You Didn’t Know

I didn’t think what we were doing was wrong. I knew crawling under the motion-detecting hallway light to avoid waking up my sister sleeping in the living room was wrong. I knew getting into your car a few houses down was wrong. And when my sister asked if I took the dog out in the middle of the night because she saw a shadow on the patio, I should’ve said yes. Instead, I panicked and convinced her she saw a ghost.

And that was probably wrong, too.

*****

I had just lost my virginity. Again. This time, it was with a boy. The swimmer boy without a single hair on his body, leaving only the curls he allowed to rest on that rectangular head of his. I liked the comfort of his towering figure when we would walk in the park and pick up groceries for his mother. I liked how when he looked down at me, it felt as if the golden flecks in his green eyes were rays from the sun shining only for me.

He was the perfect boy. No other boy wrote me page-long poems just to make me blush. No other boy would have ever thought to gift me a yellow umbrella just because we shared a favorite sitcom. No other boy was perfect.

But he wasn’t.

Because that night, I had to be home by nine and it was a quarter ‘til. We had kissed in front of the flickering scenes playing on his television screen until our bodies became bare. It was a quarter ‘til nine and I tried to leave, but he said, “Wait, don’t go. You haven’t felt me yet.” So, I stayed. I let him pull out the little package from the top drawer of his dresser. I let him swing my legs to hang off the edge of his bed. I let him convince me that it would be quick.

And then I let him.

And when I felt it, it didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would have. And it didn’t feel as good as everyone made it out to be. Everything about it felt wrong. That’s when I knew. If this perfect boy in front and inside of me did not make me happy, then no boy ever could.

That was the November before my seventeenth birthday.

Before I could tell him I was no longer interested, he did what he did best and wrote me a page-long letter about how he was no longer interested in me. A relief came over me as I had been reluctant to tell the boy his dick made me confirm that I was a lesbian.

Because of him, I was eager to embrace my new identity. From the comfort of my own bed, I rushed to explore every possible way to make my way into another girl’s. My excitement didn’t allow me to sleep. How could I close my eyes? When all it took was one search of lesbian on Tumblr to display an endless feed of everything that made me tingle. An ad for a mobile app designed for queer women appeared on my screen. It was for eighteen and up. I was only sixteen, but my birthday was right around the corner. Seventeen is practically eighteen. So, I downloaded it, and registered as just that.

I hated it.

I think.

Any woman who found me attractive was able to message me. Almost instantly from the moment my profile was posted, I had strangers sending me heart-eyed emojis. Every other minute my phone vibrated with a new notification. I wanted it to annoy me, but it only boosted my confidence.

I didn’t reply to anyone’s message but yours. You sent, “Happy New Year!” The only person capable of forming a sentence. You asked me how I celebrated and I told you how I drank sparkling grape juice as my family watched the ball drop on the TV screen too small in proportion to the living room. You told me how you got drunk alone with your dog because your roommate hadn’t been home in a while.

Your words were so simple, they were inviting. I couldn’t help but to let myself in. We messaged for days telling each other about our family and our jobs. You learned my age and how you and my oldest sister graduated high school the same year. And I learned that your parents were ten years apart and your brother had married a girl who was also seven years younger than him, just like our difference. That’s why my age didn’t matter to you.

Maybe that’s why you didn’t know it was wrong either.

Only a week had passed since the new year had begun before we met for the first time. I waited in the empty parking lot of the mall for your shift to end, and you drove us to the restaurant people go to when they want to feel fancy but can’t afford it. When our server greeted us, you made sure to learn her name. Jackie. “Thank you, Jackie!” you’d say with a genuine smile even if all she did was refill our water. Jackie and I couldn’t help but to smile with you. How could we? With your smile fitting your face just right, forming two dimples on your cheeks that you didn’t even realize you had until I admitted how much I love them.

