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June 1, 2012
I knew I had to call home. My parents had never imposed a curfew, but I'd never not come home before, even if that meant unlocking the front door as quietly as I could at three a.m. to find my father sitting in the front room reading some proofs and him saying, "I hope you had a good time. I'm glad you're back, safe."
My parents had never imposed a curfew, but I'd never not come home before.
My cell phone had died, too, so I had to use Lauren's to call home. And as my parents' phone rang, I prayed to God: "Hey, man, I haven't asked you for too much recently and I know we don't talk a lot, but you know I'm listening and if you could, this time, would you hear me out? I realize that this is an emergency prayer that I could've used on having my lights work, but I'm here now; so could you please, please, please not have anyone pick up, so I can leave a message and my folks won't worry?"
The machine turned on and I rushed, "Hey, it's Chris. My lights aren't working on my car. It runs. I'm okay. I'm at Lauren's and I'm going to spend the night here. She has another bed I can sleep in. Oh, and my cell phone died. I'll be home in the morning. Love you. Bye."
Lauren heard my message and said that there was another bed in her dad's office. We cleared off some papers from the blanket of the single bed. I took off my shoes as if I were going to sleep. Lauren said she was going to watch an episode of Six Feet Under and that I could join her in her room.
Next to each other on Lauren's bed, we watched the screen. Lauren reached out and took my hand, rubbing my fingers. She'd brushed her teeth and changed into short-shorts and out of her bra, and put on a loose t-shirt. I thought how less than an hour ago we had been messing around and I had been ready to sleep with her, but I hadn't even thought about falling asleep with her. I'd never stayed and slept the whole night with a girl before.
My father and I had kept a silent agreement that I would come home to sleep in my own bed. I knew in the morning I would have to face my father. Even if I explained that there had been a boundary, and that I thought he should be proud of me, I knew I wouldn't be telling the whole truth: that I didn't agree with him about holding yourself back from someone you loved. I was frantic thinking of what I would say.
Lauren squeezed my hand, checking on me. My eyes were closed. I knew tomorrow would come, but I was comfortable right then and there. I was content. Then Lauren straddled me. I kept my eyes shut. She slid my glasses off of my face as gently as a goodnight kiss.
In the night, I heard a small phht. Then a sigh. And I realized that Lauren had just farted. Our relationship had ended for the first time after I had told Lauren that I needed her to open up and Lauren said she didn't think she could let me in any further. Lauren farting wasn't exactly what I wanted, but nonetheless, there was a certain sweetness to hearing it, and I realized how vulnerable sleeping together was for both of us.
A fiesta ringtone went off. I didn't know where I was. I had all my clothes on and I was under a blanket on a bed that wasn't mine. Something was shuffling next to me. Everything was blurry without my glasses. I squinted in the hazy sunrise coming through some blinds and snatched my frames from a nightstand. As I put my glasses on a TV came into focus. Then I turned to Lauren. Her hair was a hot mess of bedhead.
"Good morning," I said as I tucked one of her curly bangs behind her ear and then kissed her forehead.
"Five more minutes," Lauren said and she turned off her alarm.
I spooned Lauren while rubbing her back. She told me that she had dreamed that she had been deaf, but then was trying to convince a guy that she could actually hear. I decided that her dream was about us.
At her front door, I turned around to Lauren and we kissed, tasting the coffee off each other's tongues. I sat in my car — lingering — thinking how grown up all of that was.
When I got home my father asked me, "So, your lights aren't working?" I said, "Yeah," and showed my father the switch that didn't work. I felt the need to prove it to him. He said I should get it fixed so I would be safe. And that was it.
He hadn't ever asked me what was happening: how Lauren and I were doing when we first got together, or how I was after it fell apart, or anything about me and her trying again. And I almost wished my father had asked me what happened, because I thought that if he wasn't going to ask then, he wasn't going to ask me ever. If he'd said something, maybe we could have talked about the thrill of sleeping with someone you love — about waking up next to someone in the confusion of the morning sun, and realizing you're still there with them, and wanting to stay with them for just five more minutes, always just a little longer.
Want to meet someone to curl up with? Meet them on Nerve.
Commentarium (17 Comments)
Incredible story. I know the feeling of being completely in love, and yet the painful disconnect, not being able to talk to a parent about it.
How humiliating for your father to print something like this and make him so recognizable as you essentially abuse his rules and trust. You sound like quite the catch.
You mean printing something not nearly as revealing as the