Carter's Unfocused, One-Track Mind

by Brent Crawford

  Abby turned sixteen a few weeks ago, so my cougar picked me up in her parents’ minivan. I was staring out the kitchen window like a puppy when she pulled up to the house, so I got to watch as she slid down from the captain’s chair. Her skirt rode up a few inches and her high heels made her legs do their thing! She casually pulled the fabric back to its designated length and checked herself in the reflection of the sliding door. She’s hot as hell, so no other adjustments needed to be made. Her hair was up and showed off her awesome neck and shoulders. Her dress was simple and black, but tight around the hips and boobs. I wouldn’t call it slutty, but I doubt her mom was as stoked as I was about the cleavage.

  I walked outside and met her on the sidewalk. My mom went paparazzo on us for twenty minutes, and then we drove downtown to a cool old Italian restaurant. I ordered the seafood tower for us to share because I thought it would be funny, and Nutt is always saying how oysters make girls horny. It was a little bit disgusting to look at, and eat, but all the old people were gawking at us the whole time like, Who the hell are these pimp-ass kids with the friggin’ seafood tower?!

  There’s some rule that sophomores are not supposed to be at the senior prom, but we didn’t try to hide. We torched that dance (gym) floor! Jeremy and his new (college) boyfriend tried to battle us, but even they couldn’t hang. I jumped off the bleachers in the middle of a Flo Rida song and tried to land in the splits. People cheered for my courage, but it didn’t go very well and I kind of hurt my leg.

  The chaperones were so jealous of our skills that they kicked us out at midnight; either that or there’s a rule in our school district that you can’t go past twelve a.m.

  We grabbed a map to the after-party, but I had no intention of using it…even though it sounded really fun. It was at a new indoor water park and it was just Merrian kids, so I could’ve gone down the slides a million times. Honestly, the only thing that could get between a fake wave pool (that you can actually surf on!) and me was the possibility of actual sex with a real girl.

  Things were looking dope as we strolled (limped) across the parking lot…but things have looked dope before. The difference on prom night was that I didn’t care. I knew that whatever happened next would be great, no matter what. I honestly wouldn’t have been heartbroken if we’d high-fived in front of the field house and gone our separate ways.…Thank God we didn’t!

  Abby and I were both dripping with sweat and had been groping each other for hours on the dance floor. The oysters seemed to have worked. It was on like Donkey Kong and we both knew it. I kind of felt drunk with excitement, but I hadn’t had a sip of alcohol. Maybe it was the extra testosterone my body was kicking out, or maybe it was that damn seafood tower, but something was making me giddy and light-headed, and I could tell Abby felt the same way.

  We made out for a second before I opened the driver’sside door for her…because a gentleman is a gentleman whether he has a driver’s license or not! I knew the backseat folded down into a big bed, but I didn’t want Abby to lose her virginity in the same place she used to eat Cheerios and poop her pants. I also didn’t want to give the Merrian P.D. another opportunity to interrupt us. So after I helped her into the captain’s chair, I looked into her beautiful green eyes and asked, point-blank, “Do you want to get a hotel room with me?”

  She didn’t shrug. She didn’t say “Okay” or “I guess” or “Why not?” She stared right back at me and said, “Yes.”

  It took everything in my power to not start clapping, but I didn’t do it (until I was safely behind the van). On the drive to the Econo Lodge, we stayed pretty quiet until Abby asked, “Should we stop by QuikTrip?”

  “You think we’ll need Gatorade?”

  “No!” She laughed. “I was thinking about…protection?”

  “Oh, rubbers? Naw, I’ve got a bunch.”

  Abby shook her head and said, “You are so cocky! You brought condoms?”

  “I bring condoms to biology in case things get out of hand.…I don’t think prom is that big of a stretch.”

  She was pulling up to the Econo Lodge when I said, “Okay, our reservation is under the name Froman.”

  “You already have a room reserved?!” she gasped.

  “I’m kidding! Is planning one of my strong suits?” I couldn’t believe I was able to joke on this momentous occasion.

  Abby parked the van while I went in and begged the manager to give me a room. The guy wasn’t that old, so he was cool, especially when he saw I had a credit card. Dad told me to use it if I had “an emergency.” If this isn’t an emergency, I don’t know what is!

  My stomach was churning with nerves, and I was trying to take deep breaths to calm down. I was promising the guy that I wouldn’t have a party in the room just as Abby walked through the sliding glass doors. She’d taken her hair down at the dance, so when the breeze kicked it up, her locks looked as if a special effects crew had pointed a wind machine at her. Her boobs were still glistening with a little sweat, and the manager looked at me with so much envy I almost felt bad. He shook his head in disgust, like I hadn’t done anything with my life that was worthy of getting to spend the night with a girl that hot. But he had no idea how hard I’d fought to be in that lobby, or how likely it was that I might still screw it up. I didn’t feel like getting into it.

  He handed me our key card like he was bestowing a lightsaber. He gave us a room on the ground floor, probably because he figured we’d be disturbing anyone underneath us. He was right! We may or may not have broken the bed. All I’m saying is: don’t ever attempt a flip between two beds. You think it’s going to be awesome, but you could break your neck and die a virgin. I just hope “queen-size bed” doesn’t show up on my dad’s credit card statement.

