“Does that feel good? I have never done this before.”
His admitting this just makes things worse.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t get any better. Cape can’t find my clitoris and is thrusting his tongue inside my vagina, licking his lips afterward. I now know why people (except Babs) call it eating someone out.
I grab his shoulders and pull him up toward my face. Tell him to stop.
“What? Did I do it wrong?”
“No, no, it was just too intense for me. You did a great job.”
I see him suppressing a smile. He leans in and kisses me on the mouth. I taste myself on him, and I am grossed out by the idea that the pungent juices all over his lips and inside his mouth belong to me. I have never smelled myself before. Just had clean and precise smashes in the bathroom, or Jake putting his penis in my me. He never asks for blowjobs. I force myself to pretend Cape just drank some exotic, musty cocktail I will probably never taste.
“But you didn’t . . .”
Smash? I want to say, almost touched by the innocence of this boy who cannot say come or orgasm.
“Nor did you,” I reply. I see him thinking up some alternative activity. I know he’s a virgin, and I don’t want him to give this away to me as some kind of payback.
“I have another idea,” I say after a few awkward moments. I remember the night Babs told me about the K-Y Jelly and what she and Mack were about to do when she saw the pearls for Mags.
“Okay,” I say. “You need to take off your pants and underwear. I am going to flip over on all fours.” I know this will hurt, but it will be another thing Cape can add to his sexual repertoire, and I won’t have to worry about his technique. Fucking someone in the ass is pretty straightforward, as far as I can tell. Until Babs told me about that time with Mack, I never thought of it as a heterosexual option. But from what I gather, it is an extra on the sexual menu that not a lot of people order, like sambuca after dinner.
Cape takes his time with his pants. I can tell he both knows and doesn’t know what is going to happen. When he is finally in position, I can feel his penis on my back. It is surprisingly hard, given the fact that he must be uncertain as to what my next move is. He must still be excited from admiring my centerfold, despite the fact that the whole thing was a disaster for me.
“Okay, Cape, glide your penis into my ass.”
Cape would never say ass, especially in front of a girl. Meredith would never say ass to a boy either. But I know Cape will obey me and we will have our own form of intimacy. Unlike with Jake, this will be a shared moment that will mean something.
“Are you sure?” he asks, but his ragged breath tells me he’s up for it.
“Yes, Hailer,” I say, and if my anal region could wet itself, this would do the trick. This is what I want more than anything. To get the boy I have known as Hailer since I was ten to hurt me.
“Hailer? How did . . .” he asks, surprised.
“Shh. Just do it.”
He repositions his penis and thrusts it in my ass. It is not a good feeling. It is too tight down there and I feel like he is ripping me open. Maybe that explains our parents’ need for K-Y. Cape seems to have forgotten his trepidation and is pumping back and forth avidly, gripping my hips so he can go deeper. I am worried I might bleed. I want to yell Stop!, but this is what I proposed. I must follow through. My mind drifts to Meredith. If I were here on the bed with her instead of Cape, there wouldn’t be this searing pain. She would be all soft skin and puffy lips. I wonder what her lipstick would taste like. Our interaction would be languid and slow, sucking at each other’s earlobes and bellybuttons. We would not be a couple, just two girls trying something out new. Just for the hell of it.
But instead, I am here with Hailer/Cape and his painful penis. I wait anxiously for him to come, and for it to be over. His pace quickens, and I know he’s close.
He pulls out, puts his penis on my back, keeps thrusting. Like me, he is probably bewildered by what happens to semen when you come in someone’s ass. I’m sure he doesn’t think he’ll get me pregnant, but maybe he worries I’ll get an infection or at least smell bad.
He arches his back, and just before it happens, he yells, “Jesus, Meredith!” His come sprays all over the back of my T-shirt, which I have not taken off. I can’t really fault him because I have been thinking about her also, and if I were a guy, I would probably have screamed her name too.
