“I need to get some laser,” Callie grumbles to herself as she inspects her bikini line around the edges of her pink bikini. She glances over at me. “When are you due again? We should go together.”
I frown as I think. “I just had it. I’m not going back for ages.”
“I wish I had the money to get my vagina zapped by an electric current that would paralyse the hair follicles,” Meredith says, her voice monotone as she lies on her towel next to me.
“You should get a job,” Callie tells her, lying back on her towel and closing her eyes.
“I’ve been thinking about becoming a prostitute,” Meredith says seriously.
“What? Why?” Callie frowns, horror etching her features.
“Well, duh.” Meredith widens her eyes, calling Callie stupid without actually saying the words aloud. “You get paid to have sex with men.”
I smile with my eyes closed. Somehow, and I honestly, really don’t know how, Callie and I have adopted Meredith. Our twosome has now become a group of three. Meredith is actually kooky, funny, and gives us hours of entertainment.
We don’t know her diagnosis, but we know she is somewhere on the spectrum. We have gotten used to her lack of brain-to-mouth filter, and underneath all of those highly inappropriate comments, there’s a young woman who is just doing the best she can. She’s a good person, and both Callie and I feel protective over her because we know how hard she has been done to over the years. We both feel that we are all Meredith has in her life now. There is a reason she met us.
Her mother is somewhere on the spectrum, too, which hasn’t helped the situation. Meredith had no guidance at all on what is appropriate to say out loud to people.
The three of us are currently at Bondi Beach. It’s 3:00 p.m. on a perfectly sunny Saturday. The beach is packed, and music is playing from the bar across the road.
“Are you a virgin, Meredith?” I ask, curious as to why she’s always wanting so much sex.
“No,” she answers casually.
Callie and I both sit up, resting on our elbows as we watch her. “Who did you have sex with?” I ask, surprised.
“Frank.”
“Who’s Frank?” Callie asks.
“He’s the cleaner of our building.”
My mouth falls open. “What the heck, Meredith?”
“But it’s a secret.”
“Why?”
“Because Frank has sort of got a girlfriend.”
Callie and I look at each other, shocked. “So, you slept with him when you knew he had a sort-of girlfriend?”
“Yep. In the broom closet, in the basement.”
“Meredith,” Callie groans. “You can’t sleep with someone when you know they have a girlfriend.”
“But his girlfriend is Peachy Sue. She doesn’t care.”
I curl my nose up. “Peachy Sue? Who is Peachy Sue?”
“She lives on level one.” Meredith smiles up at the sun, completely relaxed. “She sleeps with men for money.”
Callie and I look at each other again, our eyes getting wider and wider. “A prostitute lives downstairs?” I dare myself to ask Meredith.
“Yeah, and they call her Peachy Sue because her vagina is as soft as a peach. Frank says it’s juicy like a peach, too.”
I fall back on the sand, exasperated. “So, Frank fucked you because his girlfriend fucks other men.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you still fuck him?” Callie asks, fascinated.
“No.” She lies still for a moment. “I used to, a lot, but I’m not doing that anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because he keeps ejaculating in my mouth and I don’t like the taste of it.”
A giggle bubbles up in my chest.
“I think I want to do what Peachy Sue does,” Meredith says.
“Why?”
“Because I’m horny all the time.”
“God, me, too.” I sit up and dust the sand from my legs and I put my hair up into a bun on the top of my head. “That damn gym junkie has ruined me. What I wouldn’t give to be…” My voice trails off. “I’m a sex-starved nympho.” I look out over the people swimming in the water. “My phone vibrating in my pocket nearly gives me an orgasm these days.”
“What’s a nympho?” Meredith asks.
“Someone who wants to have sex a lot,” I reply.
“Then I’m a sex-starved nympho, too,” she says seriously.
“Why don’t you just get a boyfriend, Meredith?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know anyone who wants to be my boyfriend.”
Callie looks at me quizzically, and I shrug back at her. We’ve been debating on whether or not to take her on a night out with us. We have no idea how she is going to handle social situations. The crazy thing is that you get used to her weirdness. It’s actually endearing.
“Maybe you should come out clubbing with us sometime,” Callie suggests casually.
Meredith’s eyes widen. “Could I?”
I smile. “Of course you can.” I think for a moment. “You can wear my clothes, and we will do your hair and stuff.” Because God knows, we can’t take her out in her own clothes.