Ricochet (15 page)

I try to take in her words before she asks another question.

“And after that, did anyone else touch you?”

I shake my head. “No, I touched myself a lot. And then, I
had sex.”

“With Lo?”

I sink in the seat. “No, not with Lo.” I knew I was going to
talk about the loss of my virginity—as though it solidified the rest of my
nefarious acts for the future. The buried memory has already surfaced these
past couple of days as I mentally tried to prepare for this discussion. “I was
thirteen.”

“Was he older?”

“Not much. He was a fifteen-year-old kid, the son of my
mother’s friend. I was at his house for his father’s surprise birthday party.
It was during the day, and everyone mostly stayed outside by the pool. Lo was
supposed to be there.”

“Why wasn’t he?”

The memory hurts a little because if Lo’s plans had changed,
I know, without a doubt, that I wouldn’t have lost my virginity that day. But I
believe I still would have gone down this road. Even if my first wasn’t
mind-blowing, I still loved the sex. The way it exploded my nerves and rocked
my body to an ultimate high. Once I felt a glimmer of it for the first time, I
was sold.

“He didn’t want to go to the party. He wanted to find booze
and hang out by the lake. But Rose begged me to go. She didn’t want our mother
to be focused on her the whole evening, so I went to keep Rose company. And in
the end, I left her to go hook up with some guy that paid me a little bit of
attention. We went to his room, and what’s done was done.” My stomach hurts as
I admit the rest. “Rose forgave me. She always does, but I can’t really ever
forgive myself, you know? I’m a horrible person, and I convinced myself that it
was better if I wasn’t involved in anyone’s lives. If I just stayed away, then
they wouldn’t be hurt by me and I could do what I wanted.” I nod to myself.
“Yeah, so that’s how it went afterwards. But Rose doesn’t take lightly to being
ignored. She never allowed me to push her away completely.” I rub my eyes
quickly.

“And Lo?” Dr. Banning asks, not missing a beat. “What
happened to him that night?”

“I snuck from my house to his. We lived down the street from
each other, so it wasn’t so hard. And I climbed through his window. I found him
passed out on his bed. So I shut away all of his bottles before his father
found them, and I tucked him under the covers.” I nod again, as though
accepting the memory for what is. A painful reminder of our fucked up
relationship. “The next day, we just acted like nothing happened.”

She stares at me with dark eyes, a sort of worry that I
think therapists are not supposed to possess. It flickers away before she
scares me more, but I realize that she’s beginning to understand just how deep
our tangled, messy, destructive relationship actually goes.

“After you lost your virginity, how did your relationship
with Lo change?”

I squirm a little in my chair before I say, “I mean…we’ve
always been friends.” I’m about to say
nothing
changed
. But I can’t muster the lie. After I started having sex, everything
changed.
 

“So take me through your sexual experiences between the day
you became sexually active and now. How did things progress? Especially with
Lo.”

My mind spins as I think about eighth grade and feeling like
utter trash for losing my virginity so young. I didn’t tell anyone for months,
and even though I was hooked to the feeling—I refused to do it again for a
while. Too scared of the obliterating guilt that haunted me like a shadow. The
second time happened at a graduation party. A public school kid threw it. Lo
and I barely knew them, so it had the right requisites to attend. We both liked
the anonymity. As years passed in prep school, people often grouped us together
because of our friendship and status. We were Fizzle and Hale Co., and the more
they wiped our identities away, the more we clung to each other.
 

The party was like any other, except for bedrooms upstairs.
They were open and available, and so was the fifteen-year-old soccer player I
met. It felt better than the first time, and I devised this theory that it
would just keep getting better and better the more I tried.

I remember leaving the party with Lo braced on my shoulder.
We couldn’t hide the fact that he’d been drinking from Nola, but she kept her
opinions to herself and dropped me off at the Hale house. It was that night,
with Lo sprawled half-asleep in his bed, that I asked him if he was a virgin.

I wanted him to tell me
no
.
To ease my shame.

“I’m waiting,” he mumbled sleepily.

My eyebrows furrowed. “For marriage?” But he fell asleep
before he could answer, but I think I knew it anyway.

He was waiting for me.

I began having sex every few months, nothing serious. Mostly
I spent my time with porn and self-love. The day Lo found out I lost my virginity
wasn’t even a monumental one. We were reading comics together during a rainy
afternoon, and I complained that Havok and Polaris needed to just fuck and get
it over with. Their sexual tension was killing me.

