For Lucy

“Just … what?”

“Can I ask you something? And I don’t care what the answer is. Really. I won’t tell anyone. And it doesn’t affect the way I feel about you.”

“Sounds serious.” I paused my fiddling with the phone cord and rolled onto my side with my head propped on my arm.

“It’s not really serious, just awkward. Like I’m afraid you’re going to feel embarrassed that I’m asking you this.”

“Jeez, Tatum. Just ask me. Why would I get upset?”

“Fine … are you …”

“Am I?”

“Are you a virgin?” she asked just above a whisper, which made me wonder if she was in the same room as her roommates who were not out of town yet.

“What?” I held the phone away from my ear and stared at it as if I hadn’t heard her correctly, or it got messed up through the phone like a bad game of Telephone.

“It’s fine if you are.”

“I’m not!” That came out a little harsher than I intended.

“Okay. But it’s okay if you are.”

“But. I’m. Not!”

“Okay. Okay. I just had to ask.”

“Do I look like a virgin?” I sat up in bed, propelled by adrenaline.

“Well…” she chuckled “…I don’t think virgins have a look. But you said last week that you’ve never had a girlfriend. And you read a lot of non-fiction books. And you live with your parents. So if one were to stereotype a virgin, you’d kinda fit.”

“Jesus, Tatum. Thanks a lot.”

“See. I knew you’d get upset.”

“I’m not upset. I’m …”

I wasn’t sure what I was at the moment.

Offended?

Shocked?

Emasculated?

Definitely confused.

“Emmett … it’s also because you haven’t … well … you know.”

“No. I don’t know.”

She blew out a long sigh. “You end our dates with a kiss. And it’s been a month. And I know that everyone has a different timeline for things like sex, but I thought you were really attracted to me. But every date is a kiss goodnight. Every time I invite you to my apartment, you turn me down. So I’m sorry, but it’s starting to feel like maybe you’re saving yourself for marriage, and you just don’t have the nerve to tell me yet. And again … if that’s the case, I don’t care. I just want to know so I don’t come across as some hussy begging for sex with my boyfriend. I mean … if you’re … you know … if you are in fact my boyfriend. Cause it feels like you are.”

I couldn’t have felt more blindsided had she literally ran me over with her car. God … the embarrassment. Where did I go wrong? How did I misread her cues?

Click.

I hung up the phone. It wasn’t a great move, but I had nothing to say, so what other choice did I have? Things were really messed-up. I needed to fix them. Pacing the old shag carpet in our basement for the better part of the night, I waited for her to call back in case she had more to say.

She did not.

The next morning, I called in sick to work, a risky move given the fact that my boss was my brother, and he would likely follow up with Mom on my condition. What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t work because I had a bad case of Mistaken Virginity? My parents were none the wiser since I packed a lunch as if I were going to work, donned my usual work clothes—old jeans and a Carhartt sweatshirt—and headed off to work on time.

Instead of work, I grabbed breakfast at the café then drove around town before settling on a new construction house with Tatum’s name on the real estate sign and called the number.

“Hi. Is there any way I can get a tour of the house for sale at 219 SW 3rd Street?” I asked some woman named Susan who answered the phone at the real estate office. If I’d have called Tatum, there was a chance she would not have answered me.

Thirty minutes later, she was at the house. I hopped out of my truck parked across the street and made my way to the door as she inspected me through narrowed eyes just as she got the key out of the lockbox. “Let me guess … you’re Richard Head? No wonder my boss told me to proceed with caution and bring my pepper spray.” She rolled her eyes as she unlocked the door. “So you’re suddenly in the market for a new house? A three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar house?”

“No. I just didn’t like the way our call ended last night.” I followed her into the empty house. It smelled of new everything—a mix of paint and other odd chemical odors.

“Things ended with you acting really weird about your virginity then hanging up on me.” She turned, slipping off her wool coat before leaning against a round white pillar at the entrance to the great room. “You hung up on me.” She crossed her arms over her chest which pulled down the V-neck to her cream sweater that looked incredibly sexy with her black mini skirt, opaque tights, and knee-high boots.