A Place In This Life

Chapter 13

Coming home in the middle of the night — or in the early morning in my case — was tricky, as my parents' bedroom was right next to the front door. Naturally, the porch light would be on, glaring into their bed through the blinds, keeping my mother awake and aware that her daughter had not come home yet. But she would never just sit in a chair and wait for me. No. The guilt would be given after sunrise.

I stumbled to the bathroom in the late morning, my eyes opened half-way, only to find that Taylor had already hogged it.

"I hardly got any sleep last night, thank you," said my mother, rounding the corner to stand with me while I waited for the bathroom.

"Sorry, mom. I didn't mean to stay out that late. Time got away from me."

"Time goes by when you're having fun... I used to be a teenager, too," she said.

"Do you forgive me?" I said with a slight bit of vocal tension.

"You know how sick I feel when I don't get enough sleep. Please don't do it again."

"I won't. I promise."

The bathroom door opened with a cloud of Glade. Taylor had a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing that he'd held me up.

"It's time to get ready for soccer," my mom said, following Taylor while I escaped to the bathroom.

I splashed cold water on my face and noticed a faint red rash on my chin from the makeout session. My mom had probably also noticed it, but kept to herself. A little makeup would hopefully help. First I would need a good scrub.

When I'm tired, I count things to keep my mind in line. This morning it was the tiles in the shower enclosure. They stretched 12 across. I estimated how many rows down, lost count when I dropped the soap, and had to start over again. The grout needed bleaching, but that didn't deter me from counting how many corners there were between the tiles, which was more complex than counting the tiles alone. I was frickin' neurotic.

The counting failed to soothe me, and I switched to perfectly unzipping and zipping my makeup bag. It took at least five minutes to open it to my satisfaction and remove a bottle of foundation. The red chin had faded a little with the shower, and I soon made it disappear with a good slathering of Cover Girl.

At my dressing table, I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling the dampness lifting into the tepid atmosphere as I thought about Alex. What an event! It made my tummy squeal all over again when I thought of his lips kissing me, and then kissing me again. And again. His hands remained at my waist and never wandered into Todd territory. I wondered if Todd had called.

The "Welcome to Your Phone" message played as I waited for the cell to boot-up. A small red square flashed in the window.

"Hi Nally, it's Todd. I told you I'd call. Where are you?

"Look, I want to make it up to you... what happened today with my mom was really shitty. Call me... please."

The message was left right around the time the movie had ended.

I started polishing my toes to delay having to reciprocate any sooner than necessary. I needed time to think about why I didn't answer Todd's call, but my mind thought about different things like how Todd's touch was different than Alex's. Or that Todd was understandably more needy with his life on-hold. He was also more lived-in and anything but a virgin, with a jaded eye that had found someone new to set its sights on.

I felt like a target, about to get nailed.

Alex was pure and beautiful in his innocence. He knew about the functioning of courtship, kissing, and probably sex, but had limited experience with each. This put him on par with me, the queen virgin, and I felt safe with him — he would not try to "jump my bones" or coerce me into something uncomfortable. We could go slowly.