Unlovely (17 page)

"Okay, well, can we just
cuddle?"

"Mm-hmm," she answered. She
leaned against Mark, who was so strong and solid in his blue sweater, and
allowed her body to relax. He leaned back on the bed, and the two of them lay
together like that for a while, until Mark began to kiss her neck again. This
time it didn't tickle so much. It felt nice. Then he kissed her lips, and that
was even nicer. A moment's panic, and then she relaxed again.

Somehow his fingers were unbuttoning her
blouse, fumbling with her bra, seeking hooks and finding none (sports bra,
dammit – what a nuisance). Somehow the bra was up and over her head, and her
jeans were on the floor. A moment with her eyes closed – almost asleep! Can't
fall asleep! –
and
then he was naked, too. Just a peek
at him, then he was beside her again on the narrow bed. Somehow she found
herself between the fresh sheets, clutching the back of a man whose last name
she couldn't remember at the moment. Then he was tearing open the condom, and
she was pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts while that was going on. Then
it was time, and there was a lot more pain than she'd expected, enough to make
her swear, but then it didn't hurt so much. It was hard to breathe with the
weight upon her. She waited for it to be over. It seemed to be taking a long
time. What was she supposed to be doing? It was weird, she felt outside
herself, like a different person. Was it the sex or the alcohol? How is this
happening? Who is this? How did this happen? And then it was done, and he was
rolling over to get off of her. She was lying there with a stranger next to her
who had been inside her, and it was just all so strange.

They lay next to each other in silence for about five
minutes. The bed was so narrow that her side was pressed against the cinder
block wall. She was afraid to move and knock Mark onto the floor.

"So, how are you doing?" he
asked through a yawn.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to
say. I'm okay."

"Not a ringing endorsement."

Claudia felt a twinge of pity. She was
being bitchy, and he had probably tried his best. As far as she could tell, it
wasn't his fault that it was so weird. She was about to apologize, but Mark had
begun to snore quietly.

Claudia felt too uncomfortable to fall
asleep, and she began to think about what all this meant. The burden of her
virginity – her ignorance, really – was off her shoulders. Now no one on this
whole campus knew more than Claudia did about sex, (well, maybe some people
knew more about some kinds of sex, but in general she was in-the-know). She
wasn't a prude anymore. She wasn't weird. There was no secret knowledge to
which she wasn't privy. She was experienced, just like Melanie. Just like Janet
and the other girls.

Melanie had been right all along: sex
wasn't a big deal. It was a biological imperative, like eating and drinking.
Any idiot could do it. Why did everyone make it into such a big deal? Why had
she? She could have been doing this for years. What had she been saving it for?
She had the same equipment between her legs as every other girl. It was
natural. Everybody did it, because it was nothing enormous or significant. It
just was what it was.

The effect of the Schnapps began to wear
off as they lay there, Mark dozing. The hum of the digital clock sounded loud.
Claudia could hear the thump of music from down the hall, and the chatter of
girls coming back from the library or the student union or wherever they'd
been. What would they think if they knew she was lying here naked next to this
guy? What would they think of her now? Would they be able to tell? Should she
tell them? Drop it into casual conversation the way the rest of them did,
giggling in the hall night after night?

Claudia's head was clearing. She started
thinking about where she was and what she had just done, and all of a sudden,
out of nowhere, she felt a surge of sadness and horror. It came on her so
quickly and unexpectedly that for a moment she thought she might throw up. At
first, she hoped she would, that it was the Schnapps. But she knew it wasn't.

"Please go away," she
murmured, giving Mark a shove with her elbow.

"What? What was that?" Mark
asked sleepily.

"Go away. Now. Get up and
leave." Louder this time.

"What? Really?" He shook his
head to clear the cobwebs. "Okay. I guess I can go now if you want me
to."

Mark sat up and looked at Claudia, her
eyes closed, her body stiff. "Hey, did I hurt you? I know the first time
hurts a girl. Are you all right? Did I do something wrong?"

When she didn't respond, Mark grew
alarmed, "Why are you lying there like that? Claudia?"

He grabbed her arm and shook it.

Suddenly Claudia started to cry.
Initially, it was just a couple of teardrops, running down her cheeks and
quickly absorbed into the pillow case, then it turned into loud, racking sobs.
She didn't make any attempt to contain them.

Mark jumped out of bed and knelt on the
floor at her side.

"Geez, Claudia, what is it? Will
you look at me and tell me what it is? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Will you
talk to me?"

Claudia turned over, clutched her pillow
to her face and screamed into it.

"Claudia--"

"Get out of here! Just get out.
Please, please leave me alone."

"Claudia, I can't leave you like
this. I can't. I need to know you're going to be okay. Are you going to be
okay?"

He wasn't dressed yet, he was kneeling
on the floor next to her, naked, and she was naked, and it was unbelievably
awful.

"I'm okay. Please, please put on
your clothes," Claudia said as calmly as she could manage between ragged
gulps of air. He wasn't going to go until she was calm and she needed him out
of her room. She needed to be alone in her room.

Mark gathered the clothes scattered
around the bed, stood up and began to get dressed.

"I'm sorry, Claudia. I'm really
sorry. I didn't want this."

Then her body was shaking again. She was
cold without him in bed and she hated herself for being cold.

"Of course you wanted it. You got
your piece of ass," she spat at him.

"No, no. I wanted you. I didn't
want this – this whatever it is that's making you so upset."

Claudia turned over and sat up,
clutching the sheet to cover her as best she could, her eyes red,
her
face pale and blotchy.

