Magda #2
“Oh!”
I breathed as I pulled the slim box out, a squeak inelegantly passing my lips. I stared in delight at the new keyboard, the graphics on it showing the custom keys, which had all been painted to look like pixelated magical creatures, dragons, fairies, and tiny castles. I’d been eyeballing this keyboard for months , drooling over it every day as I continued to slave away on my old one, which had two broken keys and practically all the letters rubbed off on most of the board. If I didn’t know what each button was by touch, I would have been completely screwed.
“Danny,”
I exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his neck in a hug, “you shouldn’t have!”
Now he was blushing as I sat down and marveled over the many customizable features—including LED lights that nearly made me swoon. He rubbed his neck.
“I just figured you’d been staring at it for so long, and plus we both know you need a new one pretty badly…”
I laughed, then reached over and placed a hand on his. “True. Thank you.”
For a moment, the bar seemed to quiet down, and both of us looked down at where our hands were touching on the table before we slowly withdrew from one another. It had only been two weeks since we’d gone on hiatus, and the drinks and presents must have helped me forget abut the disaster that was our anniversary and subsequent pause.
Katie reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “My gift comes later,”
she said, leaning over to speak directly into my ear. “It’s a bit of a surprise… and something more private.”
“Yeah, of course.”
I turned to face the rest of the table. “Should we get started on this cake, or…?”
“I think another round is in order, non ?”
said Derek, standing with a slight sway. “I had to have the bartender order it specially from Paris, but for a proper celebration, we must make a proper toast.”
Concepción and Katie moved into action—Katie begin cutting the cake and removing as much wax as possible—while Concepción reached down and pulled out a set of crystalline flutes from a box near her feet. Danny helped distribute the plates while Derek pulled out a bottle of Champagne they’d been secretly chilling in an ice bucket under the table and presented it against a white cloth towel. If I’d ever forgotten that he was a sommelier, I certainly remembered it in that moment.
“This, mes amis , is a 1995 Dom Pérignon Rosé that will make you feel as if you are being carried away on a cloud by the Roman god of revelry and wine himself.”
Everyone gave the appropriate oohs and ahhs , but as Derek deftly opened the bottle and poured our glasses, Concepción came around and whispered as she placed mine on the table, “I told him you knew next to nothing about wine, and he said, ‘Ah, then I shall get her Champagne,’”
she said with a smile, mimicking his French accent. “Just know it’s about $500 a bottle and let him walk you through the bouquet and tasting process or whatever.”
I almost choked as she mentioned the price tag, but Derek, either drunk or just delighted to share his passion for really, really good alcohol, went through the entire presentation, and by the time I actually drank, my eyes closed in bliss. He wasn’t lying—it was a damn good Champagne. I’d never had anything close to it before—in fact, on the nights I drank, it was usually the cheapest $6 bottles of wine I could find at the grocery store; a fact I would never share with Derek. After everyone had tucked into their drinks and the joviality returned, I excused myself to the restroom, and wasn’t surprised to find Katie at my heels.
We chatted amicably as we went to the mirror to fix our makeup. Katie touched up her already perfect red curls, applying concealer over an obstinate pimple on her chin, then turned to me, fussing about how my hair was falling, and had I wiped off some of the makeup? She forced me to stay still as she reapplied everything I’d fought to remove, and I settled under her hands, knowing better than to argue. Before long, she paused, catching my gray eyes with her piercing hazel orbs.
“How are you?”
she asked. “I mean… Danny wasn’t sure if he should even come, but I told him that of course you’d want him here.”
I looked in the mirror, waving her concerns away as I fluffed my hair, frustrated at how pale the fluorescent lights made my skin look, and then finally decided to pull my waist-length hair into a messy bun. After all, we’d be dancing next, and sweaty hair clinging to my neck didn’t exactly excite.
“We’ve been celebrating birthdays together for decades,”
I said with a scoff. “It wouldn’t be a birthday without both of you there. Besides, it wasn’t… you know… his fault.”
Katie spun me to face her. “Mags, Danny doesn’t blame you, either, I’m sure.”
I looked away, afraid I would start crying, but Katie squeezed my arm until I looked back at her. “C’mon; dance floor time. We’ve got to burn off some of this cake before we eat all the pastry in the café tomorrow!
