Then he goes, and I stand with my back to the front door, and find myself smiling in the dark.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
CLARA JUNE
“Liar.”
I shake my head. “I am not lying.”
Jackie narrows her eyes on me, but shouts at Archie nearby. “Not in the bird fountain,” she scolds, knowing just what my son was about to do, without so much as a sidewaysglance.
“You should have kids.” I look over at Archie who is backing away from the bird fountain with an open bottle of bubbles in his hands. “That was impressive.”
She finishes off her glass of wine. “Don’t distract me with motherhood musings.” She reaches for the bottle, topping me off before refilling her glass. “Back to the mysterious case of the spontaneous orgasm and the broken box.”
I snort out a laugh as I sip the white wine. I don’t drink often, so a glass of wine with my best friend feels like a reward. Feels like how drinking should be. Unlike Troy, who thought that the top of every hour was worth celebrating with spirits.
“Broken box, thanks a lot.” Another long sip. “But it’s not broken after all, is it?”
She slips her oversized tortoise shell sunglasses over her eyes, and then slides them down the bridge of her nose to peer over them theatrically. “Coach fixed your pussy, is what you’re telling me?”
I shrug, and finish my glass, but wave my hand over the top to indicate I can’t have another. “You know what’s crazy?”
“Aside from you having a spontaneous, touchless orgasm?” she quips, dragging the green ceramic bowl full of mixed nuts toward her. She drops some cashews and salted almonds into her mouth, crunching them loudly while waiting for my response.
“Yes,” I smirk, still in utter shock and awe that I had an orgasm when Dean hugged me. Held me? Hug held? I don’t know how to classify that embrace, but I know for sure, I came so hard I almost fell over. “I was just telling him earlier that night that I wanted to take things slow, and I was mostly saying that because I haven’t been able to have an orgasm for so long, I was buying time.”
Jackie sips her wine, plucking only pistachios from the bowl of mixed nuts. In the background, Archie catches a butterfly, announcing it to us before accidentally letting it slip through his fingers.
“Buying time for what?” she asks, and I genuinely do not know the answer.
“I really don’t know. I guess I was thinking I’d spend as much time with him as I could until he realized I had—what did you call it?”
“A broken box,” she deadpans.
“A broken box,” I repeat, “at which point I guess I expected to be dumped and then I’d cling to all the memories of Dean McAllister, try to masturbate and go on serving club sandwiches to seniors in shoes that don’t fit for the rest of my life?”
“Oh mylanta,” Jackie whoops. “That’s… painfully introspective.”
I stare off into the yard, where lilies sway in the lulling breeze, and Archie flops onto his back in the lawn, letting the sun warm his face and bare feet. “I really thought I would never be able to orgasm again, Jackie. Jokes aside. I really thought I was broken.”
She drapes her hand over mine, infusing me with a quiet emotional support that only a best friend who has seen you pee on yourself while someone comes out of your vagina can do.
“I know, honey, but like I told you before, it scientifically just isn’t a thing. It was always in your head. Maybe you just needed the right guy to make you feel safe or… I don’t know, worthy?” She shakes her head, like the possibility of that even being remotely true makes her sick. But sick for me, not for her. “You’ve always been worthy of orgasms, for what it’s worth.”
“I know,” I reply, a partial truth. Have I always felt worthy? It’s hard to feel self-worth about my body and the way my body works as a woman when the man who promised to be with me forever left abruptly, leaving his boys behind, too. That innately instilled me with a feeling that I am a lesser woman than others. That I am missing the thing that makes a happy home forever.
That, somehow, I drove him away.
“It’s stupid. I know I didn’t drive Troy away. I know I should never have even married Troy. But still, something about being jilted with three kids… it chipped away at me in places I didn’t know how to rebuild. My self esteem was one of those things.” I shrug and sip my wine, afraid to meet Jackie’s eyes. But when she squeezes my hand, I turn, and face her.
Her widened eyes are full of softness, and her lips are curved into a knowing smile. “I know, and while I wish you would see yourself the way I do, I also understand you. I get that it doesn’t work like that.” She rolls her lips together, still peering at me over the top of her sunnies. “But, if it took finding a man who makes you feel good again to come into your own, so be it. Just know, you were never the problem. Your box didn’t wanna give you the big O until you came to realize it.” She slides her shades back on, tossing a pistachio in her mouth. “Smart box.”
“Mama, you said we were gonna get ice cream. Can we go get ice cream? I want ice cream!” Archie says, blowing bubbles above him as he lies on his back in the sun.
“Yeah, baby, in a few minutes.” I look back at my friend. “Feel like getting ice cream with us?” Her laptop is out here with us, but it’s off and closed, and her phone is face down on the table. That’s as off-the-clock as Jackie gets.
