Thursday (part 3)

The food was good, the conversation was fun, and to Sajel's surprise, Garrett didn't even ask before settling the entire bill himself. She wasn't sure how to read that either—was he expecting her to be one of those shy, delicate types who had to cover her head when she went outside? Or should she just stop trying to read all his moves and enjoy the dinner?

They didn't go to a movie, afterwards, and Sajel wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or not: a deviation from tradition! Blasphemy! She also wasn't sure how to handle the car ride; the rain had ceased, but the streets gleamed with water, with red and orange and green lines from traffic lights and streetlamps. Garrett drove as recklessly as before, but this time she felt a little more accustomed to it. Still, she couldn't help but quip, "We're not in a movie car chase or anything, Garrett, you can slow down." She pantomimed fear in a rapid, head-turning reaction. "Or are we talking hidden-camera reality TV?"

Garrett slowed down, but grudgingly.

It was at her doorstop that she felt most nervous. This was, after all, the location for most first-date kisses... And she wasn't sure she was into that. Kissing led to embraces. Embracing led to unpleasant discoveries. For the millionth time she wished desperately for an insider's knowledge of dating. Would he take offense if she turned him away? Would he think she didn't want to see him again? How could she do it, subtly and gracefully?—all she could think of was a knee in the groin, a trick her older brother had taught her. It would be a blatant overreaction, and she knew it.

So it was with an odd mix of relief, regret and confusion that she found him leaving her without attempting it. "Wait," she said. "You aren't going to try to kiss me?"

Garrett blinked down at her. He had a disconcerting way of resembling an owl. "Do you want me to?"

"Well, I..." she said.

"Most of the time, a woman makes it pretty clear what she wants," he said. "It's your first date, yes, I'm aware of that, but even then, most women can still get the point across. But all I get from you..." He shrugged. "Is ambiguity. Do you know what you want?"

She stood on the precipice. On one hand, possibility, opportunity, the unknown: a chance to make it work. To have the husband and family and children she had resigned herself to abandoning. On the other hand: rejection, humiliation. Horror, revulsion. Pulling away. The phone calls unreturned, the hellos in the hall that flew straight by. Failure.

It was too much.

"I... It'd probably be better if you didn't," she said.

"Oh," he said. "I'd like to," he offered helpfully.

"I..." I'd like you to too. The words hovered at the tip of her tongue. Did she mean them? They would be so easy to say. "It just... I'm sorry, Garrett. It wouldn't work."

He looked at her silently for a moment. "Because of your problem," he said. "Because of your condition."

"Yes," she said. That blasted condition. "Yes."

He was silent for a moment with his unblinking owl gaze. She squirmed, feeling her scars burning on her back and hip and legs.

"Well," he said finally. "I guess this is good-bye then. Because, Sajel, if you can't open up to me now... Well, how will it be different later? You don't want to tell me, and I can tell you don't intend to ever tell me."

"That's not true," she said.

"Yes, it is," he said. "You're too set in your ways. You've come in with a thousand assumptions, and now you're imprisoned by them. I'm not sure what afflicts you, Sajel, but you're sure—absolutely, positively sure—that it'll stand between you and I. And there's nothing that'll convince you otherwise."

"You don't even know what it is," she said, compressing ultimate scorn into her voice.

"No," he said. He did not flinch before the lash. "I don't. And until I do know, I can only hope it wasn't something life-altering or destructive. Because if it was something relatively non-threatening, like epileptic seizures or sickle-cell anemia or three elbows, then I'm not sure what you're afraid of."

"Because people will hate me," Sajel said. "If they knew. I can't wear bathing suits, did you know that? Or a prom dress. I haven't been swimming since I was eight. I used to love swimming, but I can't now!" Anger surged up in her—bitter, vitriolic, good. She held onto her anger. Even destructiveness was better than powerlessness. "Don't you see? It changed my life. It messed me up. I can't drink alcohol because I'm missing part of my liver. I lost one of my ovaries, at the age of eight. I almost had brain damage. Don't tell me this is just something I can walk away from!"

"I am telling you just that," Garrett said.

Sajel gaped at him, totally flummoxed.

