Girls, Girls, Girls

by Jonah Black

  “Hello, you’re on Pillow Talk!”

  “Dr. Black, is it normal for a boy to masturbate three or four times a day?”

  “I am so glad you asked that, caller! The important thing is that we all find our own levels of comfort. For some people three or four times a day might seem like a lot, but for others it’s perfectly normal. You have to accept yourself for the person that you are and be nice to yourself. That’s my real question, caller, Are you being nice to yourself?”

  “I think so, Dr. Black. I guess what I want to know is if there’s such a thing as being too nice to yourself.”

  “Too nice? I don’t think so, caller!”

  “Well, what if a person was doing it maybe five or six times a day? Would that be normal?”

  “Caller, even five or six times a day is all right if the person feels good about themselves. For some persons this might feel right, but others might feel like it’s starting to take time away from other things that are important. The real question is, Are you being nice to yourself?”

  “How about seven or eight? Nine, sometimes?”

  Hello? I’m trying to study for the German test tomorrow, but with this going on in the background it’s a little hard to concentrate. Okay, in five minutes I will start to study, and I won’t stop until I fall asleep.

  I can’t believe Dad still hasn’t called Honey to wish her happy birthday. What an idiot.

  I have to ace this test.

  German stinks. It’s like, the more I study the worse I get. Thorne has this whole theory of “negative knowledge,” like there’s a certain “optimum studying” period you can work on anything, and beyond that you start getting stupider. In Thorne’s case the optimum studying period for everything lasts about seven minutes.

  If I don’t get at least an A minus on this, though, I’m going to be stuck in eleventh grade for the entire year. Unless the governor writes back and gives me a pardon, which I’m not exactly counting on.

  Honey just got up and went out to the kitchen and opened the front door. But she didn’t go out. She just closed the door and locked it and went back to her room where Mom’s show is still playing. I wonder what she’s up to.

  Now there’s a second source of noise on in her room, some kind of spoken-word tape, probably for one of her eighty different language classes. I hate how easy learning things is for her. She’s learning Russian now, not at school, just all on her own.

  She’s laughing to herself, so she must have just said something really funny in Russian. More vodka? Yes, thank you! Or maybe Mom said something funny I didn’t hear.

  What am I doing? I really hav

  Okay, I’m back. Posie was just here. Things are not good.

  In her usual style, Posie just appeared while I was sitting here, writing.

  “What are you doing here?” I said. Really surprised. But I was nervous, too. Now that she was there, right in front of me, it was about time I told her about Wailer.

  “I came to ask your advice about something,” Posie said. “Can I come in?”

  She walked in anyway, before I could answer, and sat down on the end of my bed. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt, and there were goose bumps on her arms. I didn’t want her to leave, but I forced myself to say that I did.

  “I don’t know. Now’s not the best time, Posie,” I said.

  “It isn’t?” She punched me. “Hel-lo? Jonah? It’s me.”

  “I’m supposed to be studying German. I have a test tomorrow and if I don’t get an A I’m going to have to stay in eleventh grade,” I explained.

  “But I need to talk, Jonah. Please?” she said. “I promise it won’t take too long.”

  What could I do? I sat down next to her and she took my hand.

  “Listen. I wanted to ask your opinion about something,” she said.

  I could still hear Honey talking in Russian in the next room. Her tape was getting louder. Or maybe it was the radio. “I like small beds,” a male voice said. Honey giggled.

  “About what?” I asked Posie.

  “About Wailer,” she said, squeezing my hand and smiling as she said it.

  Oh, no, I thought. “What about him?”

  “Do you think he loves me? I mean really?” she asked.

  My heart started beating like crazy. Was Posie beginning to wonder if Wailer was for real? I knew I had to say something.

  From the next room came more giggling. I realized then that Honey had someone in there with her. She had gone out to the kitchen before to let someone in.

  “Hey, do you want to take a walk or something?” I asked Posie.

  “No, I want you to tell me what you really think.”

  “About what?” I said, stalling.

  “About Wailer.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Posie,” I said. “There’s something you should know.”

  Now there was hysterical laughter from the other side of the wall, and this time it was clear that the tape I thought she was listening to wasn’t a tape at all. It was the voice of some guy.

  “I want to get married!” Honey shouted, like this was the funniest thing in the world.

  Honey and her friend both shrieked at this. The guy grunted, and suddenly I recognized that grunt.

  “I want to have babies!” he said.

  “We can live on the beach!” squealed Honey, like this was the funniest joke ever told.

  “I’ll teach you how to surf!” said Wailer.

  Posie stood up. She looked at the wall, then at me. Her face was stony, her eyes wide.

  “Is that—?”

  Wailer’s laugh rang out clearly. Honey giggled some more.

  Posie hugged herself, tears streaking her face. I stood up to hold her but she slapped my hand away.

  “Why, Jonah?” She sobbed. “Why would you do this to me?” she said.

  “But Posie,” I said. “I didn’t know he was there. I didn’t know—”

  “Liar,” Posie said.

  It was the meanest thing she’d ever said to me. But I realized that in a way I had lied to her.

