John had already conferred with Monica about Gibson's disappearance. She didn't want to make a scene and get the entire village wrapped up into it, but she knew he would be unable to just let Gibson wander back, and she felt a nugget of fear in her own heart, pressing against her lungs, making her hands shake. It was agreed that John would start to look for him, if he could slip away from the crowd, and she would stay to dance.
Gibson knew he was coming, and it would only be a matter of time before he tracked him down, and the longer it took to do that, the madder he would be. He met John's eye a few houses later, and John jogged over to him. "Where have you been? Are you ok?"
"I'm fine."
"Where were you? What the hell were you thinking? Were you with that girl?"
Gibson shrugged.
"Don't you shrug this off. This is serious Gibson. Even if you knew she wasn't going to hurt you, she might have accidentally led you off to some place dangerous." He yelled a little more, but Gibson just tuned it out, his mind already having found Lourdes' and listening to every single embarrassing detail that she was sharing with her friends.
John grabbed hold of his shirt and began to pull him back to the party. "You have nothing to say for yourself?" he asked furiously.
When Monica saw them return, she immediately broke away from her dance partner, a 70-year-old toothless man, and ran to meet them. She knew it couldn't be good if John was manhandling him so, though he released him as soon as she got there. "What happened? Gibson, are you alright?" she asked, her hands pressing his hair back, trying to make eye contact with him. "Did she hurt you?" His cheeks flushed bright red and she began to catch on. "I'll talk to him, John," she said, embracing him to calm his nerves. "Go dance some more."
"We should leave."
"Let's not make a bigger scene than has already occurred. They'll forget in a few minutes. And there's no need to get the girl in trouble too."
"The girl?" She watched as his brain clicked, leaving a look of utter disbelief on his face. "Oh god, did you...?" he started to ask Gibson.
"John," replied Monica with a little more force. "I've got it."
She took Gibson back with her onto the dance floor, unconsciously gripping his hands extra tight.
Did you have sex with her?
He refused to look up.
"Oh, Gibson, sweetie," she said, touching his face again. He furrowed his brow angrily and pulled his face away.
Did you use a condom?
This was the first time he thought of one. He hadn't had much in the way of sex ed growing up they way he did, and had never had any of it drilled into his head over and over again. When he didn't answer, she took that to mean he did not. There was nowhere for him to get one, he never had a moment to himself to go buy one, and she highly doubted anyone out here had access to them either.
What happens if she gets pregnant? We can't stay. We won't know. You won't be able to help her. And out here, she can't just go get an abortion. Her family might chose to ostracize her and she would be left on her own. Don't you realize what could happen to her?
She'll just have to marry Pedro, he thought to himself, trying to not feel worried. Pregnancy hadn't crossed his mind either. Nothing had crossed his mind but having sex.
Monica looked at Lourdes who was still giggling with her friends. She was a short, somewhat plump girl with a moon-shaped face and flat dull features, probably about Gibson's age. Monica guessed that it wasn't the girl's first time by a long shot.
She could have diseases, Gibson. Her mind began to tick them off, with disgusting images and descriptions of complications. AIDS, Chlamydia, gonorrhea, syphilis, genital warts, and herpes. He definitely didn't think of all that.
"I'm tired," he said, and he was. His face was pale and covered with a thin layer of sweat, so she took him to the side and sat with him, turning down more offers to dance, for she'd already danced with everyone at least twice.
"We'll leave soon," she said. And sure enough they did, after saying their goodbyes and thanks to everyone. The party continued on as they drove away.
John was tight-lipped, not sure what to say. He wanted to chastise the boy for leaving, but he definitely didn't want to discuss what he'd gone off to do. Gibson leaned against the door and looked out the window. Monica tried to lighten the situation by laughing over the humorous moments of the party, sometimes getting a response out of John. She slipped in a few more lectures to Gibson, reminding him that John needed to protect him, and showing him glimpses of the man he'd been fifteen years earlier, his own son kidnapped. Don't make him relive that. Understand that he is just trying to keep you safe. He was scared, that's all. She begged him to apologize.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, still looking out the window. "I shouldn't have left."
"No, you shouldn't," said John, speaking to him finally. "You shouldn't have gone off with that girl, period. That was a bone-headed, stupid thing to do."