"Judging from what you say," Garrett continued, unperturbed, "it was an accident of some sort, involving bodily injury. Well, Sajel, I'll tell you right now: I can live with that. I'm not sure what the extent of the damage is, cosmetic or otherwise, but I can live with that. The question is: can you?"

And he fixed her with a calm stare.

Sajel gaped at the ground, her mind awhirl. The grass glistened with rain-dew, orange-yellow in the light of the porch lamps. What if... What if what he'd said was true? The grass was getting long; Dad would need to mow soon. What if people would actually be okay with it? All the fallen leaves on the ground, they would muck up the mower if he— She couldn't think about leaves. Couldn't think about her scars. Couldn't think about anything.

What if... What if the only thing holding me back... Is me?

Something was shaking her hip. She glanced down and saw flashing lights, heard a cartoony song: a cellphone. Her cellphone. The faceplate was blue, incised with lightning slashes of white. The song indicated the caller: Meredith.

"Sajel? Saje, are you free tonight? Can you drive? Arie called. We have a situation... "

"What kind of situation? Is Arie in trouble?"

She told her.

The four of them were well into dinner before Tommy and Lisa emerged, fully clothed and holding hands. Lisa smiled shyly, but Tommy was boisterous and proud. Brandon was reminded of a bantam rooster, strutting about the yard. He was reminded of the balloons of pride that had swelled his own heart after his first sex.

"See, told you we'd need dinner," Zach grinned.

"Then it's a good thing we listened to you," Christa said.

"Pull up a chair, guys, you must be hungry," Brandon said.

Brandon was sitting at the head of the table, with Meredith on his right and Zach past her. Across from them were the two empty place settings Christa had suggested. Tommy sat next to her, across from Zach, and Lisa took the final seat opposite Meredith.

"Thank you," Lisa said to Brandon. "It was... Really kind of you to let us do this."

Brandon shrugged and smiled. "Nothing's too good for my friends."

"But I'm not one of them," Lisa said, confused. "Am I?"

"Well," said Brandon, with another shrug. "Christa is, and your sister is too." He smiled. "That's good enough for me."

Lisa toyed with a piece of bread. "Yeah... I guess." She looked up. Her face was similar to Jane's in its plain lines and open honesty. "But I bet you'd've been happier if it was you and her, not me and Tommy."

"Well..." said Brandon, conscious of Meredith sitting beside him. "Yes and no. Maybe a year ago, that would've been true; there's a part of me that still loves Jane, and always will. But my heart belongs to someone else now."

"Oh," said Lisa, evidently not sure how to take that. "Well, thank you, in any case." She rolled her eyes. "I have to thank you on behalf of this barbarian, too, because he's a little too excited to remember his manners, so." She grinned. "Thank you again."

Brandon smiled. "You're welcome." She was Jane's mirror in other ways too.

"I swear..." Lisa shook her head, still smiling, showing her braces. "He's so... Bullheaded sometimes. He's like my sister. She gets fixated on something and just... Doesn't let go."

"Sometimes an inconvenient trait," Meredith offered. "But very useful in a lover."

Lisa turned red. "Well," she said, smiling shyly. "Yes."

Brandon and Meredith exchanged grins.

Conversation tapered off for a moment, as everyone applied themselves to their food. Despite their early dessert, Lisa and Tommy were just as hungry as the rest of them—maybe more so.

"So, you guys," Brandon asked. "How was it?"

Tommy dropped his fork, and his face went white. But Lisa grinned and said, "It was great!"

"Really?" said Christa skeptically.

"Wow, Tommy," said Zach, grinning. "Way to go, man!"

"You can't tell him about that!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Why not?" Lisa asked. "It's my life too. I'll tell people what I want to."

"It's my life too!" Tommy retorted. "What if I don't want people to know about... That stuff?"

"What, going down on her," Zach asked. Thomas Sternbacher nearly swallowed his tongue.

"Tommy," Lisa said. "We wouldn't have anything to talk about if not for Brandon and Christa. I think the least we can do is tell them we had a good time."

"No one's going to make you say anything you don't want to, Tom," Meredith said, using his adult name to make him feel older. "Not even Christa. It's all free speech here."

"Besides—" Zach cackled. "You know you wanna talk about it."