Lo looked up at me, and out of nowhere asked, “Have you had
sex?”

It was like someone vacuumed the air right from my lungs.
“What?” I squeaked.

He pulled his knees up and shrugged, like it was nothing.
Maybe he was just trying to make me comfortable. “When we go to parties, you
disappear. And when we leave, you’re always a little different.”

I didn’t know how he’d react. If he’d call me a slut, kick
me out for being dirty. But I had never lied to him before, and I couldn’t bear
the thought of starting. So I spilled everything in the briefest way possible.
I didn’t want him to think I had been taken advantage of, so I made sure to
emphasize that I’ve been seeking out most of the guys lately. That I liked sex.

His first question was, “Does Rose know?”

I shook my head, told him that I didn’t want to tell anyone
else.

“I can keep a secret,” he said, but his words didn’t ease
the panic in my chest.

He knows
, I kept
thinking over and over.

He sensed my alarm and gave me a reassuring nudge in the
side. His warm amber eyes met mine, a little concerned but more understanding. I
let out a small breath of relief.

“Just…can you let me know if you’re going to do it at the
parties? If someone hurts you—”

“I’m careful.”

His eyes darkened. “Still. We look out for each other.
Okay?”

“Okay.”

So I did. We reveled in our acts and hid our secrets from
other people. To everyone else we were Fizzle and Hale Co. To each other, we
were safety, love, and free from judgment and scorn. At fourteen, Lo finally
lost his virginity.

To me.

One sloppy night that we buried with our hedonism.

We moved on like always, and by sixteen I was having sex at
least once a month. Senior year, we became a fake couple and everything changed
yet again. He kissed me. I kissed back. And I believed all along that we were
pretending. But there were times where I questioned it. Where our “practicing”
and the teasing turned to sinful touching. More than we probably should have.

When I left for college, I couldn’t last more than a week
without some kind of release, and I wasted hours to porn. Having a place away
from my parents became my bane. Everything escalated; my rituals began at dawn
and ended at dusk. An obsession that cut into my sleep, my dreams, my
everything
. It consumed me whole like
some sort of rabid beast.

Lo and I may have enabled each other for years, but I know
for certain I’d be on a street corner or worse if Lo hadn’t been there.
Whenever I felt like I was spiraling, I turned to him. To talk. About anything
really. His companionship was my saving grace.

My mouth dries as I finish spilling my life story. I feel
cut up and drained and really can’t believe I let it all out like some sort of
emotional flood. Dr. Banning stares at me with an expression I can’t gauge, but
she must think that I’m fucked up beyond help. Our co-dependent relationship
began as children, and even though we’ve hurt each other, we’ve also been the
only real support system for so many years. How do you fix that without
damaging it as well?

“Have you changed your mind?” I ask her. “Are you thinking
we shouldn’t be together after all?”

Dr. Banning taps her pen to the notebook. “No. I just think
you both have a lot you need to work out. And hopefully we’ll reach that point.
I want you to uncover the source of this addiction, Lily, and maybe I’ll be
able to help you get there in time.”

She’s telling me there may be an answer, but I’m not going
to have it anytime soon. I can wait. “I just…want to know what I should expect.
Are you going to give me medicine? Am I going to need to go through the twelve-steps
or something?”

Dr. Banning shakes her head. “No medication. Drugs aren’t
going to solve your problem.”

“But…I can’t sleep…” Nights are horrible. All I want is to
orgasm, to feel this release, this high and if I don’t take a sleeping pill,
then how will I rest?

“Right now, there’s an imbalance in your oxytocin levels.
With compulsive orgasms, you’ve offset chemicals in your body. That’s why
you’re going through withdrawals. It’s important that the chemicals readjust to
a normal balance. You’ll be able to cope better and fight sexual compulsions.
Drugs will only mask the problem.”

I try to process her words, and my head begins to float
away. “What about when I’m sad?” With Lo absent, I feel such a strong pressure
on my chest. I’ve always heard about depression, but I never understood how
debilitating it can be. Some days, I just want to go to sleep and never wake
up.

“I can give you a prescription,” she tells me. “But I’d
rather you didn’t take any anti-depressants. Like I said, the chemicals in your
body need to readjust. They’ve been out of flux for probably a long time. Now, will
you be going through the twelve-step program? No.”

I frown. “But Lo...”

