I think it's a great pity I had to be up early for work today. I really wanted to give my daughter a good ribbing for what we all know happened last night. She thinks we were loud that morning… well, we can talk now at least. She's sitting at the far end of the couch, just barely managing to keep her blush under control. I'm not saying anything. She's waiting for me to make a move, and the tension is electric. I really shouldn't be such a tease.
"Now, I don't know who it was, but might I recommend a pillow to scream into next time?"
"I… well… she's just… mom, I can't talk about this, okay?"
"I did say not to do anything you'd be embarrassed to tell me."
"I… well… it's private, right?"
"Yes, it is, so you don't have to tell me. I'm not asking for details, but it's going to be pretty hard to deny what happened." I give her a devious wink, then I soften my tone. "But you remember when we had the talk?"
"Umm… do I have to?"
"Look, that was awkward for both of us, okay," I look away, out the window. It's raining. "I'd only recently discovered you liked girls, so that kinda torpedoed what I had planned to say."
"You had a plan?" Okay, ow. And why are you agreeing with her? No fair teaming up against me.
"Yes, I had a plan. Had."
"Okay, so is there a point to this, mom?" I wish she didn't sound so defensive—well, my mild disapproval and teasing are probably not helping matters.
"There is. You remember the point I tried to make about emotional maturity in relationships."
"Yeah…" she's doing the finger thing again. Her eyes light up as she makes the connection. "Oh, you think maybe me or Tink just wasn't ready for it—because I gotta tell you, we didn't rush anything."
"Not that I asked for details," I roll my eyes. "But that's not what I meant—well, not completely, because I still think you've both got some growing up to do. Look, I'm sure you both respected the boundaries, and had fun, yes, but I'm not talking about the act itself. I think you might be rushing the relationship as a whole. Now, you may not believe this, but I was once a horny teenager too—hey, don't give me that look, you two were so obvious at dinner last night—and I get the feeling simple teenage lust had as much to do with your decision yesterday as your desire to show your commitment to each other."
Joan is suddenly quietly, but behind her eyes I can see her mind working furiously, trying to see this from other angles—even mine. And while she's silent, my mind wanders. My daughter is no longer a virgin. To her, at this point, it probably feels great. I know my first time did. Now for some reason that vague unease from yesterday is back. I can't quite put it into words, but I know it's important. I know it has something to do with her relationship with Tina moving that much further. Something to do with her having knowledge that I cannot be privy to. That it might be the first step in… what…? I can feel a tear rolling down my cheek. I feel it as she wipes it away, concern heavy in her voice.
"Mom, are you okay?"
I nod slowly, and give her a wry smile. "You're growing up, and I can only tease you about it."
"You got that right, super-mom." Oh, there's the sass. It feels good.
"Hey, I think I resemble that remark," I have to respond in kind. She laughs. "But I shouldn't be teasing you so much or trying to bawl you out. I should be supporting you. So, new plan—if you're not too embarrassed to ask your mom for advice; and you can ask literally anything here, I'll try not to judge: Is there anything you'd like to know?"
"Well…" her blush would probably be visible from orbit at this point. "It felt kinda slow—like, not like we had to rush, but, well, it took a lot longer than we thought."
I have to stop myself from saying the first thing that comes to mind. She's only fifteen after all, and would not appreciate the joke. I have to just shake my head. "Don't worry, that's normal—at least, most of the time. Think about how many times you've done it versus how many times Tina's done it to you."
"Oh, um… yeah, that does make sense," she giggles, and now she seems a lot less embarrassed. Okay, so I still think she might be a bit young, but I'm hoping this means she'll be open and honest in the future. She's also very quiet now—waiting. Which means I wasn't paying attention to something. Oops. She prods me with an elbow. "Kissing."
"Well, it's up to you, really. Some people get really into it, and some people like to concentrate on other things."
"I actually meant kissing other things."
"Done right, kissing almost anywhere can be—"
"Okay, I get the idea," she's screwing up her face as she looks at me. Clearly I've struck a nerve. "I still think it's weird. And it tickled, but I guess that's normal. And, umm, teeth?"
Now I'm forever going to wonder about several things. Serves me right for zoning out. I answer her half-question. "If either of you is going to use your teeth, be gentle, and be careful."