  Abby and I might have made love in Room 134 of the Econo Lodge.…We might have done it twice! But I’m not trying to brag about it, and it’s nobody’s business except Abby’s and mine. I don’t want to be the guy who does things just to tell other people about it. I’d want the memory of it to be pristine and untarnished by outside influences. I’d want to remember it exactly as it happened. Actually…I might want to edit a few things.

  I’ll say this: if it happened, it was more remarkable than I’d ever imagined it would be…probably more so the second time than the first. Not to say that the first time wasn’t amazing; it just may have been more to the point. And this might sound cheesy, but the whole experience was really beautiful and sort of spiritual. Abby and I connected in a way that really surprised me. Like the way EJ and I can talk to each other without opening our mouths. Scratch that. It was nothing like that! But it was awesome. (If it happened!)

  I’m so glad that all of my prayers for hooking up with a random slut were never answered, even if when we got to the room, Abby ducked into the little bathroom to “freshen up” and I heard her dress unzip on the other side of the door.…I may have pushed my ear against the door to listen to the sweet sound of satin falling to the tile. A brief silence was followed by this gorgeous girl, who I was sooo in love with, moaning seductively, “Ohhh God,” before going rogue-diarrhea-ninja in stereo sound: PLUFFFT, UFF, UFF, PLUFFT, UMP, PEERP!!!

  She was grunting like my grandpa trying to get out of a low chair, but I didn’t care…until I smelled it. WOW! I only thought I was feeling sick until that moment, but I suddenly needed to purge myself of some seafood, and quick! The Econo Lodge doesn’t have a crapper in the lobby, so I had to take my business to the parking lot and fertilize their bushes with vomit/chum. The people walking into QuikTrip across the street thought they knew the story. They found it hilarious that a boy in a tux couldn’t hold his booze on prom night. They had no idea I was actually dealing with a serious bacterial problem as I knelt on the blacktop heaving my guts up and possibly crapping my pants at the same time! How could they? Would they even believe that a guy who’d waited his whole life for this night would even consider eating some weird new cuisine on this important of an evening? I don’t think they could.


  Once the fireworks were over and I realized I wasn’t going to die, I waddled over to QuikTrip and broke out the credit card again. I wonder if my dad will demand to know why I needed a two-liter of ginger ale, saltine crackers, Pepto-Bismol, two toothbrushes, a tube of Colgate, a pair of NASCAR shorts, and baby wipes at 2:30 in the morning on prom night. I’ll have to give my mom some reason that I lost my church pants, but she doesn’t even want to know why they’re in the QuikTrip Dumpster.

  I told the hotel manager there was a funny smell in Room 134, and if it wasn’t too much trouble we’d like a different one.

  Abby and I may have had a good laugh and a sweet burping contest as we watched two episodes of Ridiculousness.

  I’m not going to confirm or deny the sex, but I will say that sleeping with a girl is way harder than I ever thought it would be. I’m not talking about sex, now…I’m talking about sleep.

  How many hours have I imagined doing the deed, and not one second as to what I would do afterward?! How could cuddling with a hot chick turn into torture? I’ve seen the action on TV a million times. It seems straightforward: she just puts her head on your shoulder and you talk for a moment. But then that moment drags on and on and she won’t get off of your friggin’ arm! TV cuddling goes on for a few seconds and then they cut to something else, but I was trapped there for hours. Are you just supposed to drift off with someone’s skull pushing into your windpipe? Do you just ignore the hair that’s tickling your nose and invading your mouth with chemicals that smell nice but taste like poison?

  Sleeping with Abby was kind of like putting a lit Duraflame into my sleeping bag. It made me realize that she’s not just hot to look at…she’s like a hundred and ten degrees, and she twitches like a meth-head in rehab. Also, my collarbone was blocking off part of her nose and making her snore a little bit. That was kind of cute, actually. Hopefully (please, God!), I’ll get used to these things.

  As light started to creep through the cheap window blinds, Abby stirred slightly, so I was like, “Hey you! Can’t sleep? Do you want to walk to iHop? I’m starving.”

  She didn’t really want to get up or brush her teeth, but she really needed to delete some seafood morning breath! She also didn’t want to be at a restaurant at 6:15 a.m. in an evening gown, but she’s a trouper, and I was so proud to be there with her…especially when we walked past the corner booth and discovered EJ, Bag, Nutt, Doc, Levi, J-Low, Hormone, Andre, Timberlake, The Ding-Dong, Coot, Hangin’ Chad, and TrimSpa trying to sober up after a long night. I knew Andre would rather have given me a punch in the face than a “S’up?” but he did it anyway. Everyone’s got to learn how to lose at some point, and as his friend, I was glad to be of service.

  EJ yelled, “I like those Nascar shorts, dude!” Abby and I ignored them and the hash browns that whizzed past our heads. That morning could have been awkward, but it wasn’t. As Abby ordered her food, I realized that she is so cool, she can make any situation okay, or maybe I am cool. I doubt it though. I almost started crying right there in the booth, and I was going to get bacon and eggs even though I love the Funny Face pancake. But I knew my boys would make fun of me for it, and that friggin’ seafood tower didn’t go very well, and it seemed dumb to order off the kid menu after making love with someone, but at a certain point you’ve got to make a decision. You’ve got to figure out who you are and what you want. And if you think that something is going to bring you happiness, you’d be a fool not to be honest with yourself, and I love chocolate chip pancakes. So that’s what I got. And I think that makes me pretty cool.

  But I’m obviously not an expert.