16. Call Me an Amenity – Mar
CHAPTER 16
CALL ME AN AMENITY
MAR
Did I really do what I think I did? There is no way I participated in a three-way masturbation. That isn’t even a thing, I don’t think. Ruin left right afterward, and I headed home not too long after him.
I thought I would feel different after. I thought I would feel nasty or dirty, but I don’t. I don’t know how I feel, but it isn’t disappointment in myself.
It’s been a couple of days, and I am aware that what we did is extremely unconventional, but I find myself daydreaming of doing it again.
His curiosity about risky sexual experiences makes so much more sense now. He was trying to gauge what I might be willing to participate in.
I haven’t heard from Sihn, so he may be in a different headspace about our situation now. I want to ask him if he feels we went too far, but I don’t want to be the first to reach out.
I think I’m already giving mixed signals and that’s because I don’t know what I want.
My brain tells me we can’t continue to be anything long-term because we’ve crossed so many boundaries. I’m afraid that crossing the boundary with his best friend might have been too much. I don’t want to come in between a friendship that has lasted years. Even though I’ve known Ruin since back when he was still Chad—he doesn’t even seem like the Chad I knew from my childhood anymore. What happens next time we’re around each other? It’s bound to be awkward.
I will not be talking to anyone else about my situation because it’s no one else’s business but ours, so I know I’ll have to speak to him. Most girls would confide in a girlfriend in this situation, but my one and only close friend wouldn’t ever be caught up in a scandal like this, and since she can’t relate, I won’t tell her.
I do not want to call it off, but there is no way we could ever be in love—not after what we all did. I’m already halfway to thirty, I feel like I need to be looking for Mister long-term and not Mister right now.
I hate that a part of me wants to do it again, to see how much further we could take it.
To distract myself from my thoughts, I log in to my online classroom and see how many students have completed this week’s work.
This week’s discussion question was: Do Americans from different time periods see American identity differently?
Students also have two weeks to read Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli and give a brief essay on how they feel American identity is created.
Next week’s discussion topic is: Describe the meaning of exposition and dialogue and how it adds variety to reading.
Surprisingly, one student has completed all the work that has been assigned, and only two students haven’t answered this week’s discussion question. Not bad. While teaching in the classroom, I barely got half the class to complete their work on time. Maybe this online teaching thing will be enough. It doesn’t seem fulfilling, though.
When I finish my work, I head downstairs to see what Mom and Dad are up to on this Sunday evening. Dad is sitting in the chair closest to the television with the volume up as high as it will go. I have encouraged him to use subtitles but he hasn’t been receptive. Mom is standing behind the couch with a drink in hand, sipping it.
“Y’all never take me to dinner anymore. Remember when I was a kid and every Sunday night we went to that dairy bar. Where was that? Is it even still open?” I ask.
“That was in Brush Creek, and it’s no longer operational. Shut down five years ago now,” Dad states.
I sit in front of Mom on the couch and look at her over my shoulder. “Well, how about y’all take me to a different ice cream shop?”
“Amarynth, you know we’d love to get ice cream with you, but we’re leaving early in the morning, so we’re heading to bed soon.”
I peek at the clock on the wall, it’s only a little after seven. I don’t remember them saying anything about going out of town before tonight. “Where are you guys going?”
“We’re about out of Columbia coffee beans at the shop and nowhere in town sells them. Nowhere close, actually. Our former supplier has gone out of business suddenly, so we are flying to Florida to buy some beans and then we’re going to get a rental car to bring them back home. We’ll be home in two weeks.”
“You make it sound like you’re going to be smuggling some coffee beans back to Ohio. It’s funny, but two weeks? What about the shop?”
“Well, Verdi has agreed to make sure everything keeps going, and we had hoped you would help her out in our absence.”
“Of course, I’ll help.”
Dad chimes in, “If you want ice cream, you’re an adult, go get some ice cream.”
He’s not wrong, but ice cream alone sounds sad and depressing. I’d go for a drive, but I hate driving. Maybe I’ll go for a walk.
It’s not until I’m about half a mile down the road that I notice I left my phone at the house. Oh well. I plan to go to the graveyard and look at some of the tombstones. I faintly remember one from back in my high school days, and I wonder if I’ll be able to read anything on them.
I round a corner and come face to face with a pack of goats. I count three lying in the middle of the road and eight more eating grass. I walk through the ones lying on the ground. Only one gets up and moves, and the other two act as if I am no bother to them and they have no care in the world to vehicles that may come past.
I tell them, “You guys should stick to the grass and stay off the road if you care to live.” Like they even know what the hell I’m saying at all.
The bridge Sihn jumped from is coming up in the distance. A few teenagers are jumping from it now. I watch as one girl gets up on the guardrail and immediately jumps back onto the paved road. A boy is standing beside her who says, “We can jump together. Or I can go first. I won’t let you drown.” It’s cute and charming, but if she can’t swim, it’s likely not in her best interest to jump. Or even if she’s just frightened. I know I can’t swim and would also be too scared.
The boy makes eye contact as I walk past them on the opposite side of the road, I smile and walk with intent toward the graveyard on the other end of the bridge.
From behind me, I hear the boy call, “Hey! Hey, lady.”
I am far too young for kids to be referring to me as, Lady. Ew. I continue on my pursuit and ignore them.
There are only five rock steps up to the graves. A rock no bigger than a piece of paper is almost so faded that I can barely read Falls Creek Cemetery on it. I never thought about it before, but River Falls used to be only Falls for a time.
Most of the stones inside the cemetery are so worn it’s hard to make out any dates or names. Moss has grown over most of them or they’ve cracked in places, leaving parts of the etching gone forever. I would think somewhere in town, there should be some history on who has been buried here. Either the city hall or the public library should have some information. I don’t know why I am so infatuated with this tiny patch of earth.
In the middle is a small monument. I sit with my back resting against it and watch the kids across the way.
In the back of my mind, I was hoping I’d run into Sihn and be able to talk to him and act like it was some sort of random happening even though I wished it to happen.