“You’re not an alcoholic,” she tells me. “The goal of the
twelve-step program is to completely eliminate the addiction from the addict’s
life. For sex addicts, that is unfeasible. Sex is a part of nature. Alcohol is
not. Your sister knew this, which was why she didn’t want you to go to an
in-treatment facility that promoted the twelve-step program for sex addiction.
Permanent celibacy is not going to be the answer. Intimacy with your partner is
what we’re going to strive for.”

Intimacy with your
partner.
“So Lo…”

She nods as though she can read my thoughts. “When he
returns from rehab, he’ll be an important part in your recovery. I’d love for
him to accompany you to some of the meetings.”

I blush. “I’m not sure he’ll want to do that…”

“From what Rose has told me, it sounds like he’d be willing
to do just about anything for you.” She glances at her clock. “That’s it for
today. Did I scare you off?”

I shake my head. “No…actually, for the first time, I feel
like I’m headed somewhere.”

And I know that place is somewhere good.

{8}

After more days filled with class, therapy and
loneliness, winter break arrives. And every year with winter break comes
Daisy’s birthday. Our mother asked her what kind of Sweet Sixteen party she
wanted, and she chose to take the yacht around Acapulco and Puerto Vallarta,
Mexico. Samantha Calloway put her foot down almost immediately at the idea. Not
because it’s too lavish but because she has a special brunch with her tennis
ladies on Wednesday that she won’t miss. Daisy was asking for a week-long birthday,
not just one night.

Our father has a business meeting, so he wouldn’t be able to
make the trip either. But I stepped in and told my mother that I would
chaperone. Since Lo’s call, I’ve been feeling better, and I kind of want to
test myself—to see if I can hold myself back from doing something with a
server. I know I can, and I’m ready to experience that personal victory. Dr.
Banning even thought it’d be a good idea.

My mother was more than happy with these terms, but Rose
wasn’t. She has an Academic Bowl competition all weekend. So does Connor. Her
solution? The brunet, know-it-all track star.

Ryke.

He even went as far to
personally
ask Daisy if he could join her party because I would need some help. I was
there when she told him that if he could handle a boat full of estrogen, she
wouldn’t be one to stop him.

He choked on a dry laugh and said, “I think I’ll be okay.”

She flashed an equally tight smile. “Just warning you now.”

Daisy invited twenty of her closest girl friends from prep
school who look like they’re used to getting what they want. He should be
scared.

After a flight to the port, I wait by the dock while
stewards collect our luggage to bring on the yacht. The sixteen-year-old girls
pool out of two limos, adjusting their Chanel sunglasses and reapplying a sheen
of lip gloss to combat the daylight. I feel a little underdressed in my jean
shorts and halter top. These girls look like they took a pit stop in L.A. and
went shopping: long billowing skirts and tight bandeau tops with designer bags
on the hook of their arms.

They bring me back to my prep school days. I spent most of
my time avoiding these girls, too scared about what I would be labeled if my
secret was exposed. Lo was my only friend, and as a result I’m a bit socially
inept when it comes to girls. This trip is going to be
awesome
. I just need to remind myself that I’m four years older.
And even if they make me feel like a small shellfish…I am a shining sea star.
Uh…I seriously need to come up with better confidence boosters.

 
Daisy sticks out
among her friends at five foot eleven. When she spots me, she waves and her
eyes flicker over to the handsome twenty-two-year-old beside me. Ryke wears
black wayfarers and leans an arm on the dock’s post with such confident
nonchalance that the rest of the girls begin to look over, eyeing the cut
muscles of his bicep and the ridges seen through his green tank. It’s like a
herd of lionesses stalking their prey.

I smack his stomach, my knuckles hitting the hardness of his
abs.

His eyebrow quirks like I’ve gone mental. “What the fuck?”

I shake my hand off. “Stop doing that.”

“I’m just standing here.”

This is going to be a long trip. “Don’t stand like
that.
”

“Like what? Seriously, how the fuck am I supposed to stand?”
He throws his hands up in the air.

“I don’t know,” I exclaim, glancing back at the girls.
“Don’t lean on things. It looks sexual.”

“I’m not even going to ask how that’s possible. Besides,
everything looks sexual to you,” he reminds me.

“They may look my age, but they’re all sixteen.”

He glances back at the girls who are still sizing him up
from afar. “No shit. And let me guess, you think I’m going to hook up with one
of them. I’m not you, Lily.”

Okay, that stings.