Halfway through the dinner you giggled about how it was supposed to be your wedding day. How you broke off the engagement with your fiancé just a few months ago. When I pushed for more details, all you said was that it just wasn’t working out as you shrugged your shoulders and shoveled a spoonful of casserole into your mouth. It was weird imagining you dolled in an ivory dress standing before a man. I pictured myself standing in front of you at the altar. You in a tuxedo and myself in the dress instead. I liked the picture I painted. I wanted to make sure I didn’t end up like him.

“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?” You grinned before swallowing. My body stiffened and the air flowing inside my body suddenly felt colder. You were right. You were with me instead of consummating with him.

I had never done the dinner-and-a-movie date. I had only seen those on TV. After dinner, we drove to the nearby theater and chose the next showing. You had already watched it weeks ago, but you didn’t bat an eye when buying the tickets. I could tell you weren’t planning on watching the movie anyway, but neither was I.

You lifted the armrest that separated us so you could wrap your arm around my waist. It didn’t lift enough to where it was flush with our seats, poking us between our shoulders. I didn’t want you to pull away, so I repressed my discomfort and laid my head on your shoulder. For the majority of the film, you rested your head upon mine. Every so often, I’d feel the weight of it disappear and your face subtly turn to look at me. I knew what you wanted, and I wanted to, too, but I kept my eyes glued to the screen. I realized I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that of two preteens, so I smirked each time you looked at me, hoping it’d only make you crave me more. I wanted the story of our relationship to be perfect. You didn’t know I was already writing it.

After the film, you brought me back to that empty parking lot and stood next to me as I jumped up to the driver seat of my van. Sitting in that seat, I was finally taller than you. That’s when I kissed you. I felt like a princess in a tower leaning out of a window. I liked the way your eyes looked up at me— full and desperate for more. Feeling your lips pressed to mine in the

middle of winter felt like a brand new tattoo— a permanent mistake I might regret for the rest of my life.

*****

My father had gone out of town for a job, but my sister was still home from college, still sleeping on the living room couch. We were having poker night at her boyfriend’s house when you texted me, “Come over and watch a movie with me, so I can hold you the right way.” I thought you didn’t know about the awkward armrest. That round, I went all-in with an empty hand.

I drove so quickly, the van didn’t have time to heat up. I knew it was wrong ditching poker night for you. I knew it wasn’t safe to go so far in the middle of the night. If he’d been home, my dad wouldn’t have allowed me to go to your side of town alone considering your neighborhood was notorious for the crime rate. In fact, had he been home, I wouldn’t have even asked because I’d be grounded for even asking such an absurd request. It wasn’t until after I arrived that I sent your address to my sister. She was more worried for me than angry with me.

I waited inside the van for you to escort me. You were stiff, walking with your hands shoved in your pockets, breath visible as you exhaled. The weather was miserable but we couldn’t resist smiling at each other. You were happy to see me. I was happy to have finessed my way there. You didn’t know that was the one night I could ever make it.

You held out a beer to me and I took it as naturally I could. You treated me like the age I wanted to be— the one you didn’t care that I wasn’t. Your breath had already told me you’d been drinking before my arrival. We clinked our freshly opened bottles as you held me right, just like you promised you would. We watched a movie from beginning to end, emptying bottle after bottle. I didn’t like the Corona at first, but it wasn’t too long before I barely tasted it anymore. It was the first time I had ever felt loose. We screamed at the TV together, laughing at the characters’ faults, arguing about which one we liked better. There was no pressure, no tension, just fun.

All it took was one kiss.

We stripped as we made our way from the couch to a bedroom until there was nothing left to keep us apart. We fucked until we lost count of whose turn it was to service the other, gasping for the air we were deprived of under the duvet. We were lying on our backs, staring at the emptiness above us when you said, “This isn’t my bed, you know.” I sat up to find the same childish grin you had when you told me about your ex-fiancé.

“Why did you bring me in here instead of yours?”

“His bed is more comfortable than mine.”

