleep with her, I would have been just doing so to have sex, or add another notch to my belt. I really wasn’t interested in her, and had no desire to pursue a relationship with her, so it would just be a case of using her for some personal pleasure and then never speaking with her again. I’m sure that wouldn’t be what she was expecting if she came back to that apartment with me. She’d take it as a sign of interest, and then when she discovered the truth, would probably hate herself for sleeping with me. I don’t know where this came from. I guess it was how my Father taught me to be with women. I’m just not looking for a good time, and grabbing it whenever it presents itself.”
“Really?” she said.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve thought back to some of those times and kicked myself for not being a horndog. No one wants to be a Boy Scout, they’re boring. Nonetheless, that’s who I am, I guess.”
“What about your first time?” she asked.
“You really want to know?”
She nodded her head, ‘Yes.’
“It’s not that impressive,” I offered.
“You didn’t rock her world?”
I laughed. “To rock someone’s world you really have to know what you were doing. I didn’t. It was when I was a senior in high school. It was a girl I had met at a school dance. A slow song was playing so I asked her dance. When it finished a fast song started up, and that’s when I used my move...”
“You have a move?” she asked, smiling.
“...I do. You see, I can’t fast dance; always thought I looked silly trying to do so, so I also tried to avoid it whenever possible. So when that slow dance turned to a fast dance, and she moved to do that, I grabbed her and continued dancing slow. When she asked me what I was doing, I just explained to her that I didn’t want to stop holding her. Sure, she’s somewhat embarrassed that we’re the only two on the dance floor dancing slow, but that line always melted them; worked every time.”
“Maybe you were a horndog.”
“I got that girl’s number; turns out she had a very strict father. Believe it or not, I actually had to call her father after I’d asked her out and ask for his permission to take her out.”
“Indian girl?” she asked.
“No, I believe European, somewhere over there. Anyway, I did and he said, ‘Yes.’ You see, I’m good with fathers, even the strict ones. I remember I picked her up and we were heading for a local restaurant; we were going to get a bite to eat and catch a movie. My first clue that things were going to be different on that date was when she asked me, I’d say about two to three minutes into the date, how long I thought couples should wait before having sex after they’ve met.”
“And you said,” she asked.
“I looked at my watch and said, two to three minutes. I can pull over.”
She laughed.
“The question actually took me by surprise; and seriously, I have no idea what I did say. We did go to dinner but we didn’t make the movie. We ended up in the backseat of my parent’s car. I was stupid though, I took a big chance with her.”
Safia just looked at me questioningly.
“You have no idea how heady it is for a teenage boy to be offered the opportunity to actually engage in sex – real sex – intercourse. Back in my day we all said we were doing it, but believe me, the majority of us, and I mean almost everyone, was lying through their teeth. So here I was, offered access to the Promised Land, something I hadn’t expected, and because I hadn’t expected it, I wasn’t carrying any protection.”
“You went and got some, right?”
“You’d think. She didn’t want to stop. She said not to worry, the chances of her getting pregnant were a million to one; what could one time hurt? There was that and the fact that at my age, I was embarrassed by the prospect of buying protection. It was like announcing to everyone what you were going to do.”
“You’re kidding me? You bought that? You thought that?”
“Not the brightest bulb in the box, I know. I know better now; I know that’s bullshit, the one in a million pregnancy line, but you’ve got to look at this from my point of view; I was young and being offered the opportunity to go all the way by a girl whom I was attracted to. Of course I was going to do something stupid.”
“So you guys did it; went all the way? Unprotected?” she asked.
“Yeah. Being both of our first times, it wasn’t much; a bit sloppy and messy, and probably quicker than expected, but, yeah, we did it. It’s funny, because as we were doing it, I knew in the back of my mind I was doing something stupid and wrong, but I couldn’t stop; everything about it was just so different; the sensations, the feeling of being inside her, everything; I’d never experienced anything like that ever before, and it was heady and intoxicating.”
I paused to take a sip of my tea. Memories were flooding back; although I knew that date and what happened on it probably wasn’t as memorable or special to the girl I was with; it had meant everything to me. I kind of wished that that sense of discovery occurred every time; it’s just one of those things you never forget.