"You wanted me? You're saying you
wanted me? You don't even know me. You don't know me, I don't know you and I
let you do that to me. I let you inside me. Oh, my God, it makes me sick to say
it."

Mark was speechless. What could he say?
It was a fact. He stood next to the bed, dressed except for his shoes, staring
at the floor like a teenager caught taking the car without asking. He looked
pathetic, she thought. But then, no. He looked worried.

"If you want me to go, I'll
go," he said. "But I want you to know that I wouldn't have done this
if you hadn't asked me to. You did ask me, Claudia. You wanted it.
Arkady
knows. Hell, you asked him first! So don't start
acting like a nun now."

Claudia couldn't believe her ears. He
was actually defending himself. She was sobbing her heart out and he was
worried about covering his ass.

"You think I'm going to yell
rape?" she gasped. "You think that's what this is about?"

His silence was answer enough.

"No, I'm not accusing you of raping
me, any more than you raped any of the other women you've had sex with. I'm not
angry with you, Mark – well, now I am, for being a coward and a jerk – I'm
disgusted with myself. Now will you please, please, please get the hell out of
my room?"

Mark sat at the desk chair to put on his
shoes. Claudia grabbed her panties from the foot of the bed, dove under the
sheet and shimmied into them. She threw on her flannel shirt and buttoned it
unevenly. After Mark had tied his shoelaces he stood up to leave, grabbing what
was left of the bottle of Schnapps.

"We don't have to talk about this
with anyone, right?"

"You mean, don't talk to anyone in
the Russian department? Or are you saying I can't discuss this magical evening
with my girlfriends?"

"Anyone."

"Are you ashamed of yourself,
Mark?"

"Why should I be? I didn't do
anything wrong. I just don't want you spinning some story about what happened
here tonight."

Mark squared his shoulders and looked
down at Claudia, sitting on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed in front of
her chest and her eyes straight ahead, not even looking at him.

"I don't get you. I don't get
what's going on in your head. There is something seriously wrong with
you."

"Oh, thanks," Claudia
muttered. "Sex and analysis, all in one night."

"Whatever. I'm gone. See you,
Claudia."

Mark turned the doorknob, then paused.
"Hey, don't you have to walk me out or something?"

Claudia lay back on the bed and closed
her eyes.

"Why don't you just take your
chances? Don't worry. If you get stopped and anyone asks, I'll tell them I
don't even know you. You don't have to fret about your reputation."

"Screw you."

"Mission accomplished."

Mark left, shutting the door more
quietly than Claudia would have done. Claudia continued to lie on her bed, eyes
open now, staring at the ceiling. She felt awful. She felt sadder than she
could ever remember. She hurt physically, too. And she felt lonely. There
wasn't a single person she could talk to about this. Maybe Melanie. But what
could she say to her? It was too much to explain. Melanie wouldn't get it at
all. No one ever understood Claudia. No one was like Claudia.

She lay there like that for about
fifteen minutes, waiting for the noises in the hall to quiet down as the girls
settled into their rooms for the night. After a period of silence that led her
to believe her hall mates had gone to bed, Claudia rose and undressed again.
She put on her robe, grabbed her towel and went down the hall to the bathroom,
where she stood for half an hour in a hot shower. She wasn't crying anymore,
just very, very tired.

Returning to her room, Claudia stood
frozen for several seconds staring at the scene of the crime. It was too great
an effort to make up the bed with fresh sheets, so she stripped off the mess
that was there, replaced the pillow, threw her bedspread over the whole thing,
and lay down. She fell asleep shortly after, her hair damp, all the lights on.
Her sleep was thankfully dreamless.

When Claudia woke up the next morning, her mouth tasted
awful and there were little lines etched on her face from the pattern of the
bedspread. Still, she felt better physically, more like herself, and so she
proceeded to get on with her day. She performed her normal ablutions, brewed a
cup of coffee and headed to class.

What else could she do? Life had to go
on. It made no sense to wallow in sadness and regret, she kept telling herself.
And there really was no call for regret, anyway. After all, hadn't she done
what she'd set out to do? She'd accomplished her goal. This should be a morning
of triumph.

But Claudia didn't feel triumphant. She
was upset. Her head still ached and felt heavy after the liquor and the
sobbing. Moreover, she was ashamed of the way she'd behaved. To lose it like
that! She'd been hysterical. Lying there next to Mark she had felt such a
sudden wave of irrational remorse. Why? Why should she react like that? It was
beyond a simple emotional reaction. It was a physical one, something like a
systemic allergic reaction. Was that it? Could she be allergic to sex? Does
that happen? People act weird sometimes when they're having allergic reactions,
don't they? No, that was ridiculous. Who's allergic to sex?

Ugh. Maybe she was abnormal. Who knew?
She didn't think she was, but does an abnormal person recognize pathology in
himself?

Self-analysis aside, Claudia found she
couldn't help reliving her post-coital scene with Mark, every moment of it,
starting with the crying jag and ending with their last angry words at his
departure. It made her cringe. That really was bad. It wasn't that she felt
particularly sorry for having been rough or rude to him. After all, in the end,
he'd proven himself a real son of a bitch. It was the actual physical intimacy,
and then the other thing. He'd been a witness to her complete loss of control.
It was like he'd seen her naked body and then he'd seen her naked
self.

"Have you been taking your Metamucil?"

"Yes, every day. I mix it with
chocolate milk."

"Good. How are the stomach
cramps?"

"Almost completely gone, I think.
Unless I get really nervous."

"What do you mean exactly? What
makes you really nervous?"

"I still have trouble with new
situations. Sometimes I get mild cramps when I move from room to room. I get a
nervous stomach until I feel comfortable someplace."