“Most guys would go for it,” I defend myself. “They’re cute
girls and men usually think with their downstairs brain. I’m just telling your
cock in case it has other plans.”

“Leave my cock alone,” he snaps. “And while you’re at it,
leave your sexist attitude on the shore.”

Maybe I did generalize the entire male population as being
horny, but I’m a little edged. The last time I was on a boat, I almost ruined
my friendship with Lo and then I ended up forming a real relationship instead.

I think boats are my enemy. They make me kind of nuts.

I open my mouth about to tell him this, but Ryke cuts me
off, “Get a grip, Calloway.”

He’s right. I take a deep breath and prepare for the worst.
I can do this. It’s only a week.

I internally laugh. Yeah. Right.

* * *

While the girls are given a brief tour of the
yacht by the chief steward, Ryke and I find the lounge area with a shady
overhang. I take a seat on the couch while a server brings us fresh orange
juice. As part of the itinerary, my mother told the servers not to carry any
alcohol onboard. Last thing she’d want is for one of the girls to fall over the
rails and drown in a drunken haze.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Lo?” I finally ask. “You’ve
been in contact with him. He said you’ve actually seen him.” The hidden truth
doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Ryke is stable. Lo needs him. I can
understand that.

Ryke hikes his feet on the coffee table while I tuck mine
under my legs on the outdoor couch, holding a pillow on my lap. “I didn’t want
to tell you because you would have started badgering me with questions the same
way Lo does about you. The whole point of being separated is so you can focus
on yourselves. If you’re constantly worrying about each other, then that’s not
going to happen.”

All this time, I thought Ryke was one-hundred percent right.
But Dr. Banning said that the solution for me isn’t celibacy but rather a focus
on intimacy. And being intimate with my partner actually requires
my partner.
By the prolonged distance, I
can tell she fears I’ll revert to porn, masturbation, or worse, other men, to
fill the empty space. I won’t. She said I have willpower, and I’m trying to
exert it to the fullest degree while he’s gone. And if he doesn’t want to come
back to me, well…I’m also trying not to think about that.

I stir a cherry in my juice. “You don’t trust me, do you?
That’s why you’re here.”

Ryke stretches his arms on the back of the couch, his
muscles sharpening more than before. He looks like he owns the damn yacht. How
do I get that type of confidence? I wish it could rub off on me. On second thought…maybe
not. That would mean I’d have to get physically closer to him.

“Honestly, I’m worried about you. I’m hoping that if you
have some sort of panic attack that I’ll be here.”

“Because you promised Lo that you’d look after me while he’s
gone,” I say with a nod. “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from having a better
winter break. What would you be doing anyway?”

“I got an invite to go snowboarding in Aspen with some
friends, but I already turned it down before Rose called me.”

I frown. “Why?”

“I was planning on rock climbing, and my friends don’t
climb, so…” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

I’m still stuck on the ‘rock climbing’ bit. “You rock
climb?”

“Since I was six. I loved everything about it, and I spent
hours at indoor climbing gyms. I remember I’d beg my mom to let me go
before
school even though I spent all
day there the minute the bell rang to release class. My mother hates it, so she
put me in track to see if I’d stop, but I didn’t. I just found two things that
I love instead of one. She was
ecstatic
when I told her I changed my plans this week.”

“Do you climb actual mountains?” I squint, trying to picture
him harnessed and dangling from a slab of rock.

“Yes, Lily, I climb
mountains
.”
He shakes his head like that’s such an inane question.

“What? You could have spent your whole days in the gym.”

“I would have been bored,” he says. “I climbed so much that
I kept pushing myself for something new and challenging. That’s what my trip
was supposed to be about. I was going to free solo climb Half Dome at Yosemite.
I’ve free soloed El Capitan in the same National Park a couple times before,
but never Half Dome.”

I have no idea what those mountains are or what they look
like, but if he’s been climbing since he was
six
and for so many hours, he must be pretty good.

“My mother has been freaking out about it for the past
month, but the weather turned out to be bad in California anyway. I would have
had to reschedule, even if I didn’t come here.”

If I had a son, I would be freaking out too. “What’s free
solo climbing?” I mean, obviously,
solo
entails
being alone, which sounds dangerous enough. If I had the guts to shimmy up a
mountain, I’d want someone there to catch me if I fell.

“No ropes,” he tells me. “Just me and the mountain and some
chalk.”