Suddenly her blush is back. I promised Kristoff I wouldn't pry—but if she volunteers any information, I will respond. Hopefully in an appropriate manner. Sadly, she doesn't elaborate. Instead, she lapses into thoughtful silence. I can tell something is bugging her, but I don't want to pry—Okay, fine, I do want to, but I've been told not to. Maybe just a gentle nudge.
"Anything else?" It's innocent enough.
"Well, there is one thing…" I hold my tongue. She's not quite sure whether to tell me. Maybe she thinks I'll tease her about it? Yes, I know I'm terrible sometimes.
The silence continues.
"Is it normal to fall asleep like right afterwards," she's looking at me, almost hopelessly confused. Surely we covered this somewhere. "'cause Tink says I crashed pretty hard."
Ah, well, of course, with only two points of reference you don't know which one is right. No baseline. I pat her on the shoulder. "You get that from Elsa. Okay, sure she had stamina dur—"
"Mom!"
"Okay, fine. That's probably enough parental embarrassment for one day anyway."
"You and dad are gonna make me regret telling you about the sleepover, aren't you?" I'll be honest here, it will almost entirely be me—but I will at least try to restrain myself.
"I could always tell you about me and Elsa's first time and you could tea—" Well, okay then. But I kind of expected that. "Okay, but suffice to say it gave her ammo against me for months to come. Hey, ow—I didn't mean it like that; get your mind out of the gutter."
"You started it." Yup, I did. Another wry smile. Well, I can try and defuse it.
"Maybe we should just end that discussion. You're happy, Tina's happy; I'm not really happy, but I can live with it, and your dad would never even try to have this kind of discussion with you."
"Yeah," Joan laughs with me. "So, what now?"
"Now I tell you some more about Elsa."
—∞—
Elsa was out, dance rehearsal on Friday morning. I slept in, having swapped my regular shift for Saturday, because Kristoff needed help with an install on the weekend. Audrey got the short straw of working Sunday. Work concerns were pretty far from my mind that morning. In fact, I had decided to clean the attic some more, and the spare room. And my room—especially my room—which once again looked like a bomb had been set off in a wardrobe. Seeing how organised Elsa was actually made me a little jealous. She was a practical person. I was lazy, and absent minded.
The attic, at least, was mostly organised thanks to our efforts the other day. It didn't take much to drag a few old boxes into the living room. It wasn't long until lunch—I'd slept in a little later than I planned—but I decided I'd rather keep working. It was about time to change my bed too. Elsa would have asked what I was going to change it into. I missed her laugh, I'd heard it so infrequently the past two weeks. Her smile too. The other night—Tuesday? Wednesday?—when I'd fallen asleep to her heartbeat had helped, but I still didn't feel as balanced as I used to. It was an almost physical need to have her around.
On a whim, I took my mattress right out, giving it a good beating to get the dust out of it. I let it fall quite deliberately down the stairs. Well, that gave me an idea—I went back to my room and fetched a pair of my heavy work socks and then rolled up the rug in the upstairs hallway. It was just… fun… skating down the hallway to bounce off the mattress. Maybe not particularly safe—I knew my butt was gonna bruise after that last one—but fun. I sighed, shouldering past my mattress to head downstairs and retrieve the vacuum cleaner.
I glanced at the clock in the living room as I went past—well past lunchtime. I decided I'd eat first, then clean. I would also make something for Elsa; I knew she couldn't be far away. I looked down, standing at the bench. It felt like iron bands were crushing my chest. I just stood there, my mind racing, feeling as if I'd been stabbed again. I was down on all fours, breathing heavily. I remembered lying there, my shirt all sticky with blood, my nose broken, and my limbs feeling like lead weights. I was scared. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself.
It took a few minutes, but I was able to stand, looking down at the red tide marks on the floor. I suddenly hated them with a vengeance, but all that really told me was that I hadn't properly come to terms with what I'd done—or what had been done to me. Later, I knew, I would have to tell Elsa. She might chew me out for not dealing with it sooner, but she would be supportive. In a lot of ways she was much stronger than me. Or maybe just more stubborn. But I liked to think it was strength.
Lunch was eventually made—toasted sandwiches with bacon—and TV was watched, but Elsa hadn't come home by the time I was finished. With an offhand shrug I started to clean up, then grabbed the vacuum and headed back upstairs. The hallway was easy. My room… well, that still needed more tidying. At least the laundry had been separated into piles for clean and dirty. Thinking of dirty laundry I made my way into Elsa's room. She actually had her own laundry basket. Then I saw my mattress out of the corner of my eye, all lonely on the landing. Surely she'd forgive for me one little mess, right?
