The Chocolate Money (20 page)

“I know how Meredith works; even if she didn’t see me talking to you, one of her girls would have reported us to her. And that would have made things hell for you at Bright.”

“Well, thanks, but I can take care of myself.” I’m disappointed that the whole point of this meeting is once again to talk about Meredith.

“Actually,” Cape says, “I wanted to pay you back for the other night.”

“How?” He wants to give me a blowjob?

“Um, it was just obvious that you got nothing out of it . . . and I thought I could try . . .”

Try what? I am curious now but don’t want to push it. God forbid he comes up with some kind of quid pro quo proposition.

“Don’t worry about it.” I sit down on his bed and notice a watch with a black croc strap sitting on his bedside table. The straps are curled upward, circling an imaginary wrist.

“Cape? Can I try on your watch?”

“Why?” he asks, confused.

I take it in my hand, flip it over to look at the back. “It belonged to your father, didn’t it?”

“How do you know?”

I put it on, even though he has not given me permission.

“When I was eleven, he showed it to me.”

“Really? Where?”

In the middle of the night in my mother’s room
is not an acceptable answer, so I just say, “At a cocktail party of my mother’s. I wanted to keep it, but he wouldn’t let me.”

“Why did you want to keep it?”

Again, I can give only a half answer to this.

“I thought it was cool. He even let me try it on.”

“What about your dad? Didn’t he have watches you could wear?”

“I don’t have a dad.”

“Huh?”

“My mother got pregnant and never told anyone who the father was.”

“Why?”

“I really don’t know.”

I can see him looking at me, not getting it. But he’s not going to push it. Like Jake said, he is a WASP. He avoids the hard questions.

He leans into me. I think he is going to kiss me, but he’s just looking at my face.

“What happened to your forehead?”

“What you do you mean?” I touch it quickly, afraid I have a pimple or a scab there. Nothing.

“Your scar. It looks like it was something serious.”

When I hear
scar,
I think about my ankles. But I realize he means the scar from the Hangover-Brunch Cruise Party. When I got all the stitches and left the pink elephant in Mack’s pocket. No one has ever mentioned it before, not even Jake. Babs didn’t even make me wear cover-up in the Christmas Card to conceal it.

“Umm.” I don’t want it to sound like all of Mack’s life was consumed by Babs’s parties. But I go ahead and provide him with the details anyway.

“My mother had a party once and I fell down a marble staircase. Your dad picked me up from the ground and I bled all over his shirt.”

“Why didn’t he ever tell me about you? Or introduce us? Did he tell you about me?”

“Of course he did,” I say. Even though this isn’t true, really. For years I thought he was called Hailer, not Cape. I felt such ease telling on Meredith but realize it is not going to be as easy to talk about Babs and Mack.

“Have you met my mom?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. The time I used the bathroom at Tea House. “Have you told her I go here?”

“Yes. She said she knew who you were.”

“That was it?”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t really like to talk about Grass Woods or Chicago that much. She said once that people stopped inviting her places because she was a widow. I suppose women were afraid she would poach their husbands. Which of course she would never do. She grew up in New York anyway, so it made sense for her to go back.”

I take off Mack’s watch and give it back to Cape. I know if I were his girlfriend and I asked, he would let me wear it for real.

“So,” I say, noticing it is getting late, “Why am I here?”

“I have an idea, but you have to help me.”

I know what he is getting at, but I am not going to make it easy for him. Part of me thinks he is drawn to me because of my proximity to Meredith. That whatever we do can be traced back to her. But at least I am included in their union, a point that makes a triangle.

“Okay,” I say. I am pretty sure what he has in mind. I dread it and am eager at the same time. I know most of this has to do with his getting back at Meredith, but for now, I don’t really care.

“Lie down on my bed.” I do. He leans over me and unzips my pants. He pulls them off, along with my underwear.

He moves down and puts his mouth on my me
.
This is the first time anyone has ever admired my centerfold. The contact feels good, but I’m embarrassed. What do I taste like? Did I wipe thoroughly after my last shit? Are there small bits of lingering toilet paper that will come off on his tongue? It is completely impossible for me to relax, let myself go. Especially since Cape seems to be licking at the lips of my vagina. Will any of my pubic hair get caught in his teeth?

