Chapter 23 #2
I was trapped somewhere between the little girl I’d been and the woman I’d eventually become.
“What does that have to do with us?” Jaw ticking, he sends another apple hurtling toward the tree. His fists are balled at his sides like he’s concentrating on not touching me or hitting something.
With a deep breath, I focus on the toes of my combat boots.
“The Jewish community is small but visible, so this feels a bit like betraying family, but okay.” I exhale another shaky breath.
“The type of summer camp I attended was pretty secular, but the leaders still initiated lots of intense conversations with us about culture. Or, I guess, in America it’s seen as religion.
Anyhow, the biggest talking points were that we should date, marry, and someday have babies with a Jewish partner.
There was so much pressure around dating, and we were American teens.
So, all the typical ‘he’s a stud, she’s a slut’ things were there too. ”
My shoulders droop. I don’t think I’m explaining this well.
“Do you watch documentaries at all?”
“Sure. I watch ones like The Industries that Built this Nation . That kind of thing. They’re pretty dope.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “Did you know that ketchup exists because people used to eat meat that was practically rancid?”
“Gross. Also gross: purity culture. Your mom took you and Stef to church, so you know what I’m talking about, right? Where we’re taught that girls have to be virgins until they get married and then they have to magically be sexually liberated performance artists for their one true love?”
His eyes widen. “Well, yeah. But that’s, like, the church. This was different. You said it was a Jewish camp.”
“It was inescapable in America. Didn’t matter whether it was from a church or not. Like, obviously, as a Catholic, you’ve heard stories about priests who did terrible things. But other groups had horrible leaders too.” I swallow thickly, feeling the heat pricking behind my eyes.
“My camp was one of them.” I shake but press forward. “The little brother of my good friend is my hero. He’s a rabbi; their older brother is a lawyer.
“The younger brother, the one who’s now a rabbi, was a victim as a teen, and lawyer brother was, as you can probably guess, his lawyer.
He was one of multiple John Does in an FBI case.
He was brave as hell. They went public in an op-ed to encourage others to speak up before the clock ran out on the statute of limitations.
There have been other articles about our camp too, but this was the closest to me personally. ”
I throw my head back and let out a sardonic laugh. I swallow thickly and prick at the backs of my eyes as I recall the day my phone blew up with the link over and over.
“The thing is, everyone wants to have former-slut and current Doctor Masturbate help them process their emotions. They forget that I chose to call my podcast Flicking the Bean with Rabin to take back another shitty joke from that era.” The words come faster now, and I just let it all fly.
Despite the tears, my chest fills with pride at all I’ve built.
I continue to stare at the ground, but I can feel Mateo’s eyes on me.
I let it all spill out. Every story I’ve been holding in.
Story after story people have brought to me.
The weight I’ve been carrying laid before his strong arms; I give every friend, acquaintance, and patient my full undivided attention. Every. Time.
He lets me monologue through this.
“Back to where you and I are concerned,” I eventually say.
“I was miserable by the time I came home. My time at camp had always been the best part of the year. That year, though, it was not fun like it was supposed to be. And Shae heard whispers of it all. That fucking destroyed me. I was supposed to be looking out for her and Tal. Instead, I was setting them up to be considered trouble because their sister was.”
He laughs. He fucking laughs . “You are trouble, but it’s not like I’m one to talk. And so what? Don’t you have fun when you let that side out?”
I ignore the comment. I need to get the rest of this out. “So here I am, fourteen years old, excited to be out of this pressure cooker summer. I’m so happy to be home. I’m in your yard, where your folks are hosting a cookout like they always did. We’d been singing karaoke.”
“Classic Santos-Manolo event activity,” he adds.
I laugh, and the tension eases. Yeah, every party there included an impromptu talent show.
“This year, the entire basketball team was there with you. I brought my copy of Eclipse , excited to compare notes with Stef and Lily?—”
He grins. “Is this when the Team Jacob obsession began?”
I give a sly smile. “After that summer, it became impossible to not see the good in an underdog.” I blow out a breath. “Anyway, here I am. I’m home. I’m with my people, and all I want is to leave that undeserved reputation behind me.”