It wasn’t until then you explained your boyfriend of only a couple years had joined the military. How he convinced you to leave your Midwest town to follow him from one military base to another. But then he was deployed, and the two of you came to the conclusion that getting married wasn’t worth the little money the military gave to couples. Nor were you two in love anymore. If ever.

“We’re still friends,” you explained.

“I think we’ll always be friends.”

The light from my phone illuminated the room, waking us both. You rolled over to rest your head on my shoulder as I laid on my side.

“Is everything alright?” You sleepily croaked.

“You can go back to sleep. It’s just my dad wondering where I am.”

“Do you need to go home?”

“No, it’s four in the fucking morning,” my chuckle whispered.

“Good.”

When I saw my dad’s name as the sender, I thought he’d demand that I return home immediately. I didn’t tell him I was in your neighborhood, just that I was at a friend’s house. It was because of the time I was able to stay. I’m not sure how I kept getting lucky when I knew everything I was doing was wrong. My anxiety kept me awake for some time. Was he going to find out? Had he already found out?

But then you spooned my body into yours, and I fell asleep to the comfort of your protection.

*****

We didn’t see each other much when my winter break ended. I once brought you spicy noodles from my job to yours. Your coworker said, “Wow, she is cute,” and I watched you smile pridefully. Not too long after, you visited me after hours and we made out over the counter that separated the register from customers.

You saw the cameras, but you didn’t know they didn’t work.

That night you asked me, “What if I went on a date with another girl at your restaurant?” I told you I’d serve you.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just to see if you would care.”

“And if I did?”

“Well, you shouldn’t fall for someone like me.”

You didn’t know I already had.

*****

“Come over,” you insisted.

I couldn’t. It was a school night. And by the time you asked, it was already past midnight; everyone was asleep. I wasn’t driving the van anymore. My dad needed it for work. Instead he lent me his Ram truck so big I couldn’t even fit in the parking lot of your complex. There was absolutely no way in hell I was going to get it out of the driveway without springing my dad and sister awake.

“Well, I’ll come pick you up,” you were practically begging at that point.

I had never snuck out of the house until then. The bars my dad had put on the windows around the house made sure of that, even though it was meant to keep my dad’s criminal brother out. He’d been arrested for sleeping with minors shortly after I was born. I’d grown up with the bars thinking it was just part of the house.

After I packed my bag, I crawled to the side door, being sure to remain beneath the motion-detecting light in the hallway. Damn that thing Dad installed. It’d been there for years, even though we all knew Mom was never coming back home.

By the time I made it to the neighbor’s house, you pulled up to my location like I was at a bus stop. My mind was full of what-if scenarios the entire car ride. You didn’t offer to bring me back if I was too scared of getting caught.

You didn’t know I was afraid.

We fucked in your bed that night. You were right; it wasn’t as comfortable. But falling asleep was easy after everything we did to each other. When the alarm for 6 AM pried my eyes open, I found no texts from my dad or sister. I dreaded parting from your naked warmth, but every minute I stayed in your bed, I was increasing my risk of getting caught. I silently crawled out from between you and the wall and dressed for school. You still hadn’t woken up, still lying cozily between the sheets. I couldn’t help but to lie back down in the same place I had risen from, and you smiled with your eyes still closed as you held me once more.

Neither of us knew it’d be the last time.

I finally told my best friend Cristal everything that happened. It all came as a shock to her— your age, the sneaking around, the not getting caught. She was proud of me for pulling a twenty-three-year-old, joking about how she should leave her boyfriend for an college guy. It was Cristal who proposed that I invite you to our tennis match that Friday because she wanted to see what you looked like in person. I told her you looked exactly like your photos, but I think she wanted to see if you would actually show.