My mouth slowly hangs. “Wha…that means…if you…no.” I shake
my head at the image of Ryke losing his grip and splatting on the hard ground.
“Why would you want to do that?” I pause in thought. “Is it the adrenaline
rush?”

He shakes his head. “No, everyone asks me that, but I don’t
get that feeling like I do when I run. If you have an adrenaline rush when
you’re climbing, it probably means you’re falling off the mountain. When you
feel fear, your chest constricts, and you’ll probably slip and die.”

I gape. “Are you serious? You don’t get scared? Not even a
little bit?” How is that possible?

“Nope,” he tells me. “You have to be calm, and I love raising
the stakes and trying to overcome them. Like I said, it’s a challenge.”

I stare at him like he’s an alien species, but I guess
plenty of people free solo climb or maybe not. “Do many people die climbing
without ropes?”

“Maybe a little less than half of people who free solo.” He
shrugs again.

“You’re crazy.”

He smiles. “So my mother tells me.”

The pack of girls suddenly filters onto the deck in varying
shades and styles of swimsuits. Most are string bikinis, but I see a few cut-out
one-pieces that expose hips and lower backs. Half of the girls run to the
padded chairs on the sun deck, trying to fight for ones with the best light. A
few meander over to our lounge area and plop on seats around Ryke and me.

I’ve met most of the girls before since the majority have
grown up with Daisy since preschool, but I can’t recall half their names. The
strawberry blonde with fair skin and a light layer of freckles is Daisy’s best
friend: Cleo. Then there’s Harper, the Native American girl wearing a black-studded
bikini. I can’t place the third girl that sits with us. She’s already so tan
that anymore sun may cause her instant skin cancer. She also wears bright pink
lip gloss that matches her neon-blue string bikini, ready to be inserted into a
Katy Perry video.

Daisy slides closer to me on the couch. I notice that she
wears a string bikini with tons of layered straps, the dark green color
matching her eyes. “We need to get some snacks. I’m starving.”

At the command, a female server in a white shirt and black
pants peels away from the sliding glass door. She hands Daisy a menu with tons
of items and a line at the bottom says:
if
it’s not on the menu, ask us and we may be able to make it.

“I want chocolate,” Cleo says to the server. “How
about…chocolate covered strawberries?”

The server nods. “Anything else?”

“I can’t have chocolate…so…” Daisy hums to herself as she
slides her finger down the menu. Her features progressively darken, as though
frustrated with what she can and cannot eat.

I practically feel Ryke seething beside me. But he needs to
shut his trap. She doesn’t want chocolate, and he shouldn’t pressure her to eat
it like he did at the Fizzle event.

I do have some sisterly sway, and I know there are some
foods that will be good for her to eat. I lean closer and point to a tuna
sandwich. “That’s healthy.”

“Mom said no mayo,” she says softly.

“Well, Mom isn’t here.” Jesus, my mother has seriously
crossed a line somewhere. It’s Daisy’s birthday. Does she expect her not to eat
cake too? That’s sacrilege.

Daisy stares off for a long second, thinking about the
consequences of cheating, no doubt. She’s already a size 2 at 5’11’’ which is
fucking madness, but until the high fashion industry stops seeking these types
of girls, I don’t see my mother changing.

“Get the fucking sandwich,” Ryke tells her. “You’ll burn it
off swimming.”

“Don’t do tuna,” Cleo suddenly says. “Your breath will reek.”

“Yeah, I hate the smell,” Harper agrees.

I already want to strangle them.

Daisy tenses at all the voices. She hands the menu back to
the server. “I’ll have the tuna, thanks. My friends will have to deal with the
smell.” She shoots Cleo a look. “It’s my birthday, after all.”

Cleo shrugs. “Just trying to warn you. What if we meet some
hot local boy? You’re going to scare him off with bad breath.” God, they’re
already planning on picking up guys. This just turned from slightly fun to
terrifying. I hope I’ll be equipped to handle them.
Please, let me be equipped.
 

“Even better,” Daisy says. “The guy will run over to you.
See, I did you a favor.”

Cleo purses her lips and then her eyes slowly trail over to
me. “So Lily…”

I brace myself.

“…How did you get so skinny? What are you, a size zero?”

Great, she asks me a question I’m not really sure how to
answer. The truth—I spend more time consumed by sex than I do taking care of
myself. In my defense, I am short. If Daisy became a size 0, she’d fade away
and need to be hospitalized.