I’m worried, but I think that maybe, with a little practice, Cape will turn out to be a genius in bed, like his dad. If so, I will surely forget myself a few minutes from now and just enjoy an intense ride to a smash. Being aroused is like being drunk: you just surrender and anything goes. But Cape does not have that skill set yet, so I hold back. I don’t want to shock him. He lifts his head, starts talking.

“Does that feel good? I have never done this before.”

His admitting this just makes things worse.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t get any better. Cape can’t find my clitoris and is thrusting his tongue inside my vagina, licking his lips afterward. I now know why people (except Babs) call it eating someone out.

I grab his shoulders and pull him up toward my face. Tell him to stop.

“What? Did I do it wrong?”

“No, no, it was just too intense for me. You did a great job.”

I see him suppressing a smile. He leans in and kisses me on the mouth. I taste myself on him, and I am grossed out by the idea that the pungent juices all over his lips and inside his mouth belong to me. I have never smelled myself before. Just had clean and precise smashes in the bathroom, or Jake putting his penis in my me. He never asks for blowjobs. I force myself to pretend Cape just drank some exotic, musty cocktail I will probably never taste.

“But you didn’t . . .”

Smash?
I want to say, almost touched by the innocence of this boy who cannot say
come
or
orgasm.

“Nor did you,” I reply. I see him thinking up some alternative activity. I know he’s a virgin, and I don’t want him to give this away to me as some kind of payback.

“I have another idea,” I say after a few awkward moments. I remember the night Babs told me about the K-Y Jelly and what she and Mack were about to do when she saw the pearls for Mags.

“Okay,” I say. “You need to take off your pants and underwear. I am going to flip over on all fours.” I know this will hurt, but it will be another thing Cape can add to his sexual repertoire, and I won’t have to worry about his technique. Fucking someone in the ass is pretty straightforward, as far as I can tell. Until Babs told me about that time with Mack, I never thought of it as a heterosexual option. But from what I gather, it is an extra on the sexual menu that not a lot of people order, like sambuca after dinner.

Cape takes his time with his pants. I can tell he both knows and doesn’t know what is going to happen. When he is finally in position, I can feel his penis on my back. It is surprisingly hard, given the fact that he must be uncertain as to what my next move is. He must still be excited from admiring my centerfold, despite the fact that the whole thing was a disaster for me.

“Okay, Cape, glide your penis into my ass.”

Cape would never say
ass,
especially in front of a girl. Meredith would never say
ass
to a boy either. But I know Cape will obey me and we will have our own form of intimacy. Unlike with Jake, this will be a shared moment that will mean something.

“Are you sure?” he asks, but his ragged breath tells me he’s up for it.

“Yes, Hailer,” I say, and if my anal region could wet itself, this would do the trick. This is what I want more than anything. To get the boy I have known as Hailer since I was ten to hurt me.

“Hailer? How did . . .” he asks, surprised.

“Shh. Just do it.”

He repositions his penis and thrusts it in my ass. It is not a good feeling. It is too tight down there and I feel like he is ripping me open. Maybe that explains our parents’ need for K-Y. Cape seems to have forgotten his trepidation and is pumping back and forth avidly, gripping my hips so he can go deeper. I am worried I might bleed. I want to yell
Stop!,
but this is what I proposed. I must follow through. My mind drifts to Meredith. If I were here on the bed with her instead of Cape, there wouldn’t be this searing pain. She would be all soft skin and puffy lips. I wonder what her lipstick would taste like. Our interaction would be languid and slow, sucking at each other’s earlobes and bellybuttons. We would not be a couple, just two girls trying something out new. Just for the hell of it.

But instead, I am here with Hailer/Cape and his painful penis. I wait anxiously for him to come, and for it to be over. His pace quickens, and I know he’s close.

He pulls out, puts his penis on my back, keeps thrusting. Like me, he is probably bewildered by what happens to semen when you come in someone’s ass. I’m sure he doesn’t think he’ll get me pregnant, but maybe he worries I’ll get an infection or at least smell bad.

