The Girl He Loves Read online

  I knew my first time would be with Brian, I just didn’t know exactly when it would happen, when I would be ready. He was patient with me, despite the fact that he knew how great sex could be. He’d already had it with two ex-girlfriends, girls who were no longer part of his life, he assured me.

  I was a little scared of sex. It wasn’t only all the STD and pregnancy fears I’d learned about in health class, but it was the actual act of it. I’d heard that it would hurt the first time. Every time, we got anywhere close to having sex, I’d tense up. Thankfully, Brian was always very understanding.

  We did almost everything else. At first, we’d kiss and explore and dry hump. We could easily bring each other to climax this way. Eventually, we both wanted more. We moved on to mutual masturbation and oral sex. When he first explored me with his tongue, I was forever lost to him. It felt so amazing, and the orgasm he gave me the first time was better than any other one I’d had before. I quickly learned to perfect my blow job skills, even going as far as reading an article in Cosmopolitan. I wanted to be the perfect girlfriend.

  We were together for six months, and we still hadn’t had intercourse. I didn’t feel rushed or pressured. I still wasn’t ready.

  Until…

  We had gone camping with friends on Memorial Day weekend, a little secluded spot at one of the state parks. I don’t even remember the name of it. I do remember the red tent we shared, the ripped faded jeans he wore, the red sweats I ripped up running in the woods. I remember the taste of beer on his lips, the feel of his unshaven beard on my skin.

  I’ve never been much of a drinker, but I’d had my share of colorful coolers that night. I was feeling good, loose… flirty. Brian’s buddy, Danny, was sweet on me, and I knew it. He was cute, not as attractive as Brian of course, but cute enough; a blonde fringe fell over his blue eyes, and he wore a Superman t-shirt. There was something nerdy about him, and I could relate to him more than to any of Brian’s other friends. We often chatted and laughed.

  I sat next to him at the campfire, and leaned lazily against him as Brian strummed the guitar, entertaining the small crowd with his beautiful songs. I’m not sure why exactly, but Danny thought I’d look cute with braids, so he took the liberty of braiding my hair. I looked like a dark haired Pippi Longstocking. We laughed. We were having a grand old time.

  Until Brian ruined it.

  He tore me away from Danny, and told me I’d had enough to drink, that I should get to bed. He dragged me to our tent, holding me by the arm. He didn’t exactly force me in there, but almost. I was livid. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  “You’re drunk, Mischa. You don’t drink much, and you should be careful.”

  “Who are you? My dad?”

  “Well, since you don’t have one to look after you… yeah, I kind of am.”

  That was a low blow. He knew how I felt about not having a father. I was broken up about it. And to this day, I’m convinced it’s part of the reason I’m so messed up. All my therapists have been in full agreement.

  I pushed him with all my might, and he tumbled on our air mattress. Brian is a good head taller than me and about fifty pounds heavier, so that was quite the feat. “Stop bossing me around,” I snapped and dashed out of the tent.

  He ran after me of course. As soon as I reached Danny who was standing by the fire, I pulled him down to me and planted my mouth on his. For a split second, he froze, but next thing you know, our tongues were a tangled mess.

  Brian pulled me off him. “Mischa, you’re drunk.”

  I realized that he was right. I was drunk. I let him drag me to our tent again. As soon as I got inside, I pulled him to me and kissed him. He pushed me away. “You wanna fuck me, Brian?” I purred. “You can have me now… I’m ready.” I tried to kiss him again but he pushed me away a second time.

  “No, you’re drunk.”

  I felt hurt and rejected. Ugly even. I slapped him and fell down on the mattress. He stayed with me all night, making sure I was okay, that I didn’t choke on my own vomit. Funny enough, I didn’t vomit at all — I’ve always had a strong stomach.

  The next morning, he was still by my side. I felt groggy and had a headache. He smiled at me. “Feeling better, sweetie?”

  I smiled. Despite the fact that I had acted like a total bitch and slut, he still loved me. “I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of my mouth. “I acted like a total spaz.”

