The Secret Beneath the Veil

“I wasn’t a very happy teenager, obviously,” she began. “I did what a lot of disheartened young girls do. I looked for a boy to save me. There was a nice one who didn’t have much, but he had a kind heart. I can’t say I loved him, not even puppy love, but I liked him. We started seeing each other on the sly, behind Grigor’s back. After a while it seemed like the time to, you know, have sex.”

The toaster made a few pinging, crackling noises and the kettle was beginning to hiss. She chewed her lip, fully grown and many years past it, but still chagrined.

“I mean, fourteen is criminally young, I realize that. And not having any really passionate feelings for him... It’s not a wonder it didn’t work.”

“Didn’t work,” he repeated, like he was testing words he didn’t know.

She clenched her eyes shut. “He didn’t fit. It hurt too much and I made him stop. Please don’t laugh,” she rushed to add.

“I’m not laughing.” His voice was low and grave. “You’re telling me you’re a virgin? You never tried again?”

“Oh, I did,” she said to the ceiling, insides scraped hollow.

She moved around looking for the tea and butter, trying to escape how acutely humiliating this was.

“My life was a mess for quite a while, though. Grigor found out I’d been seeing the boy and that I’d gone to the police about Mum. He kicked me out and I moved to London. That was a culture shock. The weather, the city. Aunt Hildy had all these rules. It wasn’t until I finished my A levels and was working that I started dating again. There was a guy from work. He was very smooth. I realize now he was a player, but I was quite taken in.”

The toast popped and she buttered it, taking her time, spreading right to the edges.

“He laughed when I told him why I was nervous.” She scraped the knife in careful licks across the surface of the toast. “He was so determined to be The One. We fooled around a little, but he was always putting this pressure on me to go all the way. I wanted to have sex. It’s supposed to be great, right?”

Pressure arrived behind her eyes again. She couldn’t look at him, but she listened, waiting for his confirmation that yes, all the sex he’d had with his multitude of lovers had been fantastic.

Silence.

“Finally I said we could try, but it really hurt. He said it was supposed to and didn’t want to stop. I lost my temper and threw him out. We haven’t spoken since.”

“Do you still work with him?”

“No. Old job. Long gone.” The toast was buttered before her on two plates, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn and see his reaction.

She was all cried out, but familiar, hopeless angst cloaked her. She just wanted to be like most people and have sex and like it.

“Are you laughing?” Her voice was thready and filled with the embarrassed anguish she couldn’t disguise.

“Not at all.” His voice sounded like he was talking from very far away. “I’m thinking that not in a thousand years would I have guessed that. Nothing you do fits with the way other people behave. It didn’t make sense that you would give me pleasure and not want anything for yourself. You respond to me. I couldn’t imagine why you didn’t want sex.”

“I do want sex,” she said, flailing a frustrated hand. “I just don’t want it to hurt.” She finally turned and set his plate of toast on the island, avoiding his gaze.

The kettle boiled, giving her breathing space as she moved to make the tea. When she sat down, she went around the far end of the island and took the farthest stool from where he stood ignoring the toast and tea she’d made for him.

She couldn’t make herself take a bite. Her body was hot and cold, her emotions swinging from hope to despair to worry.

“You’re afraid I wouldn’t stop if we tried.” His voice was solemn as he promised, “I would, you know. At any point.”

A tentative hope moved through her, but she shook her head. “I don’t want to be a project.” Her spoon clinked lightly as she stirred the sugar into her tea. “I can’t face another humiliating attempt. And yes, I’ve been to a doctor. There’s nothing wrong. I’m just...unusually...” She sighed hopelessly. “Can we stop talking about this?”