“No, I guess not,” I say. I stand up and start to take off his jacket. He opens his mouth and starts to put his hand out like he’s holding traffic, then stops. He takes the jacket from me.
“Thanks,” we say at the same time. We both smile weakly. “Good night,” I say. He nods and walks off the porch.
“Hey, wait,” he says. I look back at him. He is standing at the imaginary line that divides my yard from his. “It’s a little past my curfew now. If Mom’s mad in the morning, can I use you as an excuse?”
“Sure,” I say. “Tell her I bawled my eyes out on your shoulder.” He smiles again.
“She’ll love that,” he says. “Not you crying but, you know. G’night,” he says. I turn away again and go inside.
***
I lie in my cold bed and look at the light coming from Finny’s bedroom window. I remember how, whenever I was sad, I would signal him with my flashlight, and he would take the cup up on his side of the string strung between our windows, and we would talk until we both fell asleep. It’s a long time before the light goes out.
21
Jamie said that once he had his driver’s license, we would be free to be together whenever we liked. Nothing would keep us apart except my curfew.
Mostly we just drive around. Sometimes we park behind the library and make out. It’s uncomfortable with my head pressing into the door and my knees bent, but I pretend that it isn’t because I like the idea of making out in his car; like a scene from a movie, the windows fog up in the cold and the radio plays our song.
I don’t know much about driving. Jamie is the only other person my age I’ve ridden with, but I think he must be a good driver. I feel safe with him. I like to watch him drive, to study his profile, to see his eyes focused away from me. He is so remote from me, and it makes me want him more.
My mother has always said that my father will teach me to drive someday, and I’m still waiting for that day. For now, it doesn’t matter; there is never a place I want to be that Jamie isn’t going too.
***
Finny got his driver’s license on his birthday. Aunt Angelina taught him to drive ages ago. She says he is a good driver, but she is still terrified of him killing himself on the road some night. It’s hard for me to understand how she jumps so quickly from driving to death. Every night, people ride around in cars without dying.
I am a virgin, and I cannot drive.
I am afraid of losing my virginity in Jamie’s car. I stay on guard for a fit of passion that could cause me to make this crucial mistake, but it never comes. I’m in control when I let him slide his finger inside me; I know what’s happening when he takes my hand and cups it around his erection.
I never let Jamie see me when we touch each other and I never look at him. When I open my shirt and let him kiss my breasts, I watch him to make sure his eyes are closed. I want him to see me for the first time when we make love. It’s part of my daydream—slowly undressing each other and seeing for the first time all of the secret parts of us we have hidden.
And it makes me less afraid.
***
One evening, Jamie asks me to hold the wheel for him as he reaches for a CD. I trust that if he asks me to do it, then it must mean I can do it. I nearly run us off the road. Jamie grabs the wheel and rights us again.
“Geez, Autumn,” he mumbles. He doesn’t say anything else until he pulls into my driveway at curfew. “Maybe you should never learn to drive,” he says after he kisses me. “I can’t stand the idea of you killing yourself.”
I know that someday I will die, and I know that someday I will lose my virginity; these two things seem equally probable, equally impossible.
Finny’s curfew is half an hour later than mine, and on the weekends I listen for his car as I lie in bed waiting for sleep. It’s comforting, hearing his motor and then the car door slam, the creak of his back door. I watch for the sudden glow of his bedroom window when he flicks on the light. He crosses the room with his shirt off. His light goes out again, and I know he is lying in his bed by the window, two panes of glass and twenty feet of air separating us.
22
I’m feeling sick the last day of the semester, but I have to go—I have three finals that day. I stare at the clock all morning, counting the hours until I can go home and go to bed. At lunch, I start to feel nauseous and only have a bottled water. Jamie is sweet to me and strokes my hair when I lay my head on the table.
“Baby, I think you should go home,” he says. I rock my head back and forth on the table to signify shaking my head no. After lunch, Jamie carries my book bag to Mr. Laughegan’s class for me. I don’t bother going through his drawers today; I immediately go to my own desk and slump down in the seat. With Christmas coming and two weeks of freedom just a few hours away, everyone else is in a great mood, test or no test. I listen to the sound of the other kids filing in and taking their desks and I want to die. Jamie lays one hand on my back and talks to Sasha about a movie they both want to see that I don’t. The others are making plans to go to the mall, complaining about visiting relatives, talking about catching up on sleep. Sleep sounds good to me.
Mr. Laughegan’s test is easy for me, even in my weakened condition. I finish first and lay the bundle of papers face down on Mr. Laughegan’s desk. He looks at me, and I know he is taking in my pale skin and blank expression. I smile weakly at him before he can ask me if I am okay. I walk to my seat and think that I should study for my geometry exam, but my stomach is feeling worse and I go back to resting my head on my desk.
By the time nearly everyone else is done with the test, I am wondering if I’m going to throw up. My insides are churning below my ribcage and my saliva glands are working in my mouth; I may need to make an exit. I try to gauge just how likely it is that I’m about to vomit. I don’t feel like I can leave unless it is a certainty, but I cannot abide the idea of not making it to the bathroom on time. I’m across the room from the door. There is a trashcan between me and the threshold, but that would be a fate worse than death.
The last student lays her test down on Mr. Laughegan’s desk and he stands.
“Okay, what did you guys think of the test?” he says. I bolt out of my seat and run for the door with my hand over my mouth. Mr. Laughegan steps to the side as I barrel past him. “Jamie, Finn, sit back down please,” I hear him say as I run into the hallway.
It turns out my timing is perfect, though I couldn’t have waited a second longer. I kneel on the floor of the stall with one hand holding my hair back and the other holding my tiara in place so that it doesn’t fall in.
Afterward, I rinse my mouth out in the sink and look at my face in the mirror. I’m still pale but I feel much better. I take a deep breath. There are still twenty minutes left in class. I need to go back before Mr. Laughegan sends someone to check on me.