He goes on to tell me her name is Bethany. She’s an English professor who started a few months ago. They’ve had coffee, but are grabbing dinner tonight. Hearing him excited about something other than his work lifts my heart a little. I find myself smiling as we disconnect.
“I miss you, too.” Vivienne, my best friend number one, is clutching her phone and wiping a tear away when I enter the hostel room we’re sharing. “I keep telling myself it’s only a week, but my heart won’t listen.”
I catch the eyes of my best friend number two, Kimba, who gives me her famous can you believe this shit look.
Vivienne glances at us a little self-consciously, turns her back, and lowers her voice.
“Sorry, I should have told you. I took the pillow case,” she says in a sad whisper. “Because it smelled like you.”
“Jesus, keep me near the cross,” Kimba mutters, rolling her eyes and raising her voice. “Bitch, get off that phone. Stephen, she’ll be fine. We’ll make sure she doesn’t screw anyone before the wedding.”
I snort, but over her shoulder, Vivienne’s eyes are wide and horrified and filled with poison.
“Sorry,” Kimba hisses with unrepentant humor.
“I have to go, Stephen,” Vivienne says. “The girls need help settling in.”
As soon as she hangs up, she grabs a pillow from a nearby couch and puts it over Kimba’s face where she lies on the bottom bunk.
“You’re smothering me,” Kimba’s muffled voice, mixed with laughter, comes from under the pillow.
“That’s the point.” Vivienne chuckles and lifts the pillow. “Were you trying to get me un-engaged?”
“It would take a stick of dynamite to blast you and Stephen apart,” I tell her, climbing the short ladder to my upper bunk on the opposite side. “I’m not sure he’ll make it this one week without you.”
“It’s gonna be tough,” Vivienne says, completely serious, which sets my and Kimba’s eyes to rolling again. “What? It’s our first time apart since the engagement.”
“I get it,” Kimba says, then shakes her head and mouths, “I don’t get it.”
“I mean, it’s a week.” I try to keep the exasperation from my voice. “Surely you can last a week without him.”
“Just wait’ll you meet the one,” Vivienne says. “And you’ll see how it feels. Maybe even here in Amsterdam. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”
“Until I figure out what I want to do with my life,” I say dryly, “the great problem of ‘the one’ will have to wait, and I’m in no hurry.”
“While I’m looking for the one of many,” Kimba says. “Nothing that lasts beyond an orgasm. Maybe I’ll find a big, blond Dutchman to woo me with his foreign tongue.”
“Some tongue.” Vivienne laughs. “And some abs, chest, arms, dick.”
“Oh, for sure some dick.” Kimba high fives Vivienne and peers up at me from the bottom bunk in our tiny, but cozy hostel room. “Come on, Lenn. You planning to get you some while we’re here?”
“Oh, yeah.” I turn over onto my stomach. “Because I’m most likely to rando hook-up. I doubt very seriously I’ll be surrendering the V-card to some stranger in Amsterdam. I’ve held onto it this long; that would be a waste.”
“Already a waste, if you ask me,” Viv says. She climbs the ladder to her top bunk, but stops midway, propping her butt against a rung. “I know you’ve been tempted.”
“Of course I have.” I shrug. “But it passes, and I always see something I don’t like, don’t trust, or can’t tolerate. I’ll know when it’s the right time, the right guy. I literally just had this conversation with my father.”
“You and your dad,” Vivienne says, shaking her head and grinning. “How is the professor?”
“Better now he’s heard my voice and knows I haven’t been sex trafficked yet.”
“Ugh,” Kimba groans from the lower bunk. “Did he watch Taken again?”
“I know. I told him to stop. Anyway, he assures me that I’m probably not asexual.”
“Was that a serious thought?” Vivienne asks. “I mean, it’d be okay if you were, but you’ve had boyfriends and seemed to like all the pre-game activities. I bet you’ll like dick once you get some.”
“I’m just not a dick-for-the-sake-of-dick girl, I don’t think.” I bury my head in the cool pillow and breathe in clean linen. “I trust myself to know when and who.”
I’ve never been ashamed of my virginity; I’ve never avoided discussing it if people asked either. Both my parents taught me to know what I believe, to articulate it first to myself and then to others. If it’s any of their damn business, that is, which in most cases, it’s not. But nothing is off-limits between me and these two girls.
“You’re in no hurry,” Kimba says from down below, “because you haven’t had it. Once you do . . . whew, child. Hard to go without.”
I’ve never liked the idea of my body making decisions my head and my heart don’t cosign. I’ve seen both of my friends crying, depressed, or dejected after some man disappointed them. No dick is worth that.
“Hmm-mm,” Kimba breaks the sound into two syllables and bites her bottom lip. “One taste, one good taste, and you’ll be hooked.”
“God, there’s nothing like really good sex,” Viv groans, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. “Even going a week without Stephen . . . ugh.”
“A week?” Kimba scoffs. “Try months. I’m in a drought, but I’ve read the weather forecast, and it’s raining in Amsterdam, honey!”
The three of us laugh and shift into planning for tomorrow. We have a week in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and we want to take full advantage of it.
“So I know we’re all a little jetlagged,” Viv says, her voice drowsy, “but will you be refreshed enough after a power nap to go out?”
“Sure.” I yawn and tuck my arm under the pillow. “A few winks and we’ll be ready.”
“Good,” Viv mumbles. “Aya says we’ll start off nice and slow tonight. Just hit a brown bar, eat, drink. Maybe you’ll pick up something nice and blond to bring home, Kimba.”
“Fingers crossed,” Kimba says. “Legs open.”
“Oh, my god,” Viv groans. “Hussy. We need to establish mating rules. You better not be fucking some huge Norseman in the bunk below.”
Our drowsy chuckles intermingle and fade.
“We’ll work out a system,” Viv says. “Well for you, Kimba. Ms. I’m Waiting For Mr. Right Dick over there won’t need a system.”
I’m used to the teasing, but is it so wrong to wait until it feels right? To wait until you feel like you’ve met someone you want to share your body with?
My mind wanders back to my Sunrise Dance. The whole ceremony leads to that point when the spirit of Changing Woman supposedly inhabits you, even just briefly. For a slice of time, you take something holy into your body, and it changes you forever. I’m not saying sex will be holy, but the first time I share my body with someone, it will be special.