I pull away, reach for my pants. Cape leans back into his pillows. I’m about to cry because of both the pain and the fact that I am not, and never will be, Meredith. Cape looks at me and says, “Sorry, Bettina, I didn’t mean it. I’m just so used to being with her.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say.
As he promised, Jake left his light on, and he’s sitting on his bed reading. He takes one look at my face and says, “Everything all right?”
“No,” I say to him for once, and I climb swiftly out his window.
19. Dance
October 1983
THE NEXT WEEK, IT seems all anyone my year can talk about is the Lower dance. The dance is not really the point; who you go with is. I’m more than curious to see what Cape will do. Will he ask Meredith? Even though they broke up, I know that he is still into her, since he called out her name during our ass-sex (as I am now referring to it). A small part of me hopes he’ll do something different and ask me. But once again, I indulge myself in a good mind-fuck.
Jake wants to take me to the crater, a no man’s land behind the railroad tracks where students get drunk and do drugs. It’s far enough away from campus to be off the radar of Cardiss teachers. I’m slightly disappointed because I want to go to the dance and show the school, and especially Cape, that I have a boyfriend. But Jake told me up front that dating wasn’t part of the deal.
We convene in Meredith’s room to discuss details. Holly is going with Ned, an insipid boy from her math class. He’s from Milwaukee and I wonder if he’ll bring her a corsage. Jess is going with Nathan, a bohemian type from her art class who has a ponytail. I wonder if she has any dresses to wear to the dance. She is always just this side of dressing like a boy. I tell them I’m going out with Jake but don’t go into details. Maybe he will just smash my head into a tree.
Meredith is strangely quiet. Despite her popularity, I don’t think anyone has asked her. Any boy other than Cape is probably afraid of being rejected.
“I happen to think the whole thing is stupid,” Meredith says. “I’m going home to NYC for the weekend to see my friends. They’re going to have a keg party and we’re going to play strip poker with some boys from Collegiate.” I think of Meredith’s adverse reaction to my vodka and wonder if she will risk drinking again. Probably, but she will stop in time to fool around with someone. I wish could go with her. See her sitting on some guy’s lap in her bra and underpants.
“You can come with us,” Holly says, thinking she is being helpful. “I’m sure Ned wouldn’t mind.”
Meredith would, however, and says, “Thanks, Holly, but I’m just not up to it. No offense, but I sit behind Ned in math, and the back of his neck is always sweating.”
Holly has never noticed this or thought to add it to her list of boy faults. She pretends her nails are suddenly fascinating.
Jess says, “Come on, Mere, if you aren’t at the dance, it won’t be as good. Maybe you could ask someone. No boy would say no to you.”
“I’m really not interested, sorry. I went to the dance last year and it was lame. All of those paper streamers in school colors, and the fucking balloons. It looked like a birthday party for a six-year-old.”
They give up on trying to convince her. Maybe she really does want to go to NYC after all. Recharge herself after the Cape debacle.
That evening, we have visiting hours. I am forced to suffer through Ned and Holly making small talk as I struggle with my calculus.
“Where do you want to go to dinner?” Ned asks.
“It doesn’t matter. If it’s too expens
ive, we can just eat at the dining hall,” Holly replies.
Ned laughs. “Holly, that would be so lame. What do you like to eat?”
“Anything!” she says, still not catching on that cool girls aren’t interested in food. She has probably gained ten pounds since the beginning of the year.
“Okay, I will just pick somewhere. I better get a kiss for this.”
Holly blushes. “We’ll see.” I know she is both embarrassed and happy that she might be able to impress Meredith with a kiss from Ned, despite the sweaty-neck situation.
On and on they go, navigating the particulars of the evening. I put my red Sony Walkman on and flop down on my bed, work on my math.
Since our door is open, I can see everyone coming and going. Since there are only four of us in the house, there’s usually not too much traffic. All of a sudden, I see a tall boy and a flash of dark hair. Cape. I have the absurd idea that he is going to come into our room and ask me to the dance. But no, of course not.