It was a home game, and I knew you didn’t have work at the time of the match. You said you would try to come and I believed you. I had finished playing my doubles match with Cristal, yet you still hadn’t arrived. The other high school we were playing against was the easiest school in the district to defeat. I saw it as a perfect opportunity to impress you. I wish you’d seen us win so easily. Then my singles match began. I was lucky enough to play on the court right in front of the bleachers. You hadn’t shown up yet, but if you had, I’d be right there spiking the ball in front of you.

Point after point, I scanned the bleachers, still waiting for you. I started to hit the ball out of bounds more consistently, losing each game to my own faults. I could hear my teammates sighing when I missed a point. Every time I looked back, I searched for you to cheer me on.

I practically forfeited the game to the worst player on the worst team. I had been lucky with everything up until that point. Everyone thought I was crying because of either losing or the embarrassment of who I lost to. Only my best friend knew the truth.

I didn’t ask why you didn’t attend. That seemed like a childish thing to do. Instead, I texted you, crying in my bathroom, that it was best if we didn’t prolong whatever relationship we had with each other. You were the one who asked why. I told you it was because I was falling for you, even though you specifically told me not to. Your only response was, “Oh.” Then we agreed it was over.

I cried for weeks. Our fling barely even lasted as long as I mourned for. On my seventeenth birthday, I refused to celebrate with anyone, including my father. I wanted only to be with you. I waited for you to break our silence, wishing me a happy birthday at least— just like new year.

Nothing.

It was that week I caved in and reached out to you instead, proposing we be simple friends. I couldn’t bear not talking to you, even if we weren’t flirting like we used to. You said it wasn’t a good idea, but it was my turn to be persistent.

I watched the stories you posted online every day, wondering how I could write myself in. You found a new girlfriend— one who attended the easiest college in my hometown; one who was closer to your age. I felt like I’d lost to someone so mediocre. I watched as you left me behind to travel the country together. I watched the videos you posted of you two hiking and clinking beers on massive boulders, posing with nothing but crisp mountains hovering behind you.

That should be me.

It was all I could remind myself each day.

I my spent years in college wondering what would have happened had I not been the one to break it off. One night stands with girls who refused to drink anything but White Claws left me thinking about you as I emptied my mini fridge full of Coronas all by myself. Would you have broken it off because I went to college? Would you have followed me like you did with your fiancé? Would I have introduced you to my family? Would we have started a family?

I had to convince myself you’d end it with me first. It was the only way to quiet the spiraling thoughts. The scenario that worked best was the one where you’d try to take me hiking on a weekend, and I would tell you I couldn’t because my dad would never let me. You’d joke about winning him over with your charm. But I’d have to remind you how we’re both girls— you, actually, a woman. That you were a whopping seven years older than me. How you would just say, “Oh.” And that would trigger you to realize that I couldn’t give you what you wanted.

Then I turned the same age you had been when you met me. It felt like I was the only one who had aged. When I saw you started hiking alone, I found that every trace of your girlfriend had been wiped. I didn’t think you’d stay in my hometown as long as you had. You didn’t know I had kept up with your life as long as I had. I figured the worst that could happen if I asked you out for drinks was that you’d read my message and refuse to reply.

Luckily, you said yes.

We sipped our Coronas as we caught up. I could finish them more quickly than I could when we first met. You told me the details of your life I would’ve never gathered from your social media. How your girlfriend left you for a military man because he promised her the world. How even though you moved up in the company, your mall job could never provide her that. I sat and listened, mostly. I told you how I came out to my dad and it turned into a violent argument. He called me ungrateful and his biggest regret, and that I left the house and never went back. Then I told you how he died, and you gave me your condolences in the form of a hug. I missed the feeling of your arms around me. For the first time, it felt like we were finally in the same world.

Now, what we’re doing isn’t wrong. There’s no reason to hide who I am anymore. There’s no one to hide our love from. No approval to seek from anyone. We can travel anywhere in the world together. We’re finally the couple we were meant to be.

Back then, you didn’t know what we were doing was wrong.

But that’s because I never told you.