He arches his back, and just before it happens, he yells, “Jesus, Meredith!” His come sprays all over the back of my T-shirt, which I have not taken off. I can’t really fault him because I have been thinking about her also, and if I were a guy, I would probably have screamed her name too.

I pull away, reach for my pants. Cape leans back into his pillows. I’m about to cry because of both the pain and the fact that I am not, and never will be, Meredith. Cape looks at me and says, “Sorry, Bettina, I didn’t mean it. I’m just so used to being with her.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say.

As he promised, Jake left his light on, and he’s sitting on his bed reading. He takes one look at my face and says, “Everything all right?”

“No,” I say to him for once, and I climb swiftly out his window.

T
HE NEXT WEEK, IT
seems all anyone my year can talk about is the Lower dance. The dance is not really the point; who you go with is. I’m more than curious to see what Cape will do. Will he ask Meredith? Even though they broke up, I know that he is still into her, since he called out her name during our ass-sex (as I am now referring to it). A small part of me hopes he’ll do something different and ask me. But once again, I indulge myself in a good mind-fuck.

Jake wants to take me to the crater, a no man’s land behind the railroad tracks where students get drunk and do drugs. It’s far enough away from campus to be off the radar of Cardiss teachers. I’m slightly disappointed because I want to go to the dance and show the school, and especially Cape, that I have a boyfriend. But Jake told me up front that dating wasn’t part of the deal.

We convene in Meredith’s room to discuss details. Holly is going with Ned, an insipid boy from her math class. He’s from Milwaukee and I wonder if he’ll bring her a corsage. Jess is going with Nathan, a bohemian type from her art class who has a ponytail. I wonder if she has any dresses to wear to the dance. She is always just this side of dressing like a boy. I tell them I’m going out with Jake but don’t go into details. Maybe he will just smash my head into a tree.

Meredith is strangely quiet. Despite her popularity, I don’t think anyone has asked her. Any boy other than Cape is probably afraid of being rejected.

“I happen to think the whole thing is stupid,” Meredith says. “I’m going home to NYC for the weekend to see my friends. They’re going to have a keg party and we’re going to play strip poker with some boys from Collegiate.” I think of Meredith’s adverse reaction to my vodka and wonder if she will risk drinking again. Probably, but she will stop in time to fool around with someone. I wish could go with her. See her sitting on some guy’s lap in her bra and underpants.

“You can come with us,” Holly says, thinking she is being helpful. “I’m sure Ned wouldn’t mind.”

Meredith would, however, and says, “Thanks, Holly, but I’m just not up to it. No offense, but I sit behind Ned in math, and the back of his neck is always sweating.”

Holly has never noticed this or thought to add it to her list of boy faults. She pretends her nails are suddenly fascinating.

Jess says, “Come on, Mere, if you aren’t at the dance, it won’t be as good. Maybe you could ask someone. No boy would say no to you.”

“I’m really not interested, sorry. I went to the dance last year and it was lame. All of those paper streamers in school colors, and the fucking balloons. It looked like a birthday party for a six-year-old.”

They give up on trying to convince her. Maybe she really does want to go to NYC after all. Recharge herself after the Cape debacle.

That evening, we have visiting hours. I am forced to suffer through Ned and Holly making small talk as I struggle with my calculus.

“Where do you want to go to dinner?” Ned asks.

“It doesn’t matter. If it’s too expensive, we can just eat at the dining hall,” Holly replies.

Ned laughs. “Holly, that would be so lame. What do you like to eat?”

“Anything!” she says, still not catching on that cool girls aren’t interested in food. She has probably gained ten pounds since the beginning of the year.

“Okay, I will just pick somewhere. I better get a kiss for this.”

Holly blushes. “We’ll see.” I know she is both embarrassed and happy that she might be able to impress Meredith with a kiss from Ned, despite the sweaty-neck situation.

On and on they go, navigating the particulars of the evening. I put my red Sony Walkman on and flop down on my bed, work on my math.

Since our door is open, I can see everyone coming and going. Since there are only four of us in the house, there’s usually not too much traffic. All of a sudden, I see a tall boy and a flash of dark hair. Cape. I have the absurd idea that he is going to come into our room and ask me to the dance. But no, of course not.