"John, he apologized. He's had a rough afternoon and he doesn't feel well. Let's drop it, ok?" She took his hand and squeezed it. "Don't let a few scary minutes this evening erase all the good of today."
He grinned at her. "We got married today, didn't we?"
"Yes, we did."
"Best damn day of my life."
At the hotel, Monica followed Gibson into his room, after waving off John again.
"I want to be alone," said Gibson.
"You know I'm not mad."
"It's not that. I just want to be alone."
She sat down on the bed next to him and felt a wave of sympathy. "Was it bad? Was she mean to you?"
"I really don't want to talk about it."
"Very few people have a good first time."
"I know. Trust me, I know. It… it doesn't make it any easier when it's actually happened to me though."
"I wish you would have waited, though, but I understand that our circumstances don't really allow you to get to know anyone long enough to have a relationship with them. It's not emotionally healthy for you to live like this. And I realize that you're a teenage boy, a normal teenage boy in most respects. And you've got the added pressure of having to hear everyone's thoughts. It can't be easy. I know you've put up with a lot just from John and me."
He raised his eyebrows as though that were an understatement and Monica laughed.
"You have to deal with us, and we have to deal with the fact that you know everything about us. It's not an easy situation for any of us, but I think we've done a good job so far. Will you promise me something?" she asked.
He nodded, even though he already knew what she was going to say.
"If you get into that situation again, and you aren't strong enough to walk away from it, use a condom. I will turn my back the next time we're in a pharmacy and you can buy them if you see fit. Just don't ever, ever do what you did today. It's bad for you, and it's bad for her. If you think you're mature enough to have sex, then you need to make mature decisions. Got it?" She stared him down until he croaked out a feeble "Yes, ma'am."
"And if you can, just tell us that you need to be alone or something. We can even think of some sort of code, just between the two of us. I think it will be a while before John comes around."
"But enough of that," she continued. "I wanted to let you know how happy I am that you could be a part of my wedding. Being a witness is a big deal. And the lazo," she said, referring to the cord she still had slung over her shoulder, "I'm glad it was you and not that old lady who put it on us."
"She was mad that I did that. But I didn't care. I figured you'd prefer me over her."
"Of course."
A few moments of silence passed.
"You should go," Gibson said. "John's waiting for you."
"I know." She wrapped her arms around him for a long time. Her mind was full of Don't grow up so fast and I don't want you to get hurt and even a few I love yous that she didn't feel were appropriate for her to say to a boy who wasn't truly her son. Gibson didn't want her to let go.
Back in her own room, she found John flipping through a magazine, which he tossed aside upon her entrance.
"Did you talk to him?" he asked.
"Mmhm."
The conversation didn't go any further, for she was already in his arms, his lips on hers, her hands on his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt.
"You look so beautiful."
"Even after hours of dancing?"
"Monica, you look beautiful even after we've been hiding in the woods for three weeks without showers or much in the way of sleep. I'm a little biased, though, you know."
"Yeah, I've noticed," she said, grinning. "Luckily for you, I have the same kind of bias in your direction."
He pulled her towards the bed and sat there looking up at her, with her hands in his. "How does it feel to be Mrs. Doggett?" he asked, looking a little proud of himself.
She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. "That's Barbara's name. I was thinking Mrs. Reyes-Doggett."
He laughed at her. "Ok, then, how does it feel to be Mrs. Reyes-Doggett?"
"Somewhere between a dream come true and it's about damn time."
"Is that all?" he asked, slipping his hands underneath her shirt.
She shivered. "I feel like we should go to bed right now and consummate this marriage."
He responded by pushing up her shirt and kissing her belly. His fingers slid around the waist of her skirt until they found a button, which was soon undone, leaving her skirt to fall to the ground. She sat on his lap and kissed him harder and faster, her fingers wandering up and down his back and sides. He was growing hard beneath her.
The wedding shirt came off and he pushed the cups of her bra down, touching her nipples gently with his thumbs before taking them in his mouth and teasing them with his lips and teeth. She could only take a few minutes of this before she had to discard her bra to the same pile as the rest of her clothes and spread out on the bed. John's clothes were soon added and he returned to the bed, kissing the inside of her thighs until she moaned. Finally, her panties disappeared too.