“A friend from school,” I lied.
Ruiz was in his third year of college and besides, Momma would’ve completely lost it if she knew I’d been out alone with him. She still was hung up on his father; at least it seemed that way. She never passed up an opportunity to trash him.
“Your ass better not be pregnant!” she screamed. “You better not be!”
“Momma, I’m not pregnant,” I assured her, glad that Ruiz had been prepared with condoms. If there hadn’t been any, I probably would’ve done it anyway. Having known him for so long and fantasizing daily about being with him, I could see how young girls could easily be trusting and give it up without protection.
I started undressing and that was a huge mistake. I didn’t realize that my panties were spotted with blood.
“Damn,” Momma said. “It really happened.”
I paused in the middle of my bedroom floor before pulling my cotton nightgown over my head and down over my hips. I really wanted to take a shower but there was no way I was walking past Momma to get to the hallway. I could smell the sex on me—a new scent for me but an all too familiar one for her. There was no way she’d miss it and surely had already caught a whiff. With my clothes off and my panties airing out freely under my gown, it was unmistakable.
?
??Oh, my panties,” I finally whispered. “I’m about to come on my period.”
I climbed in my bed and turned off the lamp on my nightstand, hoping she’d take the hint and go to her own room so she could pass out from her regular alcohol poisoning.
Then I heard her sobs.
I cut the light back on. “Momma, what’s wrong?”
She came over and sat down on the edge of my bed, patting my thigh under the comforter. “I really wanted something better for you, baby.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I’d hoped that things would be different for you.”
I was stunned. Somehow she knew that I’d lost my virginity that night; like she’d sensed it; like we were kindred spirits. I decided to come clean.
“Momma, I’ll be honest. I did have sex for the first time tonight but it’s okay. I don’t regret it.”
She ran her fingers through my hair. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, he didn’t, Momma. It was…”
“It was what, baby?”
“It was special; it really was.”
“Do you love him?” she asked.
“In a way.” I lowered my eyes from her. “At least, I thought I did.”
“So you gave it up for nothing,” she stated with disdain. Her demeanor suddenly turned cold as she got up from my bed and walked into the hallway. “Welcome to the world of whoredom!” she yelled as she slammed my bedroom door.
As I sat there in my dorm room that Thanksgiving Day, surfing the Internet for information on upcoming activities on campus, that statement Momma had made that day flooded throughout my mind over and over. “Welcome to the world of whoredom!”
Since the loss of my virginity, I’d been with numerous men; each time believing that the current selection would be “the one.” The one who’d love me; the one who’d cherish me; the one who’d stand in my corner. Each of them would enter my life, full of promises that quickly turned into lies and betrayal. I’d tried dating young men my age—the ones who appeared mature—but they were only after one thing; my sex. Once they got it, they moved on to their next victim. I’d tried dating slightly older men—the ones who wanted younger showpieces on their arms. They’d shower me with presents, take me to cultural events, and then expect me to give it up in return. I did most of the time. After all, they were at least spending some money on me; unlike the struggling college students who attempted to get some play.
I’d most recently been dating a man named Solomon. He was twenty-eight, nine years my senior, and a paralegal for a local law firm. We’d made it through three months of romance and sex and I wondered how much longer it would last. There was no question that it would end. We weren’t even halfway compatible. It was a shame. That night with Ruiz, I was simply something for him to do. Now Solomon was simply something for me to do; a way to kill some time until Mr. Right finally came along.
Solomon had gone to Texas to visit his grandparents for Thanksgiving; a family tradition of his. His parents and siblings were joining him there. Never once did he extend an invitation to me; even when he knew I would be on campus alone. That let me know that I wasn’t special.
I went to a diner called the Jukebox for dinner. I ordered the blue plate special; obviously turkey, dressing, rice, and string beans because it was Thanksgiving. All the other booths were either occupied by families who’d burnt dinner or didn’t feel like cooking in the first place, or individuals who had somehow ended up alone for the holiday—whether by their own volition or someone else’s.
I spotted a young African-American male in a booth on the other side of the diner. I’d seen him before, on campus. He had a different major so we’d never had a reason to speak. He started eyeing me and I didn’t break my stare. Why not flirt a little? Solomon wasn’t thinking about my ass. He was down in Texas eating high on the hog—a real Thanksgiving dinner—and I was eating a blue plate special.