“These were wealthy women who knew how to take care of themselves, so yeah, they were all attractive, not women I would have chosen for myself, but they were attractive, nonetheless. I couldn’t have done it if the person repulsed me.” When I stopped talking for several seconds, he asked, “Are you okay?”
My emotions were all over the place, and at one point, I lost my composure a bit. “God, Landon, how could you let them take advantage of you like that?”
“I was lost—depressed. Some people turn to drugs or cutting, other forms of self-harm. I turned to using my body but managed to convince myself it wasn’t that bad because I was benefitting financially. The way I saw it, I was doing it in fancy, private places on my own terms, not selling myself on the street to just anyone. On the best day, I had myself convinced that it wasn’t really prostitution, that it was something else. I didn’t account for the fact that a little piece of my soul was being stripped away each time, and that it would all eventually hit me at once. I also didn’t take into account that I would have to look into your eyes someday and admit to you that I sold my body. I wasn’t thinking…period.”
I pondered whether what he did was really all that different than my having sex as a teenager with boys who were using me. Sure, they weren’t paying me, but they were using me just the same.
Over the next hour, as painful as it was, I kept asking Landon question after question. I didn’t want to have to talk about the details ever again, so I made sure every bit of morbid curiosity was satisfied. He was being so amazingly open with me, even though I knew it was really difficult for him.
Among other things, he told me that most of the women wanted more than just missionary sex. They asked him to play into their bad boy fantasies, things like being slapped, sworn at, called a slut, or screwed from behind while having their hair pulled—things their husbands didn’t do. One woman even asked him to piss on her. I couldn’t believe he was admitting all of this to me, but in a way, it was a relief to know I wouldn’t have to wonder about any of it anymore. It was basically the ugly truth, but at least it was the truth.
It freaked me out a little, because as he was telling me some of this stuff, I found myself getting turned on. It was a natural reaction to my imagination putting Landon into any kind of sexual scenario.
I refused to block out the sexual images, though. It was the only way I could rid my mind of them, to let them be there and to let them pass.
At a certain point, the woman in my mind morphed into an image of myself. I imagined Landon doing some of those things to me, striking my ass, pulling my hair, lashing at my skin with his tongue. Under the circumstances of our talk, though, it was disturbing, and I could never have admitted that to him.
We’d stayed up talking late into the night.
The following morning, I woke up feeling like I was hung over, even though I hadn’t been drinking. I realized the feeling was a direct result of finally unleashing all of those bottled-up questions to Landon. Because he’d been so forthright with me, there truly wasn’t a need to ever have to revisit any of it again.
It had been mentally exhausting, but there was no other choice. You can’t put out a fire by dancing around it. You have to deal with it, douse it with water until there’s nothing left. Once the fire’s out, you can either choose to rebuild or abandon the rubble.
I knew he wanted assurance that I wasn’t going to judge him for his past indiscretions. He was adamant about the fact that he couldn’t handle a relationship with me if I planned on continuously holding his past against him.
So, I really needed to take some time and look inside myself to be sure that I wouldn’t do that to him.
I spent a good portion of that afternoon just sitting in silence. I realized that even though I may have been disappointed in his past decisions, at no point did his confession ever stop me from caring about him. If anything, feelings of love felt even stronger, like all of the emotions I’d ever felt toward him came alive at once and banded together in solidarity to protect and forgive him.
Later that evening, deciding to do something I hadn’t done in a while, I meandered over to my closet, pulling out the black backpack.
I took out some of the folded notes that I could tell were ones I hadn’t read in the past year.
I opened one.
Rana Banana,
Why do feet smell and noses run? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
Landon
P.S. I smelled your feet once when you fell asleep on the hammock in the yard. They smell like Fritos.
P.P.S. Just kidding (Maybe). Now, I want chips.
Smiling, I folded it back up before opening another.
Rana Banana,
Sometimes I forget that you actually live in my garage. Before my dad turned it into an apartment, I used to park my scooter right where you sleep! Now, I have to leave it outside.
Landon
P.S. That’s okay. I would rather have you here than a place to park my scooter.
Crying and smiling, I opened another one.
Rana Banana,
Did you know that Rana means frog in Spanish? I learned that in school today.
Landon
P.S. I think it would be really cool if you started croaking.
P.P.S. “Ribbit.”
The next one made my heart drop for a moment, because I remembered all of the feelings of jealousy and confusion that ensued the very first time I’d read it all those years ago.
Rana Banana,
Kelsie tried to kiss me today. I think she’s really pretty, but it seemed weird. I turned my head away. I was in the middle of eating WarHeads, plus I was afraid you’d find out. I know you don’t like her.
Landon
P.S. Would it have made you mad if I let her kiss me?
P.P.S. Have you ever kissed anyone?
P.P.P.S. Maybe we could practice on each other some time. You know, so it’s not weird when we actually kiss somebody for real.
Even though Landon and I never ended up kissing back then, that note reminded me how much I had missed after we moved away and again brought back the feelings of jealousy toward Kelsie, knowing that she eventually became his very first girlfriend. After everything he’d confessed to me, I was still jealous of Kelsie? I knew how ridiculous that was. I gladly folded that note and put it away.
The final note that I opened really resonated with me and felt like the one I was meant to end on.
Rana Banana,
I’m sorry I told my mom you hit her car with your bike. I should’ve just taken the blame. She wasn’t mad, though. She said we all make mistakes. Anyway, I’m sorry you cried. I’ve never seen you cry before. That sucked.
Landon
P.S. Maybe it’s not really a mistake if you learn from it.