Part 8 (1/2)

I know this one. ”Just friends of Suralee's. She's known them a long time. They're brothers. They play baseball.” ”Just friends of Suralee's. She's known them a long time. They're brothers. They play baseball.”

My mother waited.

”They're real nice.”

”So the nice boys and you and Suralee had some drinks.”

I stared into s.p.a.ce, as if trying to remember.

”Diana.”

”Yes!”

”Anything else happen?”

I stared at my hands. The little p.r.i.c.kly hairs of his blond crew cut, the way he smelled so good. How nice it was to be hugged. But the way he forced my mouth open when he kissed me and slung his tongue around, the way he stopped talking to me. The rocking motion of his hips against mine when we lay on the floor, so hard I thought he'd leave bruises. The little p.r.i.c.kly hairs of his blond crew cut, the way he smelled so good. How nice it was to be hugged. But the way he forced my mouth open when he kissed me and slung his tongue around, the way he stopped talking to me. The rocking motion of his hips against mine when we lay on the floor, so hard I thought he'd leave bruises. ”What do you mean?” I said. ”What do you mean?” I said.

”I mean, did anything else happen.”

”Well, we talked. And...that's about it.”

She said nothing, and I burst into tears.

”What happened?” she said, and in a rush, I told her. We kissed, he touched me, I threw up, Suralee got mad, I came home. That's all. The end.

My mother nodded. Then she said, ”Well. You're growing up quickly, aren't you?”

I shrugged.

”It's wonderful to grow up-all these exciting adventures, all these new privileges.”

I said nothing.

”Of course, with any privilege comes responsibility, wouldn't you say that's true?”

”I'm really really tired. Can I just go to bed now? Can we just talk about this tomorrow?” tired. Can I just go to bed now? Can we just talk about this tomorrow?”

It was as though she hadn't heard me at all. ”Now, in this case, we're talking about s.e.x. Huh. I would have thought you were a bit young for that. But you've decided otherwise. Now, you told me this young man touched you. Did you like it?”

I was deeply embarra.s.sed. ”No.”

”Is that all he did, was touch you?”

”Yes!”

”All right. Well, here's what I can tell you, Diana. You say you didn't like it. And maybe that's true.”

”It is true!”

”But if you didn't like it this time, it doesn't mean you won't like it next time.”

”What next time.” My foot started wiggling, and I stopped it. I was now past giddiness and into a kind of ragged irritation. I really was tired; I so much wanted to go to bed. I was still dizzy, and I could feel some nausea returning.

”Oh, there will be a next time,” she said. ”And a time after that. And what you're going to have to know is how to handle yourself when those situations arise. Now, this time maybe you just felt awkward.”

Not true. I had mostly liked it. I had felt on fire. At first, I had wanted him to never stop.

”But at some point,” my mother said, ”it's not going to feel awkward. And then you're really going to need some willpower. Do you think you have willpower?”

”I guess so.”

”I don't think that answer is quite good enough, Diana. Because if you get in situations like that again and you don't have willpower, you'll go too far. And you'll end up in trouble. Believe me.”

I looked at her, outraged. ”I'm not going to get pregnant! I would never do that.”

”Never say never,” my mother said in a singsong way. I wondered, suddenly, if my mother had been pregnant when she got married. But I didn't want to ask, for all it would say about me.

”You've apparently decided that you can handle the pleasure of s.e.x,” my mother said. ”I want to make sure you can handle the responsibility. So here's what I want you to do. I know you're really tired. I know you want to go to bed. What I want you to do is stay up for a few hours.”

”What? Why? Why?”

”Because you need to understand that sometimes your body is going to be asking you so hard for something and you're going to have to know how to not give in to it. This will give you an idea.”

”Okay,” I said. ”I'll stay up for a few hours.”

”And I'll stay up with you. You just stay there.” She nodded. ”You stay right there. But first get me a fresh drink of water. You might want one yourself. This is going to take awhile, and it's going to be hard.”

And it was. Many times I went to the kitchen to splash cold water on my face so that I could wake up a little. A few times I told her I got got it, I understood, could I just go to bed now. Each time she said no. Once, I took aspirin for the aches in my body. Nothing felt comfortable-not the floor, not the chair beside her bed. it, I understood, could I just go to bed now. Each time she said no. Once, I took aspirin for the aches in my body. Nothing felt comfortable-not the floor, not the chair beside her bed.

We talked sometimes. The lights were out; I could see only the dim outline of my mother, and this, combined with the s.p.a.ciness of extreme fatigue, made for a kind of freedom of inquiry. Once I asked her why, when she was in the iron lung, everyone was so pessimistic about what her life would be when she was discharged.

”They didn't want me to be disappointed,” she said. ”They were trying to be realistic. There was one crazy nurse there who made us all feel better, though. She looked at people who had polio as a privileged group, like a secret society. She said we had superior nervous systems, much more organized than most and therefore more susceptible to disease. She said such highly developed systems indicated great abilities or talents.” She laughed. ”Not that we could do anything with it. But for many, it was nice to believe.”

”Did you believe it?” I asked.

She hesitated, then said, ”Yes. Sometimes I did.”

At another point, I asked her, ”What's the hardest thing?”

”About what?” she asked.

”About...being you. The way you are now, I mean.”

A long pause, and then she said, ”When I went out tonight, we pa.s.sed a rosebush, and there were petals on the ground beneath it. I wanted them. I used to sprinkle them places-in my bathwater, into little bowls around the house. I was thinking of how I'd like to have a bowl full of rose petals beside me at night, but I couldn't ask Brooks to stop and get some for me.”

”Why? Was it too hard to talk?” She had a lot of difficulty talking when she was breathing on her own.

”No. Because it would have been too much to ask. You get a sense about what you can and cannot ask for. Brooks was already doing so much. He was nervous. He was gripping the wheel, and he had this little band of perspiration above his lip. He was just staring so hard at the road! I think Peacie scared the h.e.l.l out of him.