Cape keeps walking and knocks on Meredith’s door. His strides have a new confidence, which I attribute to our nocturnal activities. He now feels himself on a par with Meredith, as confident as she is. Will win her back. I consider telling Meredith that we hooked up, but I don’t want to ruin my chances with either of them, become a girl who sits in the corner and plays by herself.
I imagine that when Meredith opens the door and sees Cape, there will be a tinge of surprise in her hello. She won’t be expecting to see him.
Or maybe in Meredith-land, she knew, in the end, he would come. She is never let down, never embarrassed or humiliated. She just changes her plans.
Cape is there for about an hour. She’s making him work for it.
After visitation, we all meet up in Meredith and Jess’s room. Meredith and I smoke. Her mood is now ebullient.
“I’ve bagged my trip to NYC. Cape asked me to the dance. I said no initially, but then he looked so dejected—like a lost dog—that I took pity on him and said yes.”
“That’s great, Meredith. Now we can all get ready together. It wouldn’t be right if you missed out,” Holly says.
“Yes, and you can even borrow my Clinique foundation. I noticed that your skin has more than a touch of acne.”
If Holly is offended by this, she doesn’t let on. In her mind, Meredith is being constructive, not critical. Holly touches her face and says, “Thanks, Mere. I appreciate it.”
“Bettina, could you bring some of your booze? I am going to give Cape a blowjob, and I can take it to another level with a good buzz. Also, he might try to go down on me, and some rum will make the whole thing less awkward.”
“Nathan told me in such a situation, you should give your pubic hair a trim and flush the hair down the toilet. It makes it easier for a guy to navigate down there. You can use my nail scissors,” Jess says.
“Did you do it?” asks Meredith.
“Yes,” says Jess. “It looks much neater down there. Nate will have a clean workspace.” I am shocked that Jess has such bold sexual plans. That she will let a boy touch her anorexic body, with its sharp bones and flat-as-cardboard chest.
Holly looks intrigued. “I never even thought of that.”
I know if Cape admires Mere’s groomed centerfold, he will never want to go near mine again. I suddenly hope Meredith will ask Jess for the scissors and do it right there. I want to see if her vagina looks different from mine. Maybe if I got close enough, I could smell her and see if she is cleaner and fresher than I am.
“Thanks, Jess. Brilliant idea. I was going to wear a thong and expose my ass, but this is much better.”
“No problem.”
“You can wear my diamond studs if you want,” Meredith says. This is a big deal. All of Meredith’s friends have them; they are like sorority pins. They’re not for special occasions; the girls wear them all the time, even during sports.
For once, all the girls in Bright look richer than I am.
20. Haircut II
October 1983
I DON’T HAVE A DRESS that is suitable for the evening of the dance, even though I’m not actually going, but I still have plenty of traveler’s checks left from the wad that Babs gave me in the beginning of the school year. I decide to walk into town and buy a dress. Jake might not care what I wear, but I do. For once, I want to participate in the ritual of getting ready with all the other girls.
I walk through campus until I come to the one street that represents the “town” of Cardiss. There is an ice cream shop, a bookstore, a tanning salon (bizarrely), a few homey restaurants that serve soup with hearty hunks of bread, a hamburger place. There are only two stores that sell clothing: Mrs. M., which caters to middle-aged women who have not frequented the gym in a while. The store has monochrome pantsuits in bright colors, the pants at three-quarter length and the oversize shirts with droopy bows.
This store does not attract the core of the female faculty at Cardiss. Most teachers are more like Deeds. Fit from workouts, the women look like they are still in college. To find something in her size, Deeds must buy her clothes on trips to Boston or order them from the L. L. Bean catalog. A small part of me wishes she would go with me, like a big sister, but I think of the five cookies she put out on my first day. Know she will never give more than just enough. I wish I had had the foresight to go to Boston, but the dance is tomorrow. I will have to make due with Cardiss’s meager offerings.