“Sounds good to me,”
I said with a grin.
We returned to finish the Champagne, and even before Katie had a chance to wind down the table, Concepción and Derek had already paid for everything and were making their way to the dance floor. Katie took both my hand and Danny’s, leading us hurriedly behind.
Danny stopped before the tiled dance floor and made a quick excuse about running to the restroom, so Katie and I danced for a while on our own. The flush of bodies—not to mention the swell of the energy from the crowd—left me feeling like I couldn’t breathe. I fanned myself, mouthed to Katie that I was getting water, and she just spun to find someone else to dance with.
A guy came up and started grinding on her, and she shoved him off and tugged a nearby girl’s arm, then began dancing with her. Just like that, it was almost as if I didn’t exist at all. I pushed my way out of the crowd and went toward a small outdoor balcony and patio area. The view of the city from here was breathtaking, and I leaned against the rail, breathing in the cool air fanning my face.
I would have preferred a party just at Katie’s café, or even just a little restaurant somewhere. I wasn’t sure why she’d chosen this place. Already a headache was setting in and I was desperate to go home. Crowds like this… whenever the need and desire built in the room, it was like breathing in fumes. I’d never quite explained it to Katie—or Danny—but I was certain both of them knew this wasn’t exactly my kind of scene. I’d dragged my feet to every concert, party, and loud bar she’d ever asked me to accompany her to, and usually was the first to ask to leave.
I turned around and studied the patio. There were people here, hiding in the shadows of the overhead trees and the dim lights, some kissing, some just smoking and talking, but without being so confined by the crush of bodies, I felt like I could breathe a little easier.
Danny approached me from one of the tables in the back, surprising me.
“Hey,”
I said, “I didn’t realize you were out here.”
“Yeah, I… I needed to get something from my car.”
He handed me an envelope, looking nervous as I took it.
“Another birthday card?”
I asked, raising my eyebrow.
“No, it’s… can we sit?”
I paused in opening it, then nodded and followed him over to the table in the corner he’d been lurking in. I couldn’t help but feel he’d known I would need to come out for air. Like he’d been waiting to corner me on my own. My gut was twisting into knots as I sat, holding the card, afraid to open it.
“Is this what I think it is?”
I asked. The music seemed far away, and the bass vibrato was faint. “You couldn’t just tell me yourself?”
“Can you just… please, just read it, okay?”
he said, crossing his arms over his chest, his leg tapping—a defensive posture I’d seen him take dozens of times.
I split the paper, pulled out a card. The outside simply read, I’m sorry , with some flowers on the cover. The inside was filled with Danny’s messy, tight scrawl. My eyes were already blurred with tears, so I couldn’t read the whole thing, but I picked out enough of the words to understand what was happening.
…can’t do this anymore
…not working
…think it’s for the best
…breaking up is hard, but?—
I stared at the bottom, where he’d signed, Love, Danny . I thought I might vomit.
“Can you… say something?”
he prompted, after I’d been sitting there, staring at the card, not seeing it, for several minutes.
“What’s there to say?”
I asked, my voice a whisper.
“C’mon, Mags,”
he said, exasperated. “Please. I didn’t want to upset you. I still want to be friends, but… I just don’t think we’re good together . I still care about you though, I just?—”
“Go away, Danny,”
I said. I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
“Mags—”
He reached for me, but I stood so fast the metal chair clattered to the concrete behind me. From the corner, Concepción and Derek—whom I hadn’t noticed were one of the couples hiding in the dark to make out—stood up.
“?”
she asked. “Are you all right?”
Danny raised a hand and shouted over to them, “It’s fine, she’s fine.”
Concepción looked to me, saw the tears in my eyes, and stormed over. Derek took several moments to get his pants zipped back up, then followed in her wake. She touched my shoulder, wrapping an arm around it protectively, and then looked down at the card in my hand. I felt her take it; my fingers were numb.
“Hey, that’s private—”
Danny said, trying to snatch it from her.
Concepción scanned the card, then sent him a glare that could have melted steel. “Are you serious? ? En su cumplea?os, cabrón?”
“ Qu’es que—”
began Derek, but Katie marched out from the club, sweaty and smiling.