“During the brief time we were engaged in sex, I kept thinking to myself that I’d be smart and before I came, I’d pull out of her. If I wasn’t going to use full protection, that seemed at least like an intelligent compromise. The only problem was I was overwhelmed by everything I was feeling. I’ve had a few acquaintances in my life who’ve told me they’ve used that method of birth control; probably the worst and most unreliable, but, I guess, they were too cheap to buy condoms. I’ve never understood how they could do it. I mean, at that moment, when things are going to happen, everything is working wonderfully, all the feelings and sensations, there’s no way in hell I could back away from that before completion. I just don’t have that kind of will power.”
“I assume you don’t have a kid out there somewhere?” she asked.
“No. During the date, this girl, who was in Grade Ten at the time, said some things that indicated there might be trouble at home; we had also talked on the phone more than a few times before our date. I got lucky, she didn’t get pregnant, although I’ll tell you, for those few minutes of pleasure, I spent a lot of time sweating my ass off with anxiety as to whether or not I’d have to go to my parents and tell them I got a girl pregnant. I got really, really lucky. It was a couple of years later that I ran into her father at the mall; we said ‘Hi’ to one another and I asked how she was doing; turns out that about six months after I stopped seeing her, she met some older guy and moved in with him.”
“I thought you said she was in Grade Ten?”
“She was. That’s why I got lucky. The way I figured it, she was unhappy at home; under her father’s thumb and she figured if she went out and got pregnant or something, she’d be taken in by the family of the boy who got her pregnant; especially knowing that if she got pregnant her father was probably going to kick her out of the house. That’s why she didn’t care about using protection; pregnancy was probably an escape in her mind. The few dates after the one where we went all the way didn’t involve sex. I’d come prepared with condoms, but when she found that out, she seemed less interested; one of the things that made me wary and broke us up. So, that’s my first time; unimpressive and embracing all kinds of stupidity.”
“I assume things got better over the years?” she asked.
“I make no guarantees,” I said. “So, how about you? What was your first time like? How’d it come about?”
“You really shouldn’t ask a lady such questions.”
“That bad, huh?”
She smiled. “It didn’t involve love or anything like that; no girly stuff, just basic curiosity.”
“Like a scientific experiment?” I asked.
“I remember in high school, my girlfriends and I would trade books, romance stories, especially if they got a little racy. You know the stuff, a lot of heaving bosoms, torn bodices, throbb
ing members, and stuff like that. None of our parents said anything about sex; it was like a taboo topic around us; what they never considered is that not speaking about it doesn’t take the curiosity from our minds. It was after I’d finished high school; I didn’t know what I wanted to do, and didn’t want to do what my parents wanted me to do. I talked them into letting me take a couple of local art classes, and it was there I met Daniel. He was a nice guy, no flash or anything, a good sense of humor; I enjoyed talking with him and hanging out. It was after class one evening that I took him by surprise. He offered to drive me home, and when we got to the parking lot, I seduced him.”
“Seduced him? Really?”
My interest was definitely peaked.
“I’m trying to make it more interesting than it actually was. I basically offered myself to him,” she said.
I laughed. “I’d have liked to see the look on his face when that happened. It’s not every day a beautiful woman just offers herself to you. Maybe every other day, but not every day. So, you just decided to have sex with this guy?”
“No, I gave it a lot of thought. Everybody makes such a big deal about it that I figured I wanted to find out what it was all about; what the big deal was all about. I also figured, at that time, that my parents were going to marry me off one day to some guy I didn’t know, and I’d be expected to get married and jump into his bed; this seemed just as good as that; at least I knew Daniel and knew I liked him. Why not make him my first time?”
“How was it?”
“I don’t think Daniel was all that experienced. I hate to say it, but I probably thought what most women think? Is that it? That’s the big deal? I will add though, that I at least brought protection. There was no way I wanted to risk getting pregnant; not out of curiosity. So that was it, my first time.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping our teas and no doubt contemplating each other’s stories.
“So, it doesn’t bother you that I’m not a virgin; that I’ve been sexually active?” she asked.