Next door to Mrs. M. is a store called Wow! I normally eschew places that have exclamation points in their names, but now I have no choice. Wow! has two sections: teen and adult. I examine the teen dresses, which go to the floor. Pouffy sleeves and muted colors, just this side of wedding dresses.
I walk over to the adult section. Peruse the rack and find a plain black shift that hits just above the knee. There is a shoe section, and the saleslady helps me pick out a pair of black pumps. Simple and elegant. My outfit is almost an exact replica of what Babs wore to Mack’s funeral.
Near the counter is a cluster of jewelry. No gray pearls with diamonds, but I see a silver necklace that would be perfect to put my father’s medallion on. I’m still afraid to take the next step and find him. After the Cape incident, I don’t think I ready to risk rejection so soon. What if my father has a real family, a wife and a son or daughter my age who would keep him from wanting me? But maybe, just maybe, I am a secret that he has begrudgingly kept all these years because Babs told him to, but he really wants me to know. I still can’t figure out why Babs kept his identity a secret. Maybe because she wanted me all to herself? Not because she loves me, but because she didn’t want me to love anyone else? Maybe the coin doesn’t even belong to him. Was it just something Babs gave me to stop my questions? I know I will be devastated if this is the case. I know how many times Babs has twisted my hopes into humiliation, and I am just not ready to climb this staircase yet.
Though she said almost nothing while helping me pick out shoes, the saleslady now acts like we know each other well enough for her to offer an opinion. She tries to dissuade me from buying the black dress.
“Is this for the dance?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“We have more festive togs. I can help you pick something.”
Togs? Is she fucking kidding? I thought that was one of those words that no one actually uses in conversation. I’m also pissed that she thinks to give me fashion tips. Does not understand that I don’t want to be like other girls. Their dresses seem too hopeful, mine just right.
“I like this one, thank you.”
She shakes her head and rings me up. I don’t care what she thinks. Babs would never take fashion advice from someone who works in a clothing store. Maybe from one of the designers who make dresses just for her: Halston, Ungaro, Blass. But not from someone who earns seven dollars an hour and folds things in tissue paper. All the stuff Babs buys gets sent to the aparthouse in heavy hanging bangs, the items covered in plastic sheaths.
My dress, shoes, and silver chain
total one hundred and sixty dollars. I’m sure the saleslady expects me to pay with my parents’ credit card. Instead, I give her two hundred dollars in traveler’s checks. She doesn’t understand these at first, spends a bit of time looking over them. I bet she’s never left the country. I’m about to explain to her that they are just like cash and she can call American Express with questions, but she doesn’t say anything. Just opens the cash register and hands me my change.
“Enjoy the dance!” she calls after me, like she’s happy to have helped me pick something out. Maybe she has no daughters.
“Thanks!” I say, as if I am as excited as she is. All the parties I have ever been to have ended badly, but she cannot tell this from just looking at me.
My next stop is Hair We Come, the town’s beauty salon. I decide on a thorough bikini wax and an extreme haircut. I want to top Meredith’s well-groomed vagina, even though I know Jake could care less. I have never had a bikini wax. Have only accompanied Babs to hers and chatted with her as a Czech lady ripped the hair from her crotch. One of Babs’s rules is never, ever shave your privates. The hair will just come back as stubble, a kind of female beard. She would be proud I am following her advice.
I check in at the desk.
“I would like a bikini wax and a haircut, please.”
The woman looks at me. Shakes her head.
“We don’t do waxing. Not really much need for bikinis this time of year. But we do offer hair removal with tweezers.”
Tweezers? It would take at least a week to clean me up. I could work on it at night after I finished all my homework, I suppose. But the idea of plucking hair follicle by follicle seems overwhelming and painful.
The Chocolate Money Page 16
