"It’s about … men," I admitted.
She got to her feet and closed the door behind me. Glancing around the corridor, probably to make sure her father wasn’t hanging out anywhere, she turned her attention back to me. "Men?”
"Men," I replied, perching on the end of her bed. I didn’t know how to go about this conversation. A few times, my mother had tried to start it with me, but I’d had no clue what I was meant to do or say. So, I just sat there, lightly paralyzed with awkwardness, trying to ignore her use of words that felt distinctly medical and utterly off-putting.
"You’ve never been with one, have you?” she asked bluntly.
I paused then shook my head. There was no point in lying to her about any of this. She could probably see through me anyway; guessing I was telling lies about how much experience I’d actually had. I didn’t know what to tell her, or if she would think I was a freak if I admitted the depths my repression had gone to, but I knew I needed her help.
"No, I haven’t," I admitted.
"Just waiting for the right guy, or is it something else?”
"A little of both, I guess," I replied. "I’ve never … I mean, I’ve never really let myself feel attracted to a guy like that. I suppose I’ve never had one look at me that way, either."
"Oh, trust me, men have been looking at you," she replied.
I shook my head. "Really, I don’t think--"
"There isn’t anyone men don’t look at," she said getting to her feet and brushing my hair back from my face. "And look at you. You’re so pretty."
"But men don’t go for women like me," I mumbled glancing down at my outfit. "I don’t know how to dress to get them to pay attention to me. I’ve never wanted them to ..."
"Until now," she finished wiggling her eyebrows at me playfully. She turned to her closet and pulled it open. "Come on, we’re about the same size. I’m sure I can find something to fit you."
She made me over. It was as though she’d been waiting for that moment from the first time she’d laid eyes on me, and I supposed she had. I was more than happy to let her take control and show me how I was meant to look if I was going to find a man to have me. If I was even ready to go that far yet. Touching myself had been one thing, but doing it would be quite another.
We went through a few outfits--her throwback style didn’t suit me that well, but she eventually dug out a dress that made me feel pretty good. It was the kind of thing I would have pursed my lips at if I’d seen another woman wearing it in the street, but honestly, that would have been because I was jealous. I would never have the nerve to wear it myself. It was black, tight around the top, loose around my legs. So, I could dance, Donna told me.
"Wait, we’re going somewhere I need to dance?”
"Of course we are!" she exclaimed. "I didn’t get you all dressed up so you could just sit at home on your rear end doing nothing all night, did I?”
"I don’t know if I’m ready for that," I admitted, looking at myself in the mirror. I twisted back and forth, checking myself out. Sure, I liked the way I looked, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for anyone else to like the way I looked. Not just yet.
"There’s a bar, near here," she told me. "They don’t check IDs. We can get in, flirt a little, dance … it’ll be fun, I promise!"
All of those things sounded mildly terrifying to me, but then I remembered how I had felt the night before when I’d seen her with Andrew--that freedom she had all over her face. I came back to that image a lot, even though I knew it likely wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world. But she didn’t get there by sitting around at home and letting her worst fears get the better of her, that was for sure.
"Okay," I agreed, a smile spreading over my face. "Okay, I think I can handle that."
"Of course you can," she promised me. "Come on. Let’s call a cab and we can go out."
She wandered into the kitchen to make the call, and I followed her. Thom was there, washing dishes from that morning, and his eyes practically bugged out when he saw me all dressed up. I couldn’t help but notice the way he stopped what he was doing to take me in. I bit my lip.
"Is it too much?" I asked him, a little playfully.
He shook his head. "No, I think you look great," he replied and moved an inch closer to me.
Before I could say anything else, Donna turned back to me and clapped her hands together.
"Okay, that’s the cab on the way now," she announced. "Should be here in a few minutes. Come on, let’s go get our stuff."
"All right," I agreed.
Thom tore his gaze away from me like it was stuck there with glue. I felt something warm flutter up inside of me. I liked it when he looked at me like that. It might have been wrong, and I might have been terrible for even thinking that way, but something about the way he had taken me in like he wanted every inch of me was just … mmm. It made something glow inside me.
That thing was still glowing inside me when I climbed into the back of the cab with Donna. She was chattering away about all the other times she’d been to this bar, and I was trying to take it all in so I could figure out how to conduct myself without making a complete ass out of myself in the process.
"Just make sure to avoid all the creepy guys in the corner," she warned me. "They’re always trouble."
"The bad kind?”
She grinned at me. "See, now you’re getting it," she replied, apparently pleased with the revelation. "And yeah, the bad kind. But trust me, there’s good trouble to be had up at this place, as well."
"Whatever you say," I agreed.
A few moments later we arrived outside a bar. It didn’t have a sign over the door, but the windows were lined with neon and loud music blared from inside. The sort of place I would have avoided like it was a leper colony before, but now, I was about to spend the night there. Out of choice. Even to me, it seemed like a crazy-big ask.
"You sure you’re ready for this, Cindy?” Donna asked, apparently sensing my nerves as I hesitated in the back of the taxi.
I gathered myself as best I could then nodded. I wasn’t going to get anywhere pulling back from everything that made me feel uncomfortable. "I’m ready for this," I replied.
She beamed at me. And with that, I went to my very first bar for the very first time.
Donna ordered us a couple of beers, and I sipped on the sour liquid. I wasn’t sure exactly what people got out of drinking this stuff, but the bar was full of them and I figured this was the best way for me to fit in.
"You see that guy over there?" Donna asked, having to raise her voice to be heard over the music.
I looked around to see who she was talking about--a guy with a few years on us, and he had been eyeing us openly since we’d walked in.
"Yeah?”
"I hooked up with him last time I was here," she replied, and there was an edge of pride in her voice. "In his car. It was really hot."
"Really?” I gaped at her. I couldn’t believe anyone would have the nerve for that, but then, I supposed that I had to get on board with this kind of thing if I was going to get what I wanted.