6. Ani #2
“I tried to guess your clothing size, but I didn’t really know,” he says, still digging through the last bag. “And I had help from a very judgmental teenager at the thrift store who said I was ‘chaotically unprepared,’ so, if I bought the wrong size, take it up with her.”
I reach for one of the shirts, still folded, the tag peeking out. The fabric is incredibly soft. It’s not the curated designer-only wardrobe I’m used to. It’s practical, comfortable. And I like it.
“This is...really kind,” I manage, my voice catching.
Finn waves me off. “It’s basic survival. You need underwear, you get underwear. You need toothpaste, boom—minty freshness delivered. You need...” He trails off, rummaging through the last bag with too much enthusiasm, “...a tiny, discreet, safe way to discover your own pleasure—voilà!”
He pulls something out and tosses it on the bed.
It bounces once and lands near my knee.
And I stare at it.
I know what it is. It takes me a second, but I know: silicone, smooth, curved, pink.
A dildo. It’s a dildo.
I make a strangled sound and shoot backward, blanket tangled around my legs. The dildo hits the floor with a dull flop.
Finn raises both hands like he’s surrendering. “Okay, not the reaction I expected, but fair.”
“Why is that—why would you—” I can’t find the sentence.
He picks it up with one hand and holds it delicately between two fingers, utterly unfazed. “You said you’d never...you know. And you seemed upset about that.”
“I didn’t say it for you to fix it.”
“I’m not trying to fix anything. Just giving you options.”
My face is on fire. I cover it with both hands. “I cannot believe I said that. And now you’ve bought me a...a?—”
“Personal exploration tool,” he offers helpfully.
“Finn.”
He grins. “You remembered my name.”
“Finn, I cannot accept this.”
“Why not?”
“It’s...inappropriate.”
“For who?” he asks, settling on the edge of the bed, leaving a careful distance between us. “You’re an adult. You’re in a safe place. You get to figure out what you like, what you want, and how you want to feel in your own body. There’s nothing shameful about that.”
I don’t answer.
He doesn’t fill the silence. He just waits, giving me the same space he gave me on the porch. When he sees I’m still too overwhelmed, he breaks the silence for me.
“You don’t have to use it,” he says finally. “You can toss it, hide it, bury it in the woods. I’m not checking in. It’s yours, or not. But I wanted you to have the choice.”
That word again.
“In fact, you have plenty of choices. I may have gone a little overboard.”
He reaches for one of the bags on the floor, the black plastic rustling in his hand. Then he passes it to me.
It’s heavier than I expected. I open it, already bracing myself.
Inside, there’s a box that reads Rechargeable . Beneath that, something shaped like a ring with a button, another with a curve, packaging with pastel illustrations, one with a warning label in small print, satin drawstring pouches, batteries, and something that looks like a remote.
I drop the bag onto the bed like it burned me.
“Oh my god.”
Finn winces, though I can’t tell if he’s holding back a laugh or just trying not to be smug about it. “To be fair, I did ask the woman at the store for help. She was incredibly enthusiastic. Might’ve offered a full demonstration if I hadn’t cut her off.”
My voice finds its way through the shock. “You told her it was for me?”
“Well, I didn’t say it was for me .”
“Oh my god.”
“I didn’t say your name, not that she’d know who you are anyway,” he says, hands lifted. “I said it was for a friend who’d never had a...moment.”
“A moment ?”
“You know what I meant.”
I press both palms to my face, unsure whether I want to scream or laugh or ask him to please take the entire bag and throw it into the nearest trashcan.
He picks the pink dildo he tossed at me up off his lap, turning it over in his hand. “This one might be a little advanced. I didn’t really think this through.”
I get it now. He doesn’t think I’m unhinged because he is completely unhinged.
I look at him, holding that stupid pink thing in one hand, and for some reason, that’s what does it. I start to laugh. Not loudly, not for long, but enough to knock the edge off the panic still inhabiting my body.
He doesn’t laugh back, just smiles.
“You’re kind of crazy,” I say.
“Takes one to know one.” He shrugs. “Look, it’s all up to you. I just figured...when you said what you said on the porch, it didn’t sound like you were embarrassed about never having one. It sounded like you weren’t allowed to want one.”
I pull my hands from my face. I blink at him in stunned silence.
He shrugs again. “You get to want things now.”
I don’t respond. Not because I disagree, but because the thought is too much to tackle all at once. So I stare at the bag instead, still sitting there with its pink and white boxes peeking out from the top, taunting me.
“I’m going to bury this in the backyard,” I say.
“I’ll help you dig the hole.”
“Finn.”
“Yes?”
“Go.”
“Just say thank you and pretend I’m a very generous fairy godmother with bad boundaries.”
“I’m never saying that.”
“You already did. In your heart.”
He stands, gathers the empty plastic bags back into his arms, and starts toward the door. He pauses just before stepping out.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, glancing back at me, “I think you’re braver than you know.”
And then he disappears down the hall, leaving me in a quiet room with clean clothes, a toothbrush, and a silicone penis on the bed.
This is not how I thought today would go. Not even close.