“There you guys are! I’ve been looking for you?—”
Danny snatched the card from Concepción’s hands and stormed off without another word. Katie hesitated, started after her brother, then raced behind him as Concepción followed him, cussing Danny out in both Spanish and Nigerian. Derek took out a cigarette and watched him go, shaking his head in dismay before pocketing his lighter.
“Bastard, ehn ?”
he said as he took a drag. “A real man… he would never do such a thing. I apologize for his behavior, cheri .”
Katie and Concepción approached us once more, clearly having lost Danny to the crowds inside the bar.
“Do you know your brother just decided to break up with on her birthday? With a fucking greeting card?!”
Concepción demanded. “?Pinche pendejo!”
“He did what ?”
gasped Katie, grabbing my hand. “Mags, fuck, I didn’t know—I swear! He asked if it would be okay to come along, and I thought because you two were on a break that he might try to fix things, I didn’t?—”
I shook off her hand. “Can we just… can we maybe just go?”
K atie and I had gathered my gifts from the bartender’s office, where he’d graciously allowed us to store them while we danced, then walked the four or so blocks back to her apartment, which was above a sign that read Katie’s Café said that Katie had mentioned that I’d thought he was cute. I really hadn’t known how to answer—she’d asked me several times before if I’d ever considered dating her brother; in fact, insinuated that we’d be a good match, since we already hung out together so much anyway. I’d told her I never saw him as anything more than a friend, but he was cute. Although I’d flirted with boys before, I’d been horrible at it, so I wasn’t great at picking up signals. I found myself evaluating every interaction we’d ever had as his fingers drove goose bumps over my skin.
I’d had a few secret high school and university dates, but they’d ended the moment anyone—myself included—ever tried to take things to the “next level.”
My gut clenched, and Danny must have seen the nervousness in my face. He stopped touching me, but asked if it was okay if he kissed me.
I said yes, but I wasn’t sure myself. The kiss had been sloppy—we were both too drunk to do any better—but it had felt nice. I remembered the way it made my stomach twist with delight when he pressed me back onto the sofa, his body covering mine. It was only when he reached down and tried to pull off my bikini bottoms that I’d frozen. Panic cut through me, and I’d breathlessly demanded that he stop. He apologized, backed up, and helped me sit upright, then handed me a blanket. I thought he’d been sweet… but not long after, he’d started dating a girl from his work, and they went out for a couple years on and off.
…Until just over a year ago, when he’d said he’d been a fool not to ask me out back then. He promised he would let me set the pace; would make sure I was comfortable. I’d thought I was, but then…
I walked down the hall to the left of the front door; there was a spare bedroom on the right I normally stayed in while I was over here, and the guest bathroom was across from that. Katie’s room was straight at the end of the hall, and I went into her shower to use her shampoo and facial cleanser, since she never remembered to put any in the guest restroom.
Once I was clean and out of the water, having had a good cry and washing my face about three times, I got changed into a spare pair of PJs to find Katie’s decaf Irish coffees sitting on the living room table. Katie had wiped her makeup off, and upon seeing the offending—and recurring, she reminded me almost daily for weeks—zit on my chin, insisted I use one of her pimple patches. She dropped onto the oversized, L-shaped couch as we each grabbed the mugs from the table.
“Thanks for the cake and everything tonight,”
I said, stabilizing the towel I’d wrapped my hair in to dry. I took a sip of the coffee and thought my eyes might water.
There was such a thing as too much alcohol, but Katie seemed to never understand that, despite not being a big drinker herself outside of social events.
“Ugh, I’m so mad at Danny, I could strangle him,”
Katie said, taking a large gulp of her coffee, errantly searching through films available through her subscription services. “Sorry, I know you probably don’t want to discuss it, but…”
“It’s okay,”
I said. “…I guess it wasn’t really that unexpected.”
“Mags,”
Katie said, putting her coffee down on the table. “I know it’s probably the worst timing ever, because my brother is the biggest dick in the entire world, but… do you want to talk about things? I mean… that night when you and Danny decided to take a break?”
I groaned, now also putting my own cup down and pushing my face into my hands. “Danny told you everything I left out, right?”