  He laughed. “You did.” He reached for a bottle of orange Gatorade. “Here, have some of this. It’ll make you feel better.”

  I gladly accepted the bottle and took a swig. I also escaped our tent to go have a pee in the woods. It was a quiet damp morning — it had rained during the night. Everyone was still sleeping.

  When I ventured back in the tent, Brian pulled me down to him and kissed me. He was so warm and tasted so sweet — I couldn’t get enough of him. We kissed for hours it seemed, although I’m sure it was only minutes. I snuggled close to him under the thick sleeping bags, as close as can be. He pulled off my sweats, and I peeled off his jeans. We explored each other’s bodies, tasting each other, trailing our tongues along the curves of our torsos, biting, playing. With every touch, every lick, I wanted more. I wanted him to touch me like he had so many times before. But he was slow that morning, he made me wait for it, beg for it. Finally when his long fingers slid between my folds and entered me, I pressed myself against him and whispered. “I’m ready now. I want you inside me.”

  His beautiful green eyes darkened. “You sure?”

  I reached for his erection, and held it tightly in my hand. “Yes.”

  “I’ll go slow, I promise,” he assured me. “I won’t hurt you.”

  As promised, he sank into me very slowly. He felt so good, yet there was pain. Just a bit of pain. The pleasure made it bearable. I loved the feel of our bodies finally connected in this way. I never wanted to let go. His mouth pressed against my neck as he gradually pressed harder into me, repeatedly, until he came inside me for the first time. I’d been on the pill for two months by then so there was nothing to worry about.

  When he was done, he kissed me softly and gently pulled out. He slid down the length of my body, and wrapped my legs around his head. I arched my back, anticipating the pleasure he would give me. And he didn’t disappoint. Within a minute, I reached my own climax.

  I would never look at a red tent the same way again.

  7

  As I head outside, I’m fully aware that I’m not acting sanely. I wonder what Dr. Russell would have to say about this. I wonder if I should tell her about it. Of course I should. The more transparent you are with your therapist, the more effective therapy can be. What I should really be doing is dropping everything and calling Eva for an emergency session. I should spill all my secrets and let her help me overcome this. Dr. Russell and I go way back. I’ve been seeing her since we moved to Chicago.

  One of my first full-on meltdowns as a teenager was at my older sister Sacha’s Sweet Sixteen birthday party. It was the stuff of legends, and I’m sure I will never live it down. To this day, they still talk about it.

  We’d all been working very hard at the preparations. When I say ‘we’, I mean Mom and I. My sisters were too busy traipsing around with boys, shopping and going out with friends. In other words, they were busy being normal teenage girls. I, on the other hand, at thirteen, had no social life to speak of.

  Mom and I had gone for a butterfly theme because what sixteen year old girl doesn’t like butterflies. The color theme was lilac and yellow. Streamers, balloons, napkins… everything was in keeping with my chosen colors. I’d even worn a matching outfit; my jeans with the purple flowers and a yellow top. Mom and I argued about this — she thought the party would be more festive with all the colors of the rainbow. But I held my ground and won that fight.

  All in all, I blew thirty-six balloons on the morning of the party, and felt extremely lightheaded by the time I was done. I limited myself to a five minute break — I just
had so much to do. I also had to wrap all the gifts from Mom and Anika and me, and set the table. I fished out Mom’s vintage embroidered tablecloth, the one with the pretty lace and pink, lilac and yellow flowers. Mom was in charge of the cake and she opted to make two dozen white vanilla cupcakes, decorated with gold sparkles and colorful paper butterflies, and displayed on her late mother’s pretty three-tiered antique serving platter.

  There were initially nine girls invited, but one could not make it because she was recovering from rhinoplasty. I didn’t understand what the big deal was, why she couldn’t just show up with a bandage on her nose. Everyone knew she had gotten a nose job.

  Everything was ready and perfect when the first guest arrived: Karen Morgan, my least favorite of Sacha’s friends. She squealed as she busted through the door. “Happy Birthday, bestie.” She hugged Sacha so tightly, I’m sure she stole her breath away. A pang of envy hit me — unlike Sacha, I didn’t have many close girlfriends, just one I saw at school.

