“The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.” Beep. “No connection under this number.” Beep.
I finally lowered the phone and cradled it in my lap. I’d tried to call Imogen for what felt like the hundredth time in the last two months. Nothing. Always nothing.
The first couple of weeks, I hadn’t worried too much. Imogen was unpredictable and sometimes forgot everything but herself, but she’d always call or text after a while. I was angry when she didn’t even call to wish Finn a happy birthday; Mum and I managed to distract him with an abundance of chocolate cake, presents, and a visit to the zoo. Two months without any word was too much even for my sister. Something was up, and my gut told me it wasn’t good.
I peered out the small window of our apartment right above Merchant’s Arch restaurant and bar, where Mum had been working as a waitress for the last five years—it was her restaurant before that, but my father’s debts from the past finally caught up to us and she’d been forced to relinquish ownership. Now all that was left of her dream was a heap of debt. We had been lucky that Sean, the new owner, was a sweetheart and had the hots for Mum.
This call—or lack thereof—only affirmed my decision, one I’d made weeks ago when my worry for Imogen morphed into fear.
The bell rang and I closed my ancient laptop. I was planning on watching the newest cooking video of one of my favorite chefs in the event that Patrick stood me up again. Sean had given Mum the laptop when he’d bought a new Macbook a year ago. If it weren’t for him, we’d still be stuck with our ten-year-old computer. I got up from the kitchen table and looked at the alley below already filling with party folks.
Per usual, Patrick arrived late. Most of the time, we just watched TV together, because I had to stay with Finn, and Patrick was always low on money. He showed up wearing baggy jeans with his boxer shorts peeking out at the top, and I had to bite my tongue. He knew I hated the look, but his friends wore it and so he did too, even though it made him look younger than his nineteen years. His attempt to grow a beard, which so far only resulted in patches of blond fuzz on his cheeks, chin and above his upper lip, didn’t help.
His expression was tight, almost looking guilty, when he came inside after a quick kiss. I smelled beer on his breath, which was probably the reason for his tardiness. He plopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV without a word.
I sank down beside him. “Can we talk?”
“Sure,” he said. His voice sounded off. He didn’t look away from the TV.
I sighed. “I still can’t reach Imogen, so I’ll follow my plan.”
He gave me a confused look. “What plan?”
“The one I’ve been telling you about for the last two weeks,” I muttered. “About me flying to New York to look for her.”
He nodded, but I could tell that he hadn’t been listening when I’d first told him about my plan. He attention was back to the TV.
“It could be several weeks before I return,” I said apologetically. Our first anniversary was right around the corner, and I felt guilty for having to miss it.
Patrick scratched his head and gave me a sheepish look. “Maybe it’s good for us to be apart for a bit.”
My eyebrows shot up. We had been dating for less than a year and he needed space?
He looked down at his sneakers. “I wanted to tell you last time but I didn’t know how… you know, when I was out with the boys last Friday?”
I nodded, remembering seeing him the following afternoon, still stinking of beer and quite tipsy.
“I kind of messed around with another woman.”
“What?”
“I was drunk and she made a move on me. I barely remember anything.”
“What do you mean messed with?” I asked, trying to keep my voice down because Finn was sleeping in the room next door.
“I banged her.”
Behind the guilt, I detected the flicker of pride and excitement in his voice, and it reflected in his brown eyes too. I felt sick. Patrick and I had spent time together and even kissed right after he’d cheated on me. I’d forced him to shower to get sober and wash the stink off so I wouldn’t throw up.
I stood, trying not to lose it. “You should have told me right away!”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
“No, you hoped you could bang me too,” I growled. He’d tried to talk me into sleeping with him that day, and if he hadn’t been drunk, I might have considered it. I was feeling lost since Imogen had left and wanted comfort. To think I’d believed Patrick could give it to me made me even angrier.
“Maybe it’s for the best, you know? I talked to the boys. We have been together for eleven months and you’ve made me wait all this time. I have urges. My balls are blue.”
“Were,” I corrected past the lump in my throat. “Were blue. Don’t forget the girl you banged.” I didn’t mention that we’d had a talk about my wish to wait and Patrick had pretended to understand my reasoning.
My gaze flitted toward the hallway, half wishing Finn would barge in and interrupt this conversation. Tears pressed against my eyelids. I couldn’t believe I’d almost given up my virginity to an asshole like Patrick.
“Yeah, were,” Patrick agreed, again with a hint of excitement. “They said it’s natural to want to spread your wings as a man, you know? It’s the testosterone.”
I almost lost it. Where was your testosterone every time I had to remove a spider from the ceiling because you don’t like them? And when you let those tourists from Glasgow clap my ass without a word because they were too many for you to take?
“I suppose that’s it, then,” I said, surprised at the emotionless note of my voice.
Patrick’s eyes widened in alarm. He made a move as if to hug me, but I dodged the attempt. I didn’t want his touch. “Aislinn, I still care about you, and I don’t want to break up. I just think I need a little break. That way I can let off some steam, live a little without hurting you, right? And then when we’re back together, I’ll be relaxed enough to wait a bit longer. It’ll only be a bit longer, right?”
I stared at him. Was he being serious? Did he really think I’d come back to him and actually sleep with him? “Maybe I’ll spread my wings during our break as well.”
Patrick actually laughed. “I know you’re not the kind of girl who sleeps with just any guy. You want to wait for the right moment with the right guy.”
He sounded as if he still actually believed he was that guy.
“So you’re going to bang every girl who wants you during our break while I search for my sister and think of our reunion?”
“I’ll miss you too, but it’s for the best.”
My sarcasm had been lost on him. It’s not that I had never wondered about how it would be to have sex, but Mum and Imogen’s experiences had turned me off from the idea of having sex. I knew all about contraception but in my head, sex had bad consequences. I’d never dreamed about sleeping with Patrick, but sometimes I did fantasize about the occasional celebrity or hero from a romance novel. Sex was never important enough to me to give it more than a fleeting thought, and Patrick’s kisses and touch hadn’t been enjoyable enough to entice me into giving up my plan of waiting at least a year before sleeping with a man.
I had made the decision to sleep with Patrick before my flight to New York, more out of a necessary duty than my body’s desire. Now I felt almost relieved that Patrick had cheated and spared me our no doubt disappointing sexual encounter. He could disappoint other girls all he wanted for all I cared.
Despite this, I fell asleep with a heavy heart and tear-stained cheeks that night.
