I normally work on Tuesday afternoons, but I have an archaeology paper due on Friday so I’d booked the day off to give myself time to prepare. Instead of heading straight home after my morning class, however, I bike over to the student health center for a hastily-made appointment. Even though I know that the odds of having an STI are slim—I’ve been with six guys and always used condoms—I’m still shaking when I pee in a cup and hand it to a nurse who promises to call with the results in a few days.
By the time I get home I’m only slightly calmer than I was, and the last thing I want to find is Kellan and Crosbie huddled at the dining table poring over Kellan’s sex-partner notebook. Fuck. Another thing I shouldn’t really worry about, but most definitely will. Because with the exception of a positive test result, the last thing I want is for Crosbie to help Kellan cross names off his long list of sexcapades, knowing that mine is supposed to be on there.
“Still working on that, huh?” I hope I sound casual and not shrill as I dump my things in my room before joining them at the table. I’d overheard Kellan calling Crosbie last night and correctly assumed he’d told him everything, and now here he is, like a good best friend, comparing the names/descriptions Kellan had jotted down with something on his phone. “What are you doing, exactly?”
Kellan and I are at either end of the table, Crosbie seated in between, and now he turns his phone so I can see the display: it’s a close up shot of the bathroom wall in the Student Union building. Kellan’s list.
I try to keep my expression neutral, but Crosbie’s watching me, no doubt waiting for some sort of Crosbabe rant. Instead I say, “Have you made any calls?”
Kellan nods. “It went about as uncomfortably as you’d expect.”
“He’s working his way back,” Crosbie explains. “Starting with the most recent girls and asking them to call if they get a positive result.”
“I use condoms,” Kellan interrupts. “I swear. So however this happened, it wasn’t like I was spreading it around after.”
I nod like I’m in total agreement. When I’d gone for the test the nurse asked if I’d had either oral or anal sex with the infected person, since that would require a swab. Kellan and I had done neither, but since I’d witnessed him getting a condom-free blowjob—forty-five minutes after we’d screwed in a closet—I know there’s one opportunity for him to have picked it up. And if it happened once, it could have happened twice. Or—I squint at the notebook—sixty-two times. Well, sixty-one, since I can eliminate myself from the possible oral gonorrhea givers.
I frown and pick up the notebook. The bathroom wall gives actual names, since it’s not Kellan who updates it. Kellan’s notes, however, are quite different. There are entries like: starts with a C or K, blonde in blue dress, hostess from that tapas place, girl from bus stop, and girl who looked like Kate Middleton.
“Did you never ask them their names?” I ask. “Even once?” It’s not much of a consolation prize, but at least I’m not the only nameless entity in this mess. Though I don’t appear to warrant much of a description, either.
“Hey,” Crosbie says, shooting me a sharp look when Kellan winces. “No judgment.”
I roll my eyes. He’s on that bathroom wall too, and we all know it. It’s not only Kellan’s honor he’s trying to defend.
“No judgment,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “It would just make things a bit…easier.”
Kellan sighs. “I know. Lesson learned.”
I tap the top of the list. “So these are the most recent girls?” There are about ten candidates spanning October and November.
“Yeah. I spoke with three of them today, since they’re in my science lab and we have a class contact list.” Oh dear. “And these two work at that bar near the library, so I can probably find them pretty easily. This one—” He points to number six, known as Pink shorts with stripe. “She runs the same route as me on Thursdays, so I can talk to her then. Number seven is Dane’s sister, and eight is his cousin—”
“Dane?” Crosbie interrupts, looking alarmed. “Dane who lives down the hall from me? Dane who thinks his sister’s going to become a nun?”
Kellan whistles. “She’s definitely not going to be a nun.”
“Oh Jesus.”
“Can you ask Dane for their numbers? Um, and their names?”
“Kill me.” Crosbie looks at me. “Please, Nora. Just put me out of my misery before Dane does.” He turns to Kellan. “How did you meet them? They don’t even go to Burnham.”
“They were at the Halloween party.”
“You said you didn’t hook up that night!”
“I didn’t say I didn’t get a few numbers and call them the next week!”
“What about Miss Louisiana?”
“I got her number, too.” He holds up a hand proudly. “And her name is Dana.” A pause. “Or Darla.”