Junia Baker's Journal

Chapter Three

I woke up in my bed the next morning, looking around the room. Everything about the world feels different, in a way. The air, the sound, the way I felt. I think about last night and I feel my stomach turn, but not in the same pleasant way as it did just seven hours ago.

I remember rushing off to my bedroom after he finally came out of the bathroom and went into my mom's room. I waited for the door to shut and momentarily, I imagined he had mistakenly gone into my bedroom and when I got up and walked to my room, I would see him in my bed. I of course didn't see him there when I went which ultimately led to me feeling dirty.

Why did I imagine that? Why even for a second did I want that to happen? It's Benji. Benji is just Benji, my mom's boyfriend. What happened was an accident and I was being weird.

I get out of bed, grabbing a hoodie and pulling it over my head, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, trying to shake off all the strange feelings I encouraged last night.

I make my way into the kitchen, seeing my mom sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper and drinking a piping hot coffee - I can see the steam rising. She also has a piece of toast smothered in peanut butter sitting on a paper towel in front of her. I look around before asking, "Where's Benji?"

Usually he's always awake at the same time as my mother and for obvious reasons, he's all I'm able to think about this morning. Did what happened last night weird him out too and he ran out before anyone woke up? I can't even fathom having a single thought about anyone or anything else besides him right now.

"Ran out of milk. He went to the corner store." She mumbles, flipping the page. I listen to the sound of the papers rubbing against each other. It makes me think of Benji and I's bodies - when they were against one another last night.

I hear the front door open and close and I bite down on my lip, hard enough to almost draw blood. I take a seat at the table. I'm eager to see him, to hear his voice, but I'm also terrified.

When he walks through the archway into the kitchen with a carton of milk in one hand and his car keys in the other, he immediately looks at me. I swear I see him look at my breasts before actually looking at my face but I'm probably just imagining things because of last night. Am I going crazy?

"Mornin'." He nods his head down once.

"Morning." I reply quietly, staring at him. I don't want to make anything obvious but I'm finding it really hard to look away, like when you drive past a car accident and you don't want to look but you just have to.

He quickly walks to the counter and starts making himself a bowl of cereal. I watched his back the whole time, almost burning a hole through him. My mom is too engrossed in her newspaper to notice.

"You want one?" He asks me without turning around to look at me.

"Uh, yes please." I clear my throat after speaking.

He makes me a bowl of cereal as well and sets it down on the table in front of me before taking a seat across from me with his own bowl. We eat in sync, both of us lifting a spoonful of Captain Crunch and pushing it into our mouths, returning the spoons to the bowls at the same time. We both keep catching each other's eyes, stealing little glances. When I wasn't looking, I felt him staring at me and when I looked at him, he pretended to be deep in his cereal bowl.

What are we doing? What's going on? Does he know I was awake? Does he know I felt him touching my breast? Did he mean to do it? I keep coming back to the same thought. I feel so confused. I know I should just let it go but that feels like a very difficult thing to do.

Breakfast has never been this quiet before and I know why. He must know that I know and he's trying to be normal, inconspicuous. Maybe he's trying to erase it from his memory but part of me doesn't want him to erase it, because I don't think that I want to. But why?

Benji abruptly gets up from the table after he finishes his bowl. "I have to go to work." He says, not facing us.

"Okay hun. You coming back here after?" She hasn't even looked up from her newspaper yet.

He rinses his bowl before leaving it in the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Uh, maybe, I'm not sure yet." He tells her. That's not a typical answer he gives, but my mom doesn't seem bothered by it. She never gets mad at Benji or expects too much of him. She lets him do what he wants and he does the same, that's why they work so well together.

"Well okay. I'll see ya when I see ya." She says as he kisses the top of her head and she smiles.

He walks past me and says quickly, "See ya, kid."

I glare at him but I don't say anything. Kid? I'm not a kid. I'm eighteen years old. Honestly, he's always called me that but because of what happened between us last night, I feel like that's no longer an appropriate name to call me anymore. It's the last thing he should be calling me.

I sigh and go back to eating my cereal as I listen to him close the front door. I wish he didn't have to go to work today.

I notice I don't hear the door lock, which he never forgets to do and it makes me wonder if he was in such a rush to leave because being in my presence makes him uncomfortable.

Later that night, I sat in my bed and wrote in my journal, secretly praying that Benji would be coming back and he would come into my bedroom and sit on the end of my bed and stare at me, telling me everything that's been going through his head since last night. I know he would never do that but it was sort of nice putting myself in that made-up scenario for a minute.

He comes into my bedroom and asks if I'm awake. I say yes, because I am. I can't sleep. He's the only thing on my mind, even though I feel like he really shouldn't be - given the circumstances. Why do I want him to pay so much attention to me now? Is me being horny over something silly, an accident that happened - really clouding my judgment right now?

He comes to my bed and he sits beside me, stroking my head. I've been thinking about you all day, about what happened, he would whisper. I would tell him that I felt the same way. Then maybe, just maybe... I don't know. What am I even writing? I'm being fucking crazy right now.

It's just because we fell asleep together. It wasn't purposeful, we were both tired, and it didn't have to be weird. But in a way it was weird because I woke up with his hand on my boob. I mean, what the fuck is that? It was obviously an accident but then what if it wasn't? What if he WANTED to touch MY boob? What if he liked him? I wonder if he liked it as much as I did. Did they feel like my mom's? Did they feel better than my mom's? I hope so.

God, I shouldn't even be saying that - that's so gross. I'm just having such a hard time forgetting what happened. I'm practically obsessing over it. It was a MISTAKE and I should get over it. I need to get over it. It was just one little thing, why do I have to turn it into something it's not? Maybe it's because I've never been touched that way, I've never felt warm like that. It wasn't uncomfortable, like hey why are you touching me like that - it was more of a happy feeling, a feeling of security. I think I've just always been curious as to how sex was supposed to feel good (not that I've ever even thought about that with Benji, because I haven't) and I got a glimpse, an actual understanding of how maybe it is possible for it to feel good.

I guess I've just always longed to be touched like that, because every time I've had sex, the guy has never touched me sensually - it's always been rough and careless.

My hand hurt by the time I finished saying everything I had to express.

I close my journal and tuck it safely under my pillow. I ended up dozing off not long after, dreams of Benji dancing through my head even though I didn't want them to.

I dreamt of images, flashes of his face - some of his bright smile, others of him removing his shirt, revealing his manly, hairy chest, making that funny feeling return to my stomach.