“He didn’t want to—in fact, I had to threaten violence to get him to spill the beans, but Mags… c’mon. My brother and my best friend are dating for a year, and then magically go ‘on a break?’ You were so vague, I had to pull some of the details out of him, but…”
Tears stung my eyes. Twenty-six-years old and still a virgin who hadn’t even taken a blowjob to completion. Most of my friends had lost their virginity ages ago; Katie had lost hers when we were seventeen and literally would not shut up about it for weeks. Our other friends had gone just as apeshit about their experiences, their desires… but I’d always felt like there was some kind of club I’d never been able to join. The fear my parents put into me had been so encompassing, I’d never even tried to masturbate, because I was terrified they might be watching me from a hidden camera in the room. I’d heard from other girls that rough activities like sports could even cause your hymen to break, so I’d opted for quiet, still activities instead. Reading. Drawing. Playing piano. Learning graphic design on the computer.
Sitting quietly and only speaking when spoken to.
I had been a passive observer in my own life; always. And if it wasn’t my parents telling me everything I ought to do, then it was Katie—well-intentioned, but bossy—making decisions that had guided everything else, from my clothing to my drink choices… Even to my boyfriends. Katie’s bossiness wasn’t nearly as scary as my parents, though, and I knew she only did it because she was protective of me, so I’d taken her advice. Always.
Now… here I was, having had my last boyfriend—her brother—break up with me via a card on my birthday. This was after she’d invited him even when I secretly hadn’t wanted him there to begin with. I’d hedged the idea to her that Danny might not want to come, given our break, while Katie had been sending texts to confirm guests. She hadn’t even been listening, so I’d tried another way, then let the matter drop.
It was a pretty common occurrence for me, and one constant that felt natural: I spoke and no one heard a word.
From the outside, people must have thought I was the perfect daughter. I attended church every Sunday with my parents; always spoke to them respectfully; had a job that paid my bills without their assistance. But everything I did—or didn’t do—was because my parents literally beat the fear of God into me almost every waking moment of my life. The only time I’d ever gotten a chance to just get away from it all was when I was allowed to go away to school, and even then , they required it to be an all-girls’ university.
I had been promptly unenrolled, however, when they found out there were nude figure-drawing classes on campus. I hadn’t even been registered for those—just the still-life sketches—but the moment they found out nudity in class might be a possibility, they’d yanked me out so fast I nearly got whiplash.
Perhaps they thought I might find a banana too erotic.
If they ever knew I’d even looked at a penis, much less put one in my hands or mouth, they’d have me locked up for life.
At twelve, I’d been marched out in a white dress with a line of other preteen girls in front of the entire congregation of the church we attended before being made to swear an oath to God that I would remain “pure.”
I had no idea what the priest meant—I was worried that if I got dirt on myself, I’d be breaking my vow—and when I asked my parents about it after the service, they’d responded by telling me that I’d lied when I made my oath and beat me for an hour when we got home.
The next day, I was marched into the priest’s office, where they told him about my sinful, wicked nature, and their concerns that I would be a whore. They asked him to tell me what purity meant, and to make me take the oath again. The priest, looking every bit as confused as I felt, had then just quickly mumbled that it meant I wouldn’t have sex outside of marriage, and then sent us on our way. That night, my mother beat me again and told me if I ever had sex, she would pray for God to send his angels to smite me, and then she’d have me declared legally insane and locked away.
I recognized, as I got older, that other people could have sex, but I… couldn’t.
Considering how much torment I’d gone through after the whole nude-drawing class incident, it had taken me nearly a year to convince them to let me finish my degree online. At home. Where they could watch me and monitor my work.
I felt heat welling up in my chest as Katie pulled me into a tight hug and rubbed my back.
“I’m such a loser,”
I muttered. “I can’t expect anyone to ever want to stay with me when I can barely give them a handjob without my stomach churning.”
“You’re not a loser, Mags,”
Katie said, her tone stern. “Your parents are seriously fucked up. They made you believe things that aren’t true, you know? I mean… you’re twenty-six now. Do you really have to keep going to church with them every Sunday?”
I sobbed harder, clinging to Katie like a floatation device after I’d been shipwrecked at sea.
“If I ever stop, you know what they’ve said they’ll do.”
