CHAPTER 42 -- Broken Glass

It was a dark and stormy night.

I've always wanted to start a story with that line. I guess starting a chapter that way is sort of like that. Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night in early November, and I was once again having a "sleepover" at Doris's house. Doris had somehow gotten a vibrator, so after we went to bed and turned out the light, she got it out. We knew how you were supposed to use it, but it was more fun to pretend we didn't. We'd tried it on ears, necks, breasts, and we'd even held it in our mouths while it was running. The storm was so loud, we figured we didn't have to be all that quiet, and we were giggling and laughing like crazy. We'd thrown our nightgowns on the floor, and Doris was about to try it on my clitoris, when suddenly there was this huge crash over by her desk and a blast of cold, wet wind started coming in. Doris fumbled for the bedside lamp. When she turned it on, we saw a huge branch, as big around as my leg, sticking in the window and lying on her desk, and there were bits of glass and wood and leaves and papers everywhere. Including on her nightshirt and my nightgown, the pretty one Teresa had given me.

I was about to get off the bed and walk over there, but Doris yelled, "stay on the bed. Do you want to get glass in your feet and have to go to the emergency room? Let me get my slippers on, you stay here."

About then, the door burst open, and Doris's father turned on the light and looked in. Her mother was right behind. They looked at us and then at the tree branch. I was so embarrassed. There we were, stark naked on the bed. I was sure they'd throw me out, maybe both of us. I mean, not just sex, but lesbian sex!

Her father said, "you girls stay on the bed. Wait for us to clean up the glass. We don't want you getting splinters. Tabby, you wait here, I'll go fetch a broom and the vacuum."

As we sat their waiting, I thought about pulling the top sheet over me, but then thought I would just draw attention to myself. I guess Doris was embarrassed, too, because she said, "mom, it isn't what you think."

Her mother shook her head with a funny smile and gently said, "Dor, you don't have to lie to us. It's okay."

About then, I noticed the vibrator -- on the bed, in plain view. The jig is up, I thought. Doris sounded confused: "what do you mean?"

"I mean, if you and Melanie want to have sex together, or not to, or do something else, it's fine. I know you care about each other and wouldn't hurt anyone." She gave another one of those funny smiles. "You've always done what you thought best, and it's worked out pretty well. You're seventeen, so we thought you might start, well, experimenting. We'd glad that if you are, you're doing it where we know where you are and know you're safe --" she glanced at the hole where the window used to be "-- well, mostly safe -- and not in the back of a car or some other awful place."

"But -- why didn't you say something?" she gasped.

"We assumed you'd tell us when you were ready. We didn't want to invade your privacy."

I don't know where the conversation would have gone, but her father showed up with a broom with a rag on it, a brush and dustpan, a big trash can, and the vacuum cleaner. He must have had five hands to hold it all. He started pushing the glass and everything else on the floor away from the door and the bed, while her mom reached over and carefully picked up the bigger pieces of glass and wood. Once they'd cleaned and vacuumed a path to the dresser, her mom asked, "which drawer are your nightshirts in?"

"The bottom one. Oh, and please get a second one for Melanie. She looks chilly." I was shaking, but I think it was more because I was scared and blown away by the whole thing. After we both had gotten something on, I noticed that the vibrator was still on the bed. I saw her mom pull open the drawer in the bedside table and casually put the vibrator in, like it was perfectly normal for your teen-aged daughter to have a vibrator, but she should put it away when she's not using it.

"Come on downstairs, I'll make up the sofa for you. You can't sleep in here tonight. Melanie, we'll get the glass out of your nightgown tomorrow, I know you'll want to keep it."

By the time Doris and I had opened out the couch for a bed, her mom showed up with sheets and a whole pile of blankets and pillows. We made up the bed while her mom went into the kitchen and put something on the stove. "I'll make a nice pot of herb tea to settle you down," she said from the kitchen.

When we were done, we sat on the edge of the sofa bed. I was still shivering, but Doris looked stunned, like someone had hit her with a baseball bat. Her mom came over and took her in her arms and held her. I saw tears dripping from Doris's eye, but she didn't make a sound. Her mom must have seen how scared I was, because she said, "don't worry, Melanie, no one's going to do anything to you. You're fine. Come here," and she reached out to me and hugged me together with Doris. We stayed that way until the tea kettle started whistling.

Her dad came down about the time her mom brought out the tray with the teapot and the cups. "I got the worst of it cleaned up," he said, "and I pulled the desk away from the window so Doris's books and papers won't get ruined any more than they already are. I rescued Melanie's bag, too. I assume her clothes are inside. We'll work on it some more in the morning." We sat around the coffee table and drank our tea and didn't say anything.

Her mom said, "I think you two should get to bed." Her dad came over and gave each of us a hug. A man hug, but it was nice, all the same. Then her mom put her arms around Doris again and held her and stroked her back and head and murmered, "It's all right," over and over. Then her parents turned out the lights and went upstairs to bed.

I put my arms around Doris and pulled her into bed and tossed the covers over her. She was crying silently, but then started to sob. "What is it?" I asked.

"I don't know. It's like, I don't know, to think that all this time they've known what's been going on with me and all my boyfriends and girlfriends. It's like I've been walking around naked all this time and didn't even know it." She went back to crying on my chest while I held her.

We must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, the sun was coming in the window and I could hear her mom bustling around in the kitchen. Doris was still asleep with her head on my chest.