Of course it didn't go to plan. I hit my mattress, my feet hit the edge of hers—on the first step—and then I was in the middle of a mattress sandwich. It was still fun. I tried again, skating down the hall in my socks, tumbling down her mattress and into mine. So my mattress squashed me that time. I couldn't help the laughter. I knew exactly how I would ambush my girlfriend when she finally got home. It would be her just desserts for being so late.
Propping the mattresses back up, I returned to my room. Vacuuming didn't take long, and a quick dust—or swiping my hands across the tops of drawers and cupboards—followed by an attempt to sort clean laundry into appropriate drawers saw half an hour disappear. It also let me hear a car—or more likely a taxi—pull up out front. I couldn't see the front path from my room, so I just waited for the telltale metallic scratching of the key in the lock. That I only heard it because I was leaning over the top railing of the stairs is beside the point.
"Anna?" I shuffled quickly to the far end of the hallway. "Anna, are you home?"
"Upstairs!" And with that I was off, hoping I had my timing right.
"Why is there a mattr—whoa—oof." Maybe winding her wasn't the right idea. We tumbled down her mattress, and caromed off mine, which began to flex disconcertingly. I turned my head aside, tangling our hair, and then it hit us. Whump—sprong. I could see the anger in her eyes, and the confusion. It figured that ambushing her right after she walked in the door was not the greatest of my ideas. I prised the mattresses apart, setting mine against the wall again.
"Sorry. But I just… it was fun, bouncing off everything."
I guess she saw the smile I was trying to hide. "Why is it your idea of fun always involves hitting something; or the risk of great personal harm?"
"Adrenaline junkie?" I tried. "You've seen my bike, after all."
"No, it is more than that. You are not like this with everyone else."
"Who is this everyone else?" I looked around, half-mocking her. "Should I meet her?"
"Anna."
"Are you telling me you didn't like bouncing off the padded walls?"
Now watching her expression there was fun. Intriguing. With me, at least, she was a lot more open. I could see confusion, exasperation, hope, and focus. I could also see the devious smile forming at the corner of her lips. Not a good sign. Her next question caught me off guard.
"Hey, Anna, how much do you think I weigh?"
And before I could answer she'd given my mattress a good whack. I spat out a mouthful of dust. Then I learned the hard way that she weighed more than I thought—using both mattresses to climb the stairs, with me still in them. When she reached her door I'd finally managed to worm my way out from between them.
"Okay, so I probably deserved that."
"No probably about it," she closed the door on me. "Just let me change first."
She came back out a few minutes later wearing shorts and an old t-shirt. She ran straight at me and I barely had time to duck, sending her spilling past me and into the mattress against the wall. Upside down. She laughed, pushing herself off with a half-flip.
"Well played, Anniken."
"Come on," I climbed the mattress to the top of the stairs with her. She had good socks on, so when I gave her a gentle shove on the backside she slid somewhat gracefully down the hall. I bounced off a wall, then zipped to the far end like a skier. I could see she was dubious. I gave her a wide smile, then pulled her into a stumbling, sliding half-sprint, hair trailing out behind her in her customary braid. I hit the edge of the top step and stumbled, and still holding on, she fell with me. On top of me, actually. Right before we bounced off the other mattress. I heard her squeal in delight as it smacked down on top of us.
She'd probably never say it, but this was what she needed. Something where she could just be stupid, and free, and not have to care about anything. I watched as she did a handspring between the mattresses, flicking herself to the top of the stairs. From where I was lying I could see up her shirt as she flipped—and also that she wasn't wearing a bra. I liked what I saw.
"Less ogling, more bouncing." I think my blush gave it away.
Then we were just bouncing around the hall, spinning and skating in our socks. It was easier than dancing. Occasionally we would 'accidentally' stumble down the stairs, or push each other over, or contrive some other way to get ourselves sandwiched by the mattresses. Still stuck between the mattresses, panting with exertion, there was a sudden silence. I leaned in for a kiss. Elsa sneezed, blasting our flyaway hair all over the place. I couldn't help the laughter.
It was a good afternoon. In the end, I didn't tell her about my flashback. Not until later. We were just having too much fun.
