My Life After Now

9

Memory




My feelings toward Lisa were so confusing—I hated her now more than ever, yet there was a lot less tension around the house now that we were all in agreement that she would stay with us at least until the baby was born.

I finally told Max and Courtney the whole story after rehearsal on Monday.

“So that explains why you’ve been acting so weird lately,” Max said.

Well, partially.

“But why didn’t you tell us?” Courtney asked.

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I guess I just had to work through it myself before I could talk about it with anyone.”

Courtney gave me a big hug. “You can always come to us, Lucy.”

I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, guys.”

“Now let’s get to the good stuff,” Max said. “What’s going on with you and Evan?”

“We’ve only been on one date, Max. It’s way too early to tell.” But I couldn’t stop blushing.

That very morning, I’d left for school to find Evan waiting for me in the driveway, leaning against his car.

“Oh! Hi!” I said, surprised but not at all disappointed to see him.

“Hey,” he said, and the corner of his mouth turned up.

We stood there like that for an extended moment, grinning at each other in the dewy morning air, and then sprang into action at the same time, our lips meeting before any other part of our bodies. I really hoped my dads weren’t witnessing this, but it felt so good to be near Evan again that I didn’t bother turning away from him to check.

When we finally did break apart, I played with the collar of his jacket and murmured, “So…what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining.”

“I woke up this morning with this grand plan to bring you breakfast and drive you to school,” he said. “But it wasn’t until I was pulling into your driveway that it dawned on me that you might think this was totally creepy and stalkery of me, showing up like this without calling. I don’t want you to think I’m one of those possessive, no-woman-of-mine-is-gonna-drive-herself-places types.”

“I don’t think that,” I said, laughing.

“Well, even so, I’m not driving you,” he said decisively. “We’ll take separate cars and meet at school.”

“Evan, that’s ridiculous. Not to mention bad for the environment.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, then you drive me to school.”

He was so adorable. “Deal.” He moved to get in the passenger side of my car. “Wait,” I said. “What about breakfast?”

“Oh yeah!” He leaned in through his car window and took out several bags from various restaurants. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a few choices.” He spread everything out on the car hood. “OJ, coffee with milk and sugar, black coffee, and a good old-fashioned Coca-Cola in case you’re pro-caffeine but anti-coffee.”

I selected the black coffee with a wordless smile.

He nodded approvingly. “I like your style. And for food, we have a fine selection of bagel with cream cheese, fruit salad, jelly donut, and egg whites on whole wheat.”

I chose the bagel and gave him a kiss on a cheek. “This was really sweet, Evan. Thank you.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome. Now, drive me to school, woman!”

I burst out in laughter.

• • •

We were growing closer. We started sitting together in homeroom and at lunch, and walking together hand-in-hand in the halls. He neglected the PSP in favor of hanging out with me and my friends during rehearsal downtimes. He made everything better. He knew nearly everything about me, and when my own mind twisted my feelings into an unmanageable ball of confusion, he had a way of making things clear and unintimidating. In some ways, after only a few weeks, Evan knew me better than Ty ever had. I had never even told Ty about Lisa. And he had never asked.

Ty and Elyse were now officially “an item,” as my dads would call it. They’d taken their public displays of affection to a level only two drama queens could. They were always kissing and touching and rubbing each other. But like magic, the closer Evan and I became, the less I cared about Ty and Elyse. Several times I caught her darting a glance my way during a particularly touchy-feely moment between her and Ty, and it killed her that I wasn’t fazed by it anymore.

One Friday night, as Evan and I were leaving the movies, he turned to me and said, “So are you my girlfriend now?” in that ultra-casual way of his.

I laughed. “That depends. Do you want me to be?”

“Oh definitely.”

I grinned. “Well then, yes, I think I am.”

“Cool,” he said.

• • •

We’d been together nearly a month. Evan was over at my house, and for once Dad, Papa, and Lisa were all out. We were alone, up in my room, the door closed. I was playing him some songs on the guitar. But halfway through the second song, something happened. We locked eyes, my fingers stopped moving, the guitar was pushed to the side, and within two seconds we were all over each other.

We’d talked about sex before, but only in the context of our exes. Neither of us was a virgin. But we’d never talked about if or when we’d do it together. And now, it was looking like it was about to happen.

When Ty and I did it for the first time, it was a major production. We’d talked about it for months before we actually did it and planned out everything. The place, the day, the time, the music. Like everything in my life, I’d wanted it to be perfect.

It wasn’t how I’d imagined. I felt weird, being completely naked in front of a boy, even a boy as beautiful and attentive as Ty. And the actual “doing it” part was so awkward. How should we position our bodies? What should we do with our hands? Where should we look? Should we be talking during it or just letting the moment speak for itself?

And it hurt. A lot. So much, in fact, that I still could not believe evolution hadn’t figured out a solution to the whole hymen issue by now. It was over pretty quickly, and I was left wondering why everyone made such a big deal about sex.

Over time, though, I started to understand.

Just like I was understanding now. What it was like to want someone so badly, to feel that magnetic pull toward them, to think it impossible that your bodies could ever be close enough.

Evan’s hands were in my hair, pulling me toward him as we kissed. My hands were on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. I pushed the shirt back off his shoulders, and we parted, gasping, for the briefest of moments while we each yanked our t-shirts over our heads. Then we were back to kissing, and running our hands all over each other’s bodies.

He was shirtless, I was in a bra, and we toppled over onto the bed together.

But as he moved to unbutton my jeans, I froze. Out of nowhere, I was flashing back to the last time someone had undone my jeans—Lee. Memories from that night—drunken, lost memories that I thought I’d never see again—were charging back to me.

Stumbling down Spring Street to an apartment building with a red door.

Lee’s callused guitar-player hands.

His stubble leaving red marks on my skin.

The tequila/cigarette mixture on his breath.

The sound my boots made as I yanked them off and dropped them to the floor.

Having sex several times throughout the night. Not once with protection.

Wait…what?

As that last image blazed across my memory, my entire body tensed up, and I stopped responding to Evan. Evan reacted to the change immediately and pulled back.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worried.

I nodded, my eyes squeezed shut. But I wasn’t okay, not really.

“Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head no. “It’s not you,” I whispered.

“Lucy, it’s okay if you’re not ready.”

I took a few deep breaths, completely failed in my attempt to force Lee out of my brain, and sat up. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t.”

He studied me. I had no idea what he saw. “That’s cool,” he said finally, handing me my shirt.

I hadn’t told Evan about the Lee night. It was probably the only thing I hadn’t told him about myself, but I didn’t want him to think I was the type of person who did things like that. So I didn’t explain anything further now. And for the first time since I’d known him, he didn’t ask any questions.

“You should go,” was the last thing I said to him that night.