Deep breath , I coach myself.
“It wasn’t just your joke. It was that my whole summer had been one bad joke.
During our teenage years, girls are either virgins or whores.
That’s it. And your joke spiraled out of control.
Somehow after those jabs, a rumor began.
I’ve heard all the versions. The most extreme included giving four basketball players blowjobs in a line.
I was called a chicken head for my entire high school career.
I was a slut. I was a bad girl even though, at that point, I had only kissed one boy.
” Moisture pools in my eyes again. I hate this contradiction.
I hate that I speak about being empowered but am still restrained by judgment I received a lifetime ago. Not only a lifetime ago , the little voice digs.
“It never mattered what I did or didn’t do, or with whom.
I’m loud and willing to say outlandish things, which must mean I do them too.
Right?” My voice cracks. “I don’t judge what other people do.
Consenting adults should be free to do what they want.
But they’re also entitled to privacy, and given that I’ve only been with two—excuse me, three—men in my life, I don’t like being seen as some wild thing.
It makes me angry. Virginity is a myth. Whores were powerful women, so we took away their power, and…
I did what I do when something is hard for me to understand.
I studied it. I dove into understanding it all from every angle. ”
My anger mixes with all the other big feelings swirling, causing tears to flow hot and quiet down my face. In that moment, the restraint he’s been holding on to breaks, and he moves to me.
Between one breath and the next, I’m pressed against the rough bark of a tree, my fingers tracing knots in the wood to steady myself.
His large, soft, manicured hands reach my face with superhuman speed, his thumbs swiping away tears that refuse to recede.
His lips quirk up on one side. “That’s my Ivy Monster.”
I peer through my wet lashes, finding Mateo wearing a reverent expression, lips parted and breathing slow and steady. He’s my anchor in this storm.
“What happened next, gorgeous girl?”
“Boston,” I croak.
He wraps his arms around me, and I allow my body to go slack, supported by his warm strength.
“I went from being the inexperienced troublemaker to the good girl who was ‘wife material.’ My sorority and Satan’s fraternity kept us in each other’s orbit, and it just sort of happened from there.
I don’t know. It was awful to feel like I had to make myself smaller for him. That I had to hide myself.”
I look down, scoffing at my bust because it could never be considered small.
“I fit his image of the perfect WASP wife—despite being Jewish and my German and Middle Eastern backgrounds . Oh, and I did not come from the kind of money he did. The more I had to repress myself, the more I hated being with him. But I didn’t know how to move on.
I was stuck in a cycle. Even when things became toxic between us, I couldn’t walk away. ”
I force myself to breathe evenly. I can’t believe I am telling him all this. Even Delia hasn’t gotten this out of me.
“Like I said, I studied these things, yet I couldn’t prevent them in my own life.
Satan really believed the hype around my identity and oral sex skills too.
Some of my Jewish clients have told me the same.
Everyone has a different punch line. The punch isn’t what’s significant, but being punched in the back of the throat when you’re teary eyed and trying to say to slow down is. ”
There. I said it all. I exhale deeply, desperate to end the conversation.
His eyes meet mine, the dark brown molten with anger. “Excuse me?”
His hands make their way from my face to my shoulders as he hunches like he could take off and run or maybe throw a punch. I don’t know. I just know he’s not mad at me. This is sheer protectiveness.
“I need to know right now,” he says, his voice shaky. “Is this something that happened to you or a patient?”
I can only nod. The answer is both.
He steps back, as if checking to see if I need space. His gaze is intense, making it hard to look at him.
As I lower my focus to our feet, he gives a loose strand of hair a twirl, then brushes it behind my ear.
The distance between us is too much. I need to be back in the comfort of his arms. I wind my arms around his middle and pull him back to me. As we melt into one another, the weight of it all pushes me against the rough bark of the tree behind me.
“I’m so honored you told me all of this,” he murmurs softly at my ear. “My side of the story is not going to measure up, but if you want to know, I will tell you.”