'Charlie's got a girlfr,' my sister said.
'She's not my girlfr,' I said.
'Who is this girl?' my father asked.
'What's going on?' my mother asked from the kitchen.
'Charlie wants to borrow the car,' my dad replied.
'What for?' my mother asked.
'That's what I'm trying to find out!' my father said with a raised voice.
'No need to get snippy,' my mother said.
'Sorry,' my father said without meaning it. Then, he turned back to me.
'So, tell me about this girl.'
So, I told him a little about Mary Elizabeth, leaving out the part about the tattoo and belly button ring. He kind of smiled for a little while, trying to see if I was already guilty of something. Then, he said yes. I could borrow his car. When my mother came in with coffee, my father told her the whole story while I ate dessert.
That night, as I was finishing my book, my father came in and sat on the edge of my bed. He lit a cigarette and started telling me about sex. He gave me this talk a few years before, but it was more biological then. Now, he was saying things like…
'I know I'm your old man, but…'
'you can't be too careful these days,' and
'wear protection,' and
'if she says no, then you have to assume she means it…'
'because if you force her to do something she doesn't want to do, then you're in big trouble, mister…'
'and even if she says no, and really means yes, then quite frankly she's playing games and isn't worth the price of dinner.'
'if you need to talk to somebody, you can come to me, but if you don't want to do that for some reason, talk to your brother,' and finally
'I'm glad we had this talk.'
Then, my father ruffled my hair, smiled, and left the room. I guess I should tell you that my father isn't like on television. Things like sex don't embarrass him. And he is actually very smart about them.
I think he was especially happy because I used to kiss this boy in the neighborhood a lot when I was very little, and even though the psychiatrist said it was very natural for little boys and girls to explore things like that, I think my father was afraid anyway. I guess that's natural, but I'm not sure why.
Anyway, Mary Elizabeth and I went to see a movie downtown. It was what they call an 'art' movie. Mary Elizabeth said it won an award at some big film festival in Europe, and she thought that was impressive. As we waited for the movie to start, she said what a shame it was that so many people would go to see a stupid Hollywood movie, but there were only a few people in this theater. Then, she talked about how she couldn't wait to get out of here and go to college where people appreciate things like that.
Then the movie started. It was in a foreign language and had subtitles, which was fun because I had never read a movie before. The movie itself was very interesting, but I didn't think it was very good because I didn't really feel different when it was over.
But Mary Elizabeth felt different. She kept saying it was an 'articulate' film. So 'articulate.' And I guess it was. The thing is, I didn't know what it said even if it said it very well.
Later, I drove us to this underground record store, and Mary Elizabeth gave me a tour. She loves this record store. She said it was the one place where she felt like herself. She said that before coffee shops were popular, there was nowhere for kids like her to go, except the Big Boy, and that was old until this year.
She showed me the movie section and told me about all these cult filmmakers and people from France. Then, she took me down to the import section and told me about 'real' alternative music. Then, she took me to the folk section and told me about girl bands like the Slits.
She said she felt really bad she hadn't gotten me anything for Christmas, and she wanted to make it up to me. Then, she bought me a record by Billie Holiday and asked if I wanted to go to her house and listen to it.
So, I was sitting alone in her basement while she was upstairs getting us something to drink. And I looked around the room, which was very clean and smelled like people didn't live there. It had a fireplace with a mantel and golf trophies. And there was a television and a nice stereo. And then Mary Elizabeth came downstairs with two glasses and a bottle of brandy. She said that she hated everything her parents loved, except for brandy.
She asked me to pour the drinks while she made a fire. She was very excited, too, which was strange because she's never like that. She kept talking about how much she loves fires and how she wanted to marry a man and live in Vermont someday, which was strange, too, because Mary Elizabeth never talks about things like that. When she finished the fire, she put on the record, and kind of danced over to me. She said she felt very warm, but not in the temperature sense.
The music started, and she clinked my glass, said 'cheers,' and took a sip of brandy. Brandy is very good, by the way, but it was better at the Secret Santa party. We finished the first glasses very quickly.
My heart was beating really fast, and I was starting to get nervous. She handed me another glass of brandy and touched my hand very softly when she did it. Then, she slipped her leg over mine, and I watched it just dangle there. Then, I felt her hand on the back of my neck. Just kind of moving slowly. And my heart started beating crazy.
'Do you like the record?' she asked real quiet.
'Very much.' I really did, too. It was beautiful.
'Charlie?'
'Uh-huh?'
'Do you like me?'
'Uh-huh.'
'You know what I mean?'
'Uh-huh.'
'Are you nervous?'
'Uh-huh.'
'Don't be nervous.'
'Okay.'
That's when I felt her other hand. It started at my knee and worked its way up the side of my leg to my hip and stomach. Then, she took her leg off mine and kind of sat on my lap facing me. She looked right into my eyes, and she never blinked. Not once. Her face looked warm and different. And she leaned down and started kissing my neck and ears. Then my cheeks. Then my lips. And everything kind of melted away. She took my hand and slid it up her sweater, and I couldn't believe what was happening to me. Or what breasts felt like. Or later, what they looked like. Or how difficult bras are.
After we had done everything you can do from the stomach up, I lay down on the floor, and Mary Elizabeth put her head on my chest. We both breathed very slowly and listened to the music and the fire crack. When the last song was over, I felt her breath on my chest.
'Charlie?'
'Uh-huh?'
'Do you think I'm pretty?'
'I think you're very pretty.'
'Really?'
'Really.'
Then, she held on to me a little tighter, and for the next half hour, Mary Elizabeth didn't talk at all. All I could do was lie there and think about how much her voice changed when she asked me if she was pretty, and how much she changed when I answered, and how Sam said she didn't like things like that, and how much my arm was beginning to hurt.
Thank God we heard the automatic garage door opener when we did.