  Suzie Powell quickly followed, and the rest of the gang trailed in shortly after. I nipped at their heels, righting everything they touched. I busied myself arranging Sacha’s gifts on the den desk. I served punch and offered snacks. There were too many of them, and they were all so loud. They glared and rolled their eyes, barely tolerating me.

  They were giggling and talking about boys. Matthew Thompson seemed most newsworthy. I scowled, wondering why they didn’t have anything better to discuss. I wondered if I’d turn into one of these boy-crazy imbeciles when I turned sixteen. I certainly hoped not.

  They were playing Truth or Dare, and reluctantly let me participate when my sister, Anika, stood up for me. “C’mon, girls. Mischa did everything for the party. She deserves to play.”

  Sacha huffed and let me sit next to her in the circle. It was typical lame teenage stuff. Truth: Who’s the first boy you ever kissed? When I told them I’d never kissed a boy, they laughed. Who was your first crush? I told them about Connor. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? I beat up a girl when I was six because she messed up my Legos house. They were quite impressed by that one.

  Sacha was dared to eat an olive because everyone knew she hated them. Suzie was dared to go hug my mom, for no reason at all. All the girls giggled, and my mom smiled awkwardly, confused. And finally, they dared me to eat my own booger. Well, turns out I had a juicy one, and why the hell not?

  I did it. And I didn’t receive the congratulatory reaction I expected.

  Suzie winced. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Your sister is so freaking weird,” Karen chimed in.

  “Wait til I tell my brother about this,” another girl said, and my breath hitched because her little brother, Rodney, was a known bully, and he also happened to go to my school.

  “Don’t,” I begged.

  “Why not?” she asked. “You eat boogers, and people should know. What if you try to kiss a boy.”

  I glared at her. “I told you… I’ve never kissed a boy.”

  Karen laughed. “That’s because you’re disgusting and kinda ugly.”

  My jaw dropped to the floor.

  “Yeah, we all knew you were weird, but we had no idea how weird,” Suzie chimed in.

  I seethed, speechless. I wanted to come up with a witty retort but my brain was mush. I was too hurt to think straight.

  “Hey, c’mon, guys,” Anika chimed in. Sacha didn’t utter a single word to defend me — what a bitch.

  I stormed out of Sacha’s room in tears, and retreated to my room, and breathed. I performed my calming ritual, which involved long breaths, in and out, at specific intervals. Cocking of the head in opposite directions, repeated five times. Flicking of my fingers, ten times. And finally, closing my eyes and meditating for about five minutes. When I was done, I was no longer furious, but I was still so upset. I seethed until pizza.

  I had requested pineapple on half of one of the pizzas because I love it. The lot of us were opening the pizza boxes, inhaling that delicious smell. Of course, that bitch, Karen, fell upon mine. “Yuck… who likes pineapple on pizza?” she snickered.

  “Me,” I said. “You have a problem with that?”

  “No… I like pineapple… just not on pizza.” She picked one of the pineapple pieces and stuck it in her mouth.

  I watched her, not believing my eyes as she did it again. Sacha laughed and joined in, and soon enough, all her friends joined in and ate all my pineapple.

  “You girls are such jerks,” I scoffed.

  “Watch your language, young lady,” my mother warned. “Try to behave. It’s your sister’s birthday.”

  I inhaled a long breath, and decided to let it slide.

  I was good while we all enjoyed our pizza and soft drinks, while they jabbered on about their stupid shenanigans. I had a brief, very satisfying fantasy about throwing my glass of Coke in Karen’s face. In an attempt to keep my cool, I stared at the table’s centerpiece; a pretty arrangement of white daisies I had made earlier.

  My nerves already piqued, what came next did not help matters. A loud popping sound startled me as I was helping my mom clean the kitchen. It was followed by laughter, and then another pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

  I’d worked so hard on not only blowing up those balloons, but carefully placing them just so, at certain spots of the house. They were tied with ribbons to stair posts and door handles in groups of three; two lilacs and one yellow balloon, accented with white daisies.

