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There are a few fundamental truths to the universe, my girl. The sun will always rise, even over a bad mood. Exercise always makes you feel more sane. And chocolate soothes the soul.
“I made the batter when I saw that handsome man come in here to discuss the security system instead of Nino himself,” she told me.
“Mom…” I said, shaking my head, but I was already reaching for one of the cookies. Still warm. Like she’d timed it perfectly.
“Oh, Savannah,” she sighed, shaking her head at me. “Do you really think I didn’t feel the air sizzle around you two? Something is going on there, whether you want to admit that to your dear old mom or not.”
“You’re not old,” I objected. And it was true. I mean, she’d gotten pregnant with me when she was barely twenty. We’d practically grown up together.
“Do you remember when you were seventeen, and you went with that sweet boy to a fall festival?” she asked. “And you came home and I knew?” she asked.
Oh, my losing my v-card story.
My mom, who fully believed that virginity as it was known in today’s society was a social construct, had somehow seen or felt or whatever the change in me that night. Despite it not being the first time I was out late with a boy.
“We didn’t have sex,” I told her. Waving down at my body, I added, “It wouldn’t really be fun when I’m like this.”
“There are many kinds of sex,” she said, picking up her own cookie, bending a piece off of it, and popping it into her mouth, eyes knowing.
“Fine. Things have… been a little steamy. But…”
“But?” she prompted. “Come on, baby, who do you know who has more knowledge into the ways of men?” she asked.
“Good point,” I agreed, shoving half a cookie in my mouth and chewing, trying to find a way to phrase it that would make sense to anyone but me. “But then he acts like nothing at all has happened,” I told her.
“In a ‘men don’t always feel emotionally attached with sex’ kind of way?” she asked.
“No. It’s different. I don’t know. I don’t understand it. I guess that’s why it is driving me so crazy. The thing that is so strange is that he has taken such good care of me. It feels off that he would do that, then act like something more just… didn’t happen.”
“Hmm,” she said, picking up her tea, cradling it, but not taking a sip as she thought back. “Perhaps he is just biding his time until you heal? Sensing, like you do, that sex wouldn’t be all that it could be right now?” she suggested, then, dead serious, she added, “Or maybe he is insecure about a micro-penis.”
“Mom!” I said, half choking on my tea as I tried to sip some.
“What? They exist!”
“I know they exist. I mean, in theory, not practice. Wait,” I said, knowing that look in her eye. “Do you know? In practice?”
“Let’s just say that if a man is skilled and generous in other areas, that any sort of penis situation can be handled.”
“Okay. I’m… okay.”
“It was actually…”
“Nope. No. I’m cutting you off there,” I said with the first genuine smile I’d felt all day. “I really don’t need to put penises to faces of men I’ve known. That came out wrong,” I said when she laughed. “But, ah, no, that’s not the problem,” I told her.
I’d felt his hardness pressing against me.
Long and thick and making me ache to feel him fill me.
“Then that does seem pretty odd,” she agreed. “I do know that he feels guilty for what happened to you.”
“I know,” I agreed. “I tried to explain to him that there is nothing to feel guilty about. He won’t accept that, it seems. I mean, maybe the cameras system is the end of it, though. What?” I asked when her gaze slipped down for a second too long.
“It’s just… have you noticed anything about all the new customers the past two days?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“About how they all kind of… look alike?” she asked.