Doris was in a better mood, especially after she'd eaten something. She and her dad worked on cutting the tree branch off that was sticking in the window and putting plastic sheeting over the window opening. I wanted to help, but they didn't want me messing up my nice clothes, which is all I had brought to wear. So her mom and I worked on getting glass splinters out of my nightgown, Doris's night shirt, and the other random clothes and rugs that had been on the floor and gotten broken glass rained on them.

CHAPTER 43 -- More Than A Friend

Things were never the same between Doris and me after that. She didn't want to have me over for sleep-overs, because she couldn't stand knowing her parents knew what was happening.

"I don't understand," I said, talking to her on the phone one evening. "Isn't it great that they aren't getting all weird about you having sex? Lots of kids would die for parents who were cool about it." I kind of whispered, so nobody at our place could hear me.

"I don't know, it makes me feel like a little kid again. Having to have my parents' permission. And it's kind of weird thinking of them being mixed up in, well, what we were doing together. I mean, what are they going to do next, give me a dildo for Christmas?"

"You'd rather they were mad at you?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Does this mean you don't want to make love any more?"

"Look, Mel, it's not personal, okay? I like you a lot, and I want to, but -- I don't want to do it with anyone if my parents -- well, I know it sounds stupid, but I can't relax knowing that they're, you know."

"Will you at least keep being my friend?" I was suddenly afraid it would turn out like it did with Dennis.

"I'll always be your friend, Melanie. More than a friend. I've stayed more than a friend with all the girls I've, you know, been intimate with."

I couldn't help teasing her. "Have there been so many?" I sort of giggled, so she wouldn't think I was really putting her down.

"That's gross," she said. After a pause, she continued, "only three. A girl named Alice, who kind of introduced me to doing it with girls. She's in college now. There's you. And one other."

"Sylvia?" I guessed.

"How did you know?"

"I didn't, really. But you all seem to be more than just like, people who hang out together. Anyway, I won't tell anyone." I continued, "would you at least be willing to come over to our place sometimes? I think Teresa likes you, and she'd miss you if she didn't see you."

"I don't know. Not right now." She sounded really down.

After dinner the next day, I made a point of washing up in the kitchen with Aunt Edith, so it was just us two. I asked her, "you work with a lot of teenagers. If they're having sex, do their parents usually know about it?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I have a friend -- yeah, it really is a friend, not me -- and she was having sex with --" I tried to come up with something that would make it less obvious that it was me and Doris. "-- with her boyfriend regularly, and then she found out her parents had figured it out, and even though they were okay with it, she was really weirded out just because they knew. She thought parents never know unless they catch them."

She looked at me for a few minutes. I always had the feeling she knew more than she let on. "I think most parents don't want to know. But if they are willing to accept the idea, I think they can usually guess."

I went back to washing, and she went back to drying. "You know," she added, sounding like she was being very careful with what she said, "if you want to talk to me about any sexual relationships you might be having or thinking of having, my door is always open."

"You wouldn't get mad if Teresa or I told you we were thinking of having sex?"

"No, I wouldn't. I'm not going to encourage you, I think it's the kind of thing you need to decide for yourself. But if you need advice or help, or, for instance, birth control, or just a shoulder to cry on, I'm there for you. You and Teresa. Maybe you can let her know that."

That weekend, we were all over at Sylvia's, and Doris was really different. She didn't say much, and when I tried to snuggle up next to her, she didn't exactly push me away, but she didn't put her arm around me like she usually did.

"What's up, Doris?" I asked. "You aren't giving your opinion about stuff, or talking about feminism or capitalism or the environment or power or anything, like you usually do. You sound really depressed."

"I just feel like, who wants to hear the opinions of some stupid kid? I don't know anything, I just like to think I do."

We all started talking at once.

"What do you mean, 'stupid kid'?" said Sylvia. "You're really smart and you've read a lot of stuff. And you do know a lot of stuff."

"I don't. I just kid myself that I know anything, and I've fooled you all into believing it."

"That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard," said Sylvia.

"You know a lot more than I do," added Judy.

"Is this some kind of, 'I'm a girl, so I must be dumb' BS?" said Jeff. "Don't tell me you buy into that sexist crap." I'd never thought of Jeff as a feminist, so this was quite a surprise to me.

"Dor, what's going on?" said Teresa. "Why are you suddenly so down on yourself?"

She turned away from us. She looked like she was trying not to cry. Finally, she said, "I don't want to talk about it."

Suddenly she reminded me of some of the guys at West High who thought they were hot stuff. If something happened that punctured their image, they'd get morose and say stuff like, "I don't want to talk about it." Even some of the other "losers" would get like that.

"Let's leave her alone," I said. "I think we're just making her feel worse." We went back to talking about stuff like movies, or what we wanted for Christmas, or what we'd like to do for vacation, and of course griping about teachers. Sylvia told us about how the library was going to show some of her drawings. Jeff talked about the latest drama with his band, which was always on the edge of breaking up. I sat next to Doris and put my arm around her. I didn't want to bug her, but I didn't want her to feel all left alone, either.

We decided to go out for pizza, we figured Sylvia's parents had paid for our pizza too many times already. Everyone else was walking ahead of us, Doris and I were straggling behind. I stopped and look straight at Doris.

"I don't know if this will help, but I want to be honest. I think you're amazing, and someday you're going to do great things, and when I read about you or hear about you on TV, I'll be able to say to my friends, I knew her way back when. Even if you don't believe in yourself right now, we believe in you. I believe in you."

Doris got sort of a lopsided smile and said, "I guess I really do have an admirer. And, hey, you never know, maybe you won't be saying that because you'll be with me." We hugged each other and kissed.

I said, "I'm proud to be one of your admirers." Then, hand in hand, we double-timed it to catch up with the rest of them.