  I ran into the living room, struggling to steal balloons from their hands and save them. I shoved and wailed. “Stop it, guys. I worked really hard on those.” Even Sacha was in on it. Pop. Pop. Pop.

  I tried to get my mother to restore the order but she complained that she was too exhausted to get involved and that it was Sacha’s birthday, and if she wanted to pop her balloons, it was her right.

  I ran to my room again, and performed my ritual once more. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay in the comfort and security of my pink room because before long, it was birthday cake time. My spirits lifted because I’ve always loved cake. I was pretty excited to see Sacha’s reaction when she saw the beautiful tiered display of white cupcakes and butterflies.

  Sacha’s smile was priceless when I presented her with the cupcakes, and in that brief moment, I forgave her for everything. We all sang the birthday song, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds while she made her wish.

  “I bet she wishes to hook up with Matt,” Suzie chimed in.

  At that, everyone laughed and Sacha blew out her candles. She got most of them, but two were left with a flame.

  “Does that mean she doesn’t get her wish?” Suzie asked.

  Anika smiled. “No, it just means she has two boyfriends.”

  “Oh, interesting… and who could those be?” Karen asked, her voice shrill.

  “These look so good,” Sacha said. And just as she was about to reach for one, I stopped her.

  “Wait up.” In all my haste, I’d forgotten to snap a photo of the beautiful cupcake display Mom and I had created. “I just want to take a pic. Going to fetch my camera.”

  When I came back shortly after, my heart sank. I was completely devastated — the girls had all picked the pretty paper butterflies out. “What?!” I snapped.

  “What? No one’s eaten one yet,” Karen said, not quite getting it.

  “I told you guys I wanted to take a picture,” I scoffed.

  “Well, take one,” Sacha snapped.

  I blew out a breath in an attempt to calm myself. “I can’t. It’s ruined now!”

  Sacha reached for a cupcake. “Oh, you’re such a baby, Mischa.”

  That’s when I lost it. “A baby?! I’ve had enough of you, you brainless twats,” I snapped, and approached Sacha slowly, and if looks could kill, she would have been a goner. I didn’t think things through at all. I acted purely on impulse. To this day, I’m not quite sure what possessed me. I grabbed a cupcake and with so much rage in my heart, I smeared it all over her face. The sensat
ion of performing this act brought unexpected and unbelievable pleasure and relief.

  When I pulled from her, she just sat there, frozen, mouth agape, her face covered with white icing and gold smears. Shocked faces all around, the room was deadly quiet.

  And I didn’t stop there… it felt too damn good to stop. I grabbed another, and smudged it all over Karen’s face. Everyone was too shocked to move, even when I picked up a third one and splattered it all over Suzie’s pretty long blonde hair when she turned away from me.

  They all started to run as I threw cupcakes at them. I got one girl in the head and another one on the ass. I chased them all and threw cupcakes. When I reached for the last one, I was still crazed, feverish, still filled with an intense desire for revenge. I looked up and saw Anika and Mom sitting there, at the table. Mom was crying. That knocked some sense into me. Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach. I plopped down at the table, next to her.

  A few unfortunate happenings followed the ‘birthday incident’ as it came to be referred to. First, I got grounded for a month. Secondly, I was made to see a therapist again. And last but not least, I had to write apology letters to Sacha and every single girl at the party. Of course the letters made the rounds at Sacha’s school, and everyone heard about her batshit crazy little sister, Mischa.

  8

  I know I should go talk to Dr. Russell, but I also know I will do no such thing. Compulsion leads me to put one foot in front of the other to walk to the nearest bus stop, and hop on a bus. I exit at the spot where another city bus will lead me to Wright College Humbolt Park.

  I’ve already justified the outing to myself. The weather is lovely, and I’m just going for a nice walk in Humbolt Park. Never mind that I’ve never shown any such inclination before.

  I’ve worn a low-key ensemble — black leggings, a t-shirt, a dark sweater, and Guess shades. My hair is in a barely-there ponytail, and I’m wearing black ballet flats. If one didn’t know any better, they might think I was heading to go rob a bank.