"I, I do?" said Tommy, suspicious.

"I certainly hope so!" Christa exclaimed. "Tommy, you just had sex for the first time in your life. I'd be worried if you didn't want to talk about it!"

"Well..." said Tommy. "... First and second time."

"Oh-ho!!" said Zach.

"See," Brandon said, smiling. "That wasn't so hard."

"Or was it?" Meredith said. "I mean, they probably had some problems if it wasn't so hard."

Tommy turned an alarming shade of red. "Well-lll," said Lisa.

"I guess that's not too surprising," Brandon said, swerving into the gap. "I mean, on your first time, of course you're gonna be nervous. And when your body's nervous, it's got other things to worry about than sending blood rushing to your genitals."

"Besides, she looks like one pleased lady to me, pardner," Zach said, grinning and nodding at Lisa, and Tommy blushed again but managed a weak grin.

"That she is," Lisa agreed.

"So what happened," Meredith asked, "did he go down on you?"

"Yeah, actually, he did," Lisa said. "I kinda had to prompt him into it, but in the end he did it. And the thing is, he made me come!"

"What!" Christa exclaimed. "It took me more than a month to teach Zach how to do that!"

"You've got a really talented brother there," Meredith said to her.

Tommy was still as red as the tomato sauce, but behind it was a glimpse of pride. "Really?"

"Really," Brandon told him. "It's a huge deal to be able to do that. Women take like four times as long to reach orgasm as men do, and their bodies are built to be a lot more finicky."

"I hope you went down on him," Christa said. "I mean, obviously it's not as big a deal for him to come from oral, but you oughta thank him!"

"Either you got lucky," Brandon said to Tom, "or... Well, no 'or' about it, you did get lucky. But clearly you're also pretty skilled, too."

"Of course I went down on him," Lisa said. "I wanted to, even before I came."

"And how was it, Tommy, when she sucked you off," Zach asked.

"Well..." said Tommy, glancing at Lisa. "It was... Okay," he said. "She..."

"Was about as skilled as you'd expect from a virgin?" Meredith offered.

"I wouldn't know, but... I guess so," Tommy said. "It was slower than when I, uh. When I jack off."

"Well, that's to be expected too," Brandon said. "Generally, masturbation is the fastest way to reach orgasm. You know exactly what to do to yourself. Whereas Lisa, who has never done this before, has no idea what to do with penises in general, much less your penis."

"Did you like it, though," Zach asked.

"Yeah!" Tommy said. "Yeah, it was... Really cool! I especially liked it when it got everywhere. It was, like, all over her face and everything."

Brandon peered at Lisa surreptitiously. She didn't look like it had.

"Why did you like that?" Meredith asked, intrigued.

Tommy stopped, frozen for a moment, caught with his mouth open. Then he shrugged and grinned helplessly, an answer that justified itself.

"Lisa," Christa said, leaning forward. "One thing that most guys have in common is that the little ridge on the bottom of their penises is really sensitive, especially up near the base of the head. If you..." Zach, not to be outdone, began tutoring Tommy in the fine art of cunnilingus.

Meredith caught Brandon's eye and shook her head, laughing. Quietly, the two of them slipped out, leaving the sex fiends to their conversation.

It was to the TV room they went, the place they had spent so much of their lives together in. Their first dinner date, during Brandon's Program week; their first time together, only a few days later; endless weekdays spent together, playing video games or doing homework or making love or just sitting, enjoying each other's presence. The sight of that old brown leather couch brought back a whirlwind of memories, and Brandon blinked his eyes tight, unable for a moment to discern between the present and a thousand swirling firefly recollections.

"I've missed this place," Meredith said, her voice tight with emotion.

"I've missed you," he said, barely daring to turn to look at her. "The place is nothing. It's you that makes it special."

Now she had tears in her eyes. "If it were our first date, you could've just gotten into my pants with that line."

He smiled at her, feeling a strange queerness in his stomach. She was beautiful, and he loved her, and he wanted her—but Rick Downing, Rick Downing, Rick Downing. He was like some grotesque thing stapled to her, a third limb or a second head or just a dead body, his arms draped around her neck, slumped down over her back like some deluded idea of a cape. It was impossible to get past him.