  “You’re supposed to be my friend,” Posie said quietly, her voice all broken. And then she ran outside and down to the dock.

  I started to go after her, but by the time I got there her motorboat was already a ways down Cocoabutter Creek.

  “Posie!” I called. “Damn.”

  I stood there in the backyard thinking about going after her on my bike. Then I remembered the German test. I had to go back and study. If I didn’t, I was a dead man. I looked back at the house. Goddamned Honey.

  So here I am, about to start studying, while Posie is out on the water somewhere, in tears.

  Oct. 12

  Honey’s birthday. I just took the German test, and I think I screwed it up. Now I’m in study hall writing this.

  The reason I screwed up the test is everything that happened last night. Which was this:

  After Posie left I tried studying for a while but it was impossible. Just to kill some time while my head stopped swimming, I tried to go online with Northgirl. But all I got was “Northgirl999 is not currently signed on.”

  I heard Wailer leave. A little after that, Honey came into my room. She was wearing a big football jersey that went down to her knees. A gift from the football team, I guess.

  “Okay, Elmo,” Honey said. “Now’s your chance. She’s all ready for you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your friend. Posie. She’s yours,” Honey said.

  “What do you mean she’s mine?” I said.

  “I guarantee you, Jonah,” Honey said, with her hands on her hips. “You find her right now, she’ll do anything you want. Trust me.”

  I stared at her. And then it dawned on me. This was Honey’s big scheme.

  “You planned this?” I said, outraged.

  “I told you I was going to get you something you needed,” Honey said, looking very pleased with herself.

  “I don’t know
what you’re talking about,” I said. “Posie’s my friend.” Even as I said it I knew I sounded like a broken record.

  “You,” Honey growled, “are such a loser!” She started to leave my room.

  “Wait,” I said, stopping her. “Why did you do this, anyway? What do you care who I go out with?”

  “I don’t know, Brotherman. Maybe I’m hoping you’ll do something nice for me once in a while.”

  That’s when I remembered the presents I’d bought her. I got them out of my closet and gave them to her. She lit a cigarette and unwrapped them.

  “I’m saving the paper,” she said. She examined the presents—the thing for the door that said, “Hey, stay the hell out of my room,” and the mirror that screamed—and nodded appreciatively.

  “Nice,” she said, and gave me a hug. “Thanks.”

  I just shrugged like it was nothing, but secretly I was pleased that she liked them.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m heading out.”

  “Now?”

  “Of course now. That’s the nice thing about having a mother with a live radio show. You always know where she is.” She went back to her room to change and then she drove off in her Jeep.

  At that moment, the phone began to ring. On the radio, I could still hear Mom talking. “The female orgasm helps a woman release all her body stress. The female orgasm is a miracle!”

  The phone was still ringing, so I picked it up.

  “Hello? Jonah?”

  “Who’s this?” I said, although I knew perfectly well who it was.

  “It’s your dad, Jonah. Your dad!”

  “Hi.”

  “Got your message, son. Glad you reminded me. Would have forgotten. Is your sister there?”

  “No, Dad,” I said. “You missed her.”

  I talked to Dad for about a minute. He said he’s doing well. Tiffany just won first prize in the Sugartown Horse Show. Now they’re going to Switzerland for a week. She likes to ski. It’s like he was calling from another dimension.

  By then it was almost nine o’clock. I had about two more hours of German if I expected to even pass the test, let alone get an A. But maybe Honey was right, I thought. Maybe I should go find Posie. She was out there somewhere, probably crying her heart out. But if I went to look for her I’d fail my test, which meant I’d have to stay in eleventh grade, and then Posie would graduate at the end of the year and go off somewhere to college and leave me behind.

  I tried to clear my mind. I sat down at my desk and looked at the list of all the vocabulary words I was supposed to memorize.

  But I just kept hearing what Posie had said. You’re supposed to be my friend.

  Was that all I wanted, to be her friend?

  On the radio, Mom said, “Multiple sex partners for the female? Perfectly natural, if you’re comfortable with it. The question is, are you being nice to yourself?”

  (Still Oct.12, later.)

  Now I’m in Miss Tenuda’s class, still trying to catch up on the gory details of last night. I have to make sure she doesn’t see me writing this instead of taking notes or she’s going to get ticked off and maybe not let me be a senior even if I do, by some miracle, get an A on that German test.

  Anyway, it didn’t take me very long last night to decide to go after Posie. She was more important than any stupid German test, even more important than me being a senior. It wasn’t even a hard decision to make. I just got up and went outside and got on my bike and rode over to her house.

  As I rode I thought about how long I’d known Posie. I remembered how her father had this old bull whip and we’d stand in her driveway, trying to crack it, scaring the dog. I remembered her teaching me how to chew tobacco. And watching her shoot a perfect basket from midcourt when she was only twelve. I thought about her in that red bikini top she left on the floor of my room. And then I started thinking that even if I went over there and said stupid things and made a complete ass of myself, Posie wouldn’t mind. She’d be okay about it. That kind of gave me courage.

