In my wallet, I had a calling card I had won in the monthly dorm raffle. I found a pay phone and called my mom.
“Grace, how are you, darling?” She sounded busy. I could hear my father yelling at my siblings in the background.
“How is everyone?”
“Your father lost his job again.”
“Oh no, not again,” I said, though I wasn’t the least bit surprised.
She gave an exasperated sigh. “Yes, again.”
“I really wanted to come back for Christmas. I can get a seasonal job at the mall and help out.”
“Oh, Grace, that would be wonderful. Can you afford the flight?”
“I thought instead of getting Christmas presents from you and Dad, I could get a flight home instead?” A tiny glimmer of hope flickered within me.
Her next words snuffed it out. “We can’t afford it, honey. I’m sorry.”
I hadn’t been home for almost a year. I felt sorry for my mother and I didn’t want to burden her, but I was sick for home and I missed my siblings, their chatter, and the energy that I felt in our house, even when times were tough. The thought of spending the holidays in Senior House by myself was frightening. It was like the last weeks of summer when I was alone. Before Matt had arrived.
Cue long, uncomfortable silence. “Okay, Mom. Hey, I need to save the minutes on this card.”
“Okay, I understand. We love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
I spent the afternoon alone in my room drinking cheap wine and feeling sorry for my mother, but mostly for myself. My door was cracked when Matt came down the hall after work late that night.
He pushed it open. “Knock-knock.”
“Come in. Hang out.” I was playing my cello near the window, wearing Matt’s Ramone’s T-shirt.
He came in and set down his messenger bag. “Guess I’m never getting my shirt back.”
I looked at him smirking near the door. Something came over me. I stood up and walked toward him, brazenly pulling his shirt over my head. I was wearing nothing but a bra and underwear. I handed him the shirt. “There you go.”
He blinked. “Um . . .”
“Kiss me, Matt.”
He kicked the door shut with his foot. “Are you drunk?”
“Kiss me.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hand went to my lower back as he leaned in and then, finally, he kissed me.
At first the kiss was slow and delicate, but then we moved faster, tongues twisting, hands roaming. Our skinned burned with heat, and everything felt more urgent. We kissed and kissed, and soon I was aching for him to touch me everywhere.
I fumbled with his belt.
“I got it,” he said, kicking his shoes off. While I removed my bra and panties, he took off his jeans. I moved my hand to the front of his boxers. “Will you?” I asked.
“Will I what?” he said, breathlessly.
“Have sex with me?”
He cupped my neck and tilted my head up to look him in the face. There was pure reverence in his eyes. “You want it to be me?”
I nodded.
He leaned in and kissed me again and then his mouth moved to my ear. “Grace, I have never wanted anything more in my entire life than to be inside of you right now.” Nerves shot through my legs and arms just thinking of him inside of me. “But we’re not going to do this when you’ve been drinking so much. Trust me. Okay?”
“I feel brave, though.”
“I know, but you don’t want to be numb.”
“Don’t I?” I whispered.
“No, baby.”
I knew he was right. “Okay.”
He held me to his chest for a few seconds before breaking away. I reached out and touched him through his boxers. “We can do other stuff.”
I saw the muscles in his neck move as he swallowed. “Get into bed,” he said, and I did. He slipped his boxers off. It was the first time I saw him like that, naked and vulnerable, and so painfully turned on that I actually felt sorry for him. It wasn’t the first penis I had seen, but under the circumstances it was definitely the most shocking. It scared me a little. I couldn’t believe I was practically begging him for it a second earlier.
When he saw my terrified expression, he said, “Don’t worry, it’ll feel good when you’re ready.”
He slid into bed behind me, spooning me. Our bodies were hot as we pressed against each other. He brushed my hair to one side and kissed my shoulder. I shivered and then relaxed into his arms and closed my eyes.
He held one hand around my waist and the other caressed the sides of my breast as he continued trailing kisses across the back of my neck.
“Why were you upset with me the other day? I meant to ask you,” he whispered. I shrugged. “Tell me.”
“Because Carey and Jason said everyone in the photo department has an orgy in the dark room on Fridays.”
His chest rumbled with laughter. “That is ridiculous. I’ll take you to the darkroom this Friday. There’s no one in there except a couple of art nerds, like me.”
“Why would they say that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a campus urban myth.”