She must have seen in his face, because she said, "I know. I feel it too."

"Will we never get past this?" He flung himself away from her, frustrated. He could see them, five, ten, twenty years in the future: loving each other, as they had before, having children, having careers, having life... And then moments of tenderness falling to pieces, shattered by that hanging ghost. Rick Downing. He won't even make it into a real university. He'll go off to the community college and drop out after half a year, and spend the rest of his life at an oil-change place with a plumber's crack and a beer belly, and he'll sink down into oblivious death and take us with him. Had he ruined them? Would it always be like this?

"Yes," she said, her quiet tone disguising her intensity. "Yes, we can, Brandon. Time will pass. It'll fade. There will be minutes and days and years in which we don't think of it at all. If we..." She trailed off, anxious. "We can do it. We can."

"How do you know," he asked suspiciously.

"Because we did," she said. "Don't tell me you spent all of dinner thinking about it, because I know you didn't." She knew him too well. "And I know I didn't either. So, there's, what, half an hour? Not a bad foundation to start on."

"Fine," he said, "but... But how? How do we do it? How do I learn to... How do we get over this?"

"I..." She bit her lip, pensive. "I think we have to learn to trust each other again."

"Trust?" he said, incredulous. "Yeah right. How do I know you aren't going to betray me again?"

"Betray you!"

"You slept with Rick Downing!"

"Yeah, well, how do I know you're not going to mutate on me? I thought I knew you! But then Michael came in and I realized we didn't understand each other at all." She bit her lip, her eyes downcast. "I was so lonely, Brandon. I couldn't bear my guilt alone and I couldn't tell you about it. It drove me insane."

"Oh, is that your excuse?" he sneered. "Temporary insanity? You lost your mind, so you flung yourself at the nearest guy who was available, at the most— The most ridiculous, overbearing, self-absorbed, greasy—"

"Uh," said Zach.

They turned. Zach and Christa stood at the threshold, looking from one to the other of them. "Is this a good time to step in," Zach asked.

"Yes," said Meredith. "No," said Brandon.

Zach looked at Christa. Christa looked at Meredith and Brandon. "We're staying," she said. "That way Brandon has to hold his temper. But we're not letting you hide behind us, Meredith," she said. "You guys have to work this out."

"Where's Tommy and Lisa," Brandon asked curtly.

"They went back," said Zach. "They liked some of our suggestions so much that they decided to try them out."

"Good for them," Brandon said. "Now, why are you interrupting?"

"Because you need a neutral third party," Christa said, matching the iron in his voice, "before you hurt each other even more than you already have."

"Christ, you guys," Zach said, and unexpectedly his voice was full of sympathetic pain. "Don't you see it? It's right there."

"Meredith's right, Brandon," Christa said. "You do need to learn to trust her again. Just like she needs to learn to trust you."

"What did I do," Brandon said.

"Abandoned her," said Christa. "Ignored her. If she came to you with her concerns about Michael and you blew her off, it's no wonder she felt hurt. She sent her brother to jail, remember. Not juvenile hall, not a quick overnight stay in a cell, full-blown jail. State penitentiary. Now he's dead. And you treated her like she was wrong to feel guilty."

"I— I—" said Brandon. "Okay, so I made a mistake, and—"

"Yes," Christa said. "You did. And you, Meredith." She turned to her. "Rick Downing? Girl, where did your sense go? You have more self-respect than that. You have more respect for Brandon than that. And you love him more than that."

"And there's my mistake," Meredith said softly. The tears in her eyes and voice were enough to make Brandon love her again... And yet, he resented how easily she could manipulate him. You can't make me feel sorry for you. It isn't working. You hear that, bitch? It isn't!

Zach was looking at him with a knowing smirk. Brandon scowled.

"All right," said Christa. "So there's the problem."

"No," said Brandon. "That's not the problem."

Christa looked at him, confused. "What?"

"I can deal with her having slept with Rick Downing," Brandon said. "God help me, but I think I can honestly forget that one day. But... All this running-away stuff. Why didn't she come to me in the first place? —I mean, I know she tried it, once, but that's all she did. Once. If she had tried again, I might have listened. I probably wouldn't've understood, not all at once, but at least I would've listened."