“Don’t talk to me like that,” I fume, hurrying after him.
“I don’t know what kind of messed up shit you’re hiding behind that pretty face,” he says, “But you need some serious help. Enjoy your drink, Kassie.”
“It’s Kassenia,” I snap, “Only my friends get to call me Kassie, you presumptuous prick.”
Stephen wrenches open the front door and hurries away with his tail between his legs. I slam the door behind him and snatch up my whiskey glass once again. The fiery drink only stokes my fuming mind as I retreat to my bedroom, angry and alone.
Yep. Just a typical Saturday night for Kassenia Bennett.
I sink down onto my rumpled bed, tucking my long legs beneath me. My thoughts spiral off into anger, embarrassment, resentment, all the usual stops. I’ve gotten so good at hiding my real feelings, tamping down all of my pain. But tonight got the best of me. If Stephen hadn’t mentioned my dad, I would have been able to keep my cool. But the memories of my father and my family will always be like an open wound. And tonight, Stephen poured a bucket of salt right into it. I’m still smarting as I go on nursing my amber liquor and cursing creatively under my breath.
“Looks like it’s just you and me again tonight, Jim,” I sigh. At least there’s one constant man in my life.
My cell phone chirps on the other side of the bed. I glance over and see that it’s Kelly calling. Relieved, I put the call on speaker and lean back against the wall.
“What’s up, Kel?” I ask, my voice deflated.
“Yikes,” she replies, “That is not the voice of someone whose date went well.”
“Yeah...Stephen’s a no-go,” I tell her.
“I could have told you that,” she replies, “He’s a lax bro, for god’s sake. When have you ever met a lax bro who you didn’t instantly want to nut punt?”
I smile, despite my morose mood. Kelly Rodgers and I go back to our freshman year of undergrad at UCONN. That girl has seen me through crises both minute and infinitely huge. Even in the darkest, dreariest moments, she can make me feel like everything is going to be OK. I honestly don’t know how I would have made it through school, or life, without her.
“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I sort of anticipated that your date might not go so well...” she says.
“Thanks a lot,” I laugh.
“Don’t mention it. So, I may have picked up some pizza and a bottle of wine in your neighborhood,” she presses on, “And I may have just seen Stephen leave your apartment in a huff...and I might just possibly be at your door.”
I uncurl my long body and hurry to my front door, pulling it open expectantly. Sure enough, Kelly’s standing on my doorstep. Her tight, jet black curls tumble down her back in perfect order, and her bright green eyes sparkle with excitement. Her pixie-like frame is as well-dressed as ever in light skinny jeans and a flowing sapphire blouse, but the real miracle is what she holds in her well-manicured hands—a huge pizza box, and a bottle of our favorite cabernet sauvignon.
“You, my friend, are a vision,” I tell her.
“And you...look like you need some girl talk,” she says, cocking her head at me.
“That’s the truth,” I say, as Kelly breezes past me into the kitchen. She rustles through my cabinets, totally at home. It makes sense, of course. Kelly and I are like sisters, after all the years we’ve spent together. I’m closer with her now than I ever got to be with my biological sister, even. And while that’s not the easiest thing to think about, it does make me grateful to have found a friend as constant and fierce as Kelly.
“OK, here we are,” she says, hoisting two gigantic slices of pizza onto my chipped plates. “Grab the booze, and we’ll commence with the post mortem,” she commands me, bustling off into my bedroom.
Whiskey in one hand and wine in the other, I follow her. We settle cross-legged onto the floor, among my various text books and study guides. My apartment is filled with academic flotsam and jetsam. Both of us are knee-deep in finals right now, but a minute on this little island of sisterhood is exactly what I need.
“So, Stephen was a dud?” Kelly asks, pouring herself a deep glass of wine, “I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping you might get a little action tonight.”
“Oh, he was fine in the sack,” I tell her.
“Kassie,” she says, leveling her matter-of-fact gaze at me, “You can’t say ‘in the sack’ unless you’re talking about having sex.”
“Why not?” I ask, “We were in the sack, so to speak—”
“It’s just misleading,” she cuts in, “When you say ‘in the sack’, I get all excited thinking that you’ve finally let go of that pesky virginity of yours.”
I roll my eyes, unwilling to get into this for the umpteenth time. “When I do have sex with someone, you’ll be the first one to know,” I tell her, “Who else would I go to?”
“I just honestly don’t know how you do it,” she says, shaking her head, “I mean, Jesus. I was sleeping with guys when I was sixteen. And here you are at twenty-five, never having done the nasty. I’d never have been able to wait that long. I was just so curious about it all.”
“I’m curious too,” I tell her, “I’ve just never been curious enough to sleep with some random guy. I’ve got plenty of time for sex, when I meet someone I’m actually that attracted to.”
“I’ve just never understood what the big deal is,” Kelly sighs, “I mean...it’s just sex. It’s all physical. There doesn’t have to be anything deep and enlightening behind it.”
“But I want there to be,” I insist, “When I finally have sex with someone, I’d kind of like it to be significant. Not just a roll in the hay with Stephen what’s-his-name.”
“I know, I know,” Kelly says, pulling some melty cheese off of her pizza, “I guess I just can’t imagine what it feels like, having that relationship with sex. It’s always just been kind of casual for me.”
“And that’s fine too,” I shrug, “But it’s personal, Kel. Everyone’s going to have their own feelings about it. And my feeling is that I like getting off as much as anyone, but I’m not going to sleep with someone until it feels right.”