“But…”
Katie hesitated. “What were you planning on doing about… y’know… after the anniversary? Those awful appointments they make you go to?”
I shook my head. “I changed all my paperwork to the new insurance. I thought… I thought I could finally have some privacy. As long as I kept going, but they couldn’t get any details, then…”
“Then maybe you could actually have a normal sex life without freaking out?”
“My father knew,”
I said softly, looking down at the couch. “He asked me why I’d canceled it. I told him I’d moved it.”
“Fuck, dude,”
said Katie. “They already found out?! There must be like, I don’t know, a spy in the office or something.”
I didn’t answer. I’d moved the appointment to the following month to make sure I would have time for my insurance to kick in, just so I could get my parents out of my reproductive organs for the first time in my life. It was because mine and Danny’s one-year anniversary was coming up, and I’d intended it to be special; to be the night. Danny had been practically dancing around all day, waiting until after dinner—when we had both gotten naked in our hotel—and he’d encouraged me to have a few drinks to relax. Danny’s version of “a few drinks”
was about the same as his sister’s though, and I’d been through most of a bottle of wine when he’d laid on top of me and started kissing me all over.
At first, the sensation had been like being weightless; his mouth felt good; his breath was sweet from the wine; I could feel his desire, and the erection against my stomach made me go positively buzzy. I wanted him to make love to me. I wanted to get my virginity over with and join that strange, seemingly exclusive club everyone else had already joined. But then he’d moved my legs apart, and everything within me clenched so hard, I’d broken out into a sweat and I had to shove him away as I puked on the bed.
I ended up locking myself in the bathroom for an hour before I felt well enough to come back out, and by then, the hotel maids had erased all evidence of my terror and given us fresh linens, but Danny was gone. It had been embarrassing—no, humiliating . After a year… with the man I knew better than any other man in the world…
If I wasn’t able to have sex with him, then maybe it wasn’t possible for me at all. Danny had come back before check-out the next morning. He told me he thought we should take a break, and I’d packed my bags and left him at the front desk, then went home on my own. My birthday party had been the first time I’d seen him since. I thought that maybe he wanted to discuss trying again.
“Hey,”
I asked, “did Danny really pick out that present for me?”
Katie’s mouth went into a tight line, which I recognized as the signal she was trying to think up a decent lie. She blew out a breath of air.
“I mean… he paid for it?”
she said, squinching her face up. “It was on your public wish list. I… I asked him if he thought you’d like it, and he said you’d been looking at it for months, so I got it and wrapped it—but he did pay me back.”
I just nodded.
“I’m sorry, I can see how that might have been… misleading,”
Katie continued, “but I swear, I didn’t think he was going to break up with you… definitely not like that, the ass.”
She sucked her teeth in annoyance. “He could have at least told me. He tells me everything else, for fuck’s sake.”
I didn’t reply. Both Danny and Katie knew my parents had spent nearly every day for as long as I could remember warning me of the lure and evil of carnal desires and giving into the flesh, but there were some things they’d done to me that I was too ashamed to admit. Even to my best friend and boyfriend. Well… ex-boyfriend.
Katie and Danny’s mom had been the one to teach me, in secret, about reproduction and the human anatomy after I got my period the first time. It had been the summer I’d turned twelve—shortly after the purity debacle—and as both of my parents were working at the Christian seminary across town, I was home alone. I’d run to the O’Learys’ in tears, convinced I was dying, and worse—that if my parents saw blood in my underwear, they would think I’d done something sinful and would damn my eternal soul to whatever circle of Hell harlots ended up in.
After that, Mrs. O’Leary made Katie pack tampons and pads for me every month to give to me at school. I would hide them in my locker, only bringing enough with me in my backpack to last for the evening or weekend, and then I would cart the used items wrapped up in toilet tissue and a grocery bag back with me to school to throw them out. My parents never once asked, even when my face began breaking out in pimples and my mother was forced to take me bra shopping. She left me with the attendant, a kind older woman, who helped me figure out my size and how to get everything on and off again.
“It’s so embarrassing,”
I admitted finally, sniffling as I desperately tried to hold back further tears. “I’m twenty-six and I had a panic attack the moment Danny—sorry, I know it’s your brother, so, ah, maybe you’re not the person to discuss this with.”