Kimberly and her sister, Jordan. Now, which one of these two little girls is predestined to develop a personality disorder as she gets older?
“But you’re twenty-one!” My sister was appalled.Fidgeting with my food, I glanced down at the black napkin in my lap. It was not that formal a restaurant.
“Kimmie, I’m only telling you this because you deserve to know the truth: virgins are not attractive people.”
I continued my chewing. “These rolls are delicious.”
Frustrated, she grabbed the bread basket and put it on her side of the table. “Aren’t you seeing someone?”
“Yeah, sort of. But it’s casual.”
“Meaning you’re not exclusive?”
“Um. Well, he’s not.”
Jordan’s eyes closed. “I feel so very sorry for you.”
At once my defenses rose. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that for weeks Rusty Schiestenheimer couldn’t keep his hands off me.”
“Who the hell is Rusty Schiestenheimer?”
“Who is Rusty Schiestenheimer?! Only my best non-imaginary friend growing up, that’s who!”
“That crossed-eyed kid you used to hang out with all the time?” Jordan snorted. “He was legally blind, Kimberly. Not trying to feel you up.”
“Rusty was a gentleman and I loved him very much.”
“Gross.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.” My grumbles had me sounding like that suicidal horse from Winnie-the-Pooh.
Jordan widened her eyes. “No, I’m glad you did! I can help you. When’s the next time you’re seeing him?”
“Who, Rusty? His dad got a new job so they moved to Minneapolis when we were in the third grade.”
“I’m not talking about Rusty, you dumbass. When’s the next time you’ll be with the guy you’ve been seeing?”
Oh Jesus. She was starting to rummage through her Parisian handbag. “Thursday night, but you really don’t have to do that–”
Jordan took out her orange leather wallet and removed two business cards. When my hands remained still, she reached over to force them open and placed the cards inside.
“Park Place Salon?”
“I thought you could call them about a pedicure. And a manicure. But especially a pedicure.”
I flipped over the next card. “Kendra Lipton. Esthetician?”
Strands of spaghetti fell from her mouth. “She’ll wax you.”
My hands went to my lap.
“Relax, spaz,” Jordan reproached, twirling her fork. “You won’t feel a thing.”
I flipped both cards over again and set them on the table. “I don’t really know if Lewis is worth all this. I saw him kick my dog the other day, and I’m pretty sure he’s stealing from me.”
“He’s worth it if he finally screws you.”
“Oh my gawd, you did not just say that!” I looked around, nervous of a sudden audience. “I don’t want to be screwed!”
“But don’t you want to have sex like a hot girl?”
“Jordan, I’m not going to lie to you; I have no idea what that means.”
It seemed my sister had rapidly developed a migraine just then, and her fingers tugged at her platinum blonde hairline as I waited for her to speak. “I think you should probably keep your cell phone nearby so you’ll be able to call me in the event of an emergency and/or when you do something extremely stupid.”
Fraudulence filled my conscience. “This isn’t the way it works though, right? I mean, who goes out on a date only hoping for sex?”
“Um. Men?”
“Oh.”
Jordan sensed my anxiety and, for a moment, attempted an offer. “You’re outgoing enough. To keep things running smoothly, just bring up something trivial that’ll keep his interest for the rest of the night.”
I opened my mouth.
“And not about the supposed death of Rasputin.”
I closed my mouth.
***
Despite his alleged kleptomania, Lewis had an enigmatic nature to his persona that I found myself attracted to not long after our initial meeting. And while such mysteriousness was appealing, it also had me at a loss as to what kind of man Lewis actually was. We’d been on multiple dates and yet, I still didn’t know him all that well. Perhaps that was why, when he kissed me so hard upon my opening the front door, I started to giggle. Instead of pulling away, the chortle appeared only to encourage him, and Lewis began to embrace me even more with that very curious, very aggressive mouth of his. His gesture pushed me backwards, causing me to lose balance in the high heels I had little experience in ever wearing.
“Lewis!” I inhaled, grasping the wall for poise. “We’re not even in my apartment yet!”
“So?” His reply did not deter his kiss.
“Alright there, Quagmire.” I backed into my living room and closed the door once he had followed. Purposely, I left it unlocked. “Let’s just slow down a bit.” My feet felt frozen. I couldn’t do this with someone I didn’t love, let alone, someone I scarcely knew. While I’ve never possessed a shy bone in my body, I was aware I couldn’t feign that kind of nerve. Leaving Lewis in the foyer, I stepped out of my heels and went to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator for a prop of distraction. “What can I get you to drink? I have skim milk, prune juice, a V8, Ensure…”
“How about this?” At once, he was leaning over me and reached downwards, pulling out by its neck a bottle of champagne- a gift from Ashley on the day my orthodontist informed me I no longer had to wear my retainer.
Unsure of myself, I opted for silency as I watched him pour the drink, then hand me my glass.
“I have a secret,” Lewis whispered, inching closer.
“Oh?” I hoped he might sense the indifference in my tone. He definitely did not.
“I get so hot thinking about you.” The lids of his eyes were dropping with alarming speed, from inebriation or a sorry stature for seduction, I wasn’t sure of which. “What about you, Miss McDole? What are your secrets?”
“Uh.” My own eyes were scanning my apartment’s entirety for a whistle, noisemaker, or gong of some kind. Nothing. I was doomed.
“Yes?” His breath smelled like alcohol and Axe body spray when he went in to kiss my ear.
“Well,” I began, bringing my shoulders up to my neck to ward off those insatiable lips. “I don’t seem to be able to jump on a trampoline without losing control of my bladder and peeing all over the place. I don’t know what it is; something about the repeated jumping- that kind of physicality- along with the adrenaline rush. No matter what, I just urinate. Everywhere. Seriously. Everywhere. On myself, on the trampoline, on anyone else within four feet of me. I’m telling you, it’s crazy.”
***
“What, were you raised by wolves?” My sister asked over lunch the following day, her voice escalating with every word. “The hell is wrong with you; get your ass back over there and seduce him!”
“Well, it’s too late now, stupid. He’s long gone.”
“Call him!”
“It’s not right! I don’t love Lewis. I don’t even think I like him.” The look of absolute horror on her face let me know Jordan was left unconvinced. “It just doesn’t feel right,” I repeated, somehow bashful at the words.
“Next time, just imagine that you’re with the man of your dreams. Close your eyes and picture that ideal guy in his place. Doing that always makes for better sex.”
“But Conan O’Brien is married, so that’s just as bad, if not worse.”
Jordan and me now....Still trying to copy her twenty years later.
Jordan’s expression portrayed both amusement and a pity I knew I would never see through. She gathered up her things and placed a twenty on the table. “I gotta get back to work.” Slowly my sister bent to kiss me on the cheek before walking out the diner’s door. I pushed away my plate and sat watching her go, silent and missing Rusty.
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