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I nod and drive the rest of the way home in a fog of disbelief. The only thing left now is to tell Suri.
*
"You're doing what?"
Suri's mouth is filled with cashews, but she doesn't spit them out or even choke. She simply speaks around them and then swallows, and I have the hilarious thought that Suri would probably be a great prostitute.
"I'm selling my V-card," I tell her again, leaning on the iron breakfast table.
Her face is comical. All her features twist, like she might laugh. Then her mouth pulls down, like a sad clown. "Lizzy, why? Why would you do that?"
I think for a second before replying, because I need to give Suri a certain impression. One that will prevent her from trying to stop me. I shrug, hoping for casual.
"I have it, and I definitely don't need it." An image of Hunter and Priscilla flits through my mind; I shove it away. "I figured why not do something useful with it? I'm thinking of making it a project for my PhD. You know, writing about value judgments people place on things. One sexual encounter is just that: it's a ten minute thing. And virginity? It's just a hymen, an antiquated measure of a woman's value," I say, pleased with myself.
Suri is shaking her head, her horrified face the same color green as her polka-dotted blouse. "Lizzy, you don't know." She shakes her head some more. "You're wrong. It's not like that. Sex is intimate, it should be done with a lover or a boyfriend or at least a really good friend."
Someone like Cross, I think, and really wish I hadn't.
"It's not just physical. It gets into your head. I know we're not the same, Lizzy, but I have trouble believing you'd be happy if you just...sold it to some random man." Her nose wrinkles. "What if they're ugly or old or they want to Fifty Shades you?"
All I can think about is Hunter as I try to mold my face into something reassuring.
"They can't be a criminal," I tell her. Richard told me that much. "I can even decline them if I want and choose another bidder. And if we leave the premises, I'll have the option of taking along a team of guards."
"So they're...what, renting you? For a night? For a few hours?" Suri's face is grave. "Lizzy, if this is about money, if it's about Cross, and after what you did today I know it is—"
"But it's not," I interject. I'm waving my arms now, my heart beating fast as it becomes clear to me how much Suri's opinion matters in this. I don't want her to see me any differently. I don't want her pity. I want her support.
I think, not for the first time, how ridiculous it is that someone taking charge of their sexual assets, someone like me who's making money off them, is looked down upon. I can't wait to write about this.
"It's not about money, not all the way. It's about me doing something interesting, doing something that I want. I see it the opposite of how you do. I'm tired of waiting for the right guy. As you’ve known for years now, he doesn’t exist.” She opens her mouth, I’m sure to say something like ‘You could meet him tomorrow,’ so I beat her to the point. “I don't even think if I'd want to lose it to a boyfriend, to be a virgin when he's not. A twenty-three-year-old virgin." I make a face. "I want to go ahead and experience this, put it behind me. And if I can make half a million dollars in the process, what's wrong with that? In fact..."
I trail off, because Suri's mouth is hanging open. "Did you say half a million dollars?"
"Maybe," I say, like it doesn't matter.
Suspicion stretches her features as she stands up, grabbing for a napkin on the counter and using it to dab her mouth. She lowers the napkin and frowns. "So this is about Cross."
"It's about me," I say.
"So you're not planning to give the money to Cross?"
I open my mouth, then close it, not sure what to say. Suri’s eyes narrow to slits. "I saw the news today, Lizzy DeVille. I'm your BFF, not a moron. Remember, I have money. I can help. I'm Cross's friend, too. In fact, I think it would be a travesty if you went out selling...selling yourself, when I'm right here and perfectly willing to help Cross."
"You just bought a huge house, Sur. Listen to me," I say, catching her hand in mine. I press our joined hands on top of the stylish flowered table mats, which coordinate perfectly with the green gingham table cloth beneath them. "Have I ever done anything I regretted, other than what happened that night with Cross? Have I ever made a really big, bad, stupid choice, one I ended up hating myself for?"
"There's a first time for everything," she says. “I have money, and I want to use it to help Cross. You need to let me, and you need to forget this craziness.”
I shake my head. "This is something I want to do. It'll be an experience. And as for money, this was my idea. If you had extra money to throw around, I have no doubt you would have the second that you heard about him getting moved. You can chip in if you want, but I'm doing this, too," I say vehemently. “You might not understand, because you've had sex. You've done it. I'm just...waiting. Like...I don't know...a dairy product outside the refrigerator.”
Suri screws her face up, then lets out a little hoot. “Did you just compare yourself to a dairy product and take the extremely anti-feminist stance that you are somehow spoiling?”
“No! All I'm saying is it's bugging me. That I haven't done it. I feel like...the suspense is just getting to me. I'd like to have it done.”
"What about...opinions?" she asks quietly.
I squeeze her hand and let it go. "I'll be using another name, and my face will be shadowed the night of bidding. When they advertise me, it'll just be my body on billboards or whatever. No one will know."