  Finally I got to her house. I didn’t want to disturb her parents so I opened the front door without knocking and crept up the back stairs to her room. Posie’s little sister, Caitlin, was lying on her bed with her headphones on. The door to Posie’s room was closed, but the light was on.

  I knocked softly. “Posie? It’s me, Jonah,” I said.

  I heard a kind of gasp from inside. It sounded like she was still crying. So I opened the door slowly.

  Sitting on the bed were Posie and Thorne, with their arms wrapped around each other.

  “Oh, Thorne,” Posie said, leaning against Thorne. “Look. Jonah’s here.”

  Thorne just nodded at me. I didn’t know what to think. I was so pissed at him for being there, but even more mad at myself. I mean if I’d just gotten there a little sooner, I could have been the one with my arms around Posie. I’m such an idiot.

  Thorne kissed Posie’s hair and stood up. “I have to head out,” he said.

  “No, stay,” Posie said, grabbing his hand.

  “Yeah, Thorne,” I said hollowly. “Stay.”

  But Thorne shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll call you in the morning, Pose.”

  Then he kind of shoved passed me in the doorway without meeting my gaze. I turned back to Posie. Her face was all blotchy like she’d been crying for a while, but she looked okay, much better than she had at my house.

  “What the hell was that all about?” I said.

  “Oh, Jonah,” Posie said. “Don’t be angry. Thorne was great. He said all the right things.”

  “I thought you said Thorne brings you down. All he ever wants to talk about is sex, you said,” I accused her jealously.

  “Yeah, well, Thorne’s a pretty sensitive guy underneath that whole act of his. He’s always looking out for me,” Posie said. “He’s a real sweetie.”

  “I’m always looking out for you, too,” I said, lamely.

  “I know,” Posie said, smiling up at me. “I’m so lucky to have you guys.”

  But that wasn’t enough for me. Something about the way Thorne had kissed her hair just seemed so familiar and intimate. I felt like something had happened. Something I’d missed out on.

  “So are you and Thorne like, together now?” I said.

  Posie blushed deep purple. I couldn’t believe it!

  “No,” she stammered. “I don’t know. I think—I think we’re going to take it slowly.”

  “Okay,” I said, exasperated. “Fine. Listen, I just wanted to say—”

  “It’s all right, Jonah,” Posie said. She stood up and blew her nose. “I’m not mad at you anymore. I should never have listened to Wailer. I just wanted to believe all his bullshit, you know?”

  My heart kind of sank when she said that. I mean, why did she have to believe anyone’s bullshit—Wailer’s, or Thorne’s—when I was standing right there in front of her, ready to tell her the truth?

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  I went over and kissed her on the cheek and looked into her eyes for a second. For the first time ever I felt like I didn’t know what she was thinking, and she definitely didn’t know what I was thinking. Her old stuffed bear was on her bed—Mr. Tummy, he’s called. I picked him up and tucked him under the covers. Then I left before I could say anything stupid.

  (Still Oct.12, midnight.)

  Mom forgot Honey’s birthday completely. She went out with someone for dinner and didn’t come home until late. Honey acted like she didn’t even notice. I picked up a ham and pineapple pizza from First Amendment and took out Repo Man. She loves that movie. So we sat on the floor in the living room and ate and watched the movie and then I did some dives for her out in the pool. I hope she had a good birthday.

  Oct. 15

  We got the German tests back. B minus. Scheiss. I’m a junior.

  Oct. 16

  I’m waiting to go in and see Dr. LaRue. The girl who’s always here in the waiting room is here again. But she looks different today. S
he’s wearing makeup. She seems like a different person.

  She says, “Are you okay?”

  And I say, “No, I’m not okay. I think I’m beginning to realize how not okay I am.”

  “It’s all right,” she says. “A lot of people are nuts. That doesn’t make them bad. Or undesirable.”

  She comes over and sits next to me and takes my hand. “My mother is all upset because I like to do it with guys I hardly even know,” she says.

  “Is that why you’re in therapy?” I say.

  “No, that’s why she’s in therapy. I’m fine with it. I like guys. They’re all so different,” she says. “It’s like some guys are warriors and some are kings and some are lovers and others are mystics.”

  And some guys are big liars, I think to myself.

  And then she says, “What do you think you are, Jonah Black?”

  “I don’t know what I am,” I tell her.

  “I do,” she says. “You’re a lover.”

  And then she climbs into my lap, and, just as our lips meet, she says, “That’s my favorite kind.”

  “Jonah?”

  That’s my name.

  Dr. LaRue is calling me in. More later.

  (Still Oct.16, 11 P.M.)

  My fourth session with Dr. LaRue was interesting. I have to say I’m beginning to hate going to him a little less. Not because I think he knows anything, or because I think he can do anything for me, but because it’s good to have someone to talk to. Even if he does look like one of the Muppets and I can always hear the drill from the dentist next door.

  We spent the first half of the session talking about Mom and Dad’s divorce, and I answered all his questions without making a single thing up. I think I’m too tired to keep making up stories for him. Anyway, I’ve fed him enough bullshit so that even when I tell him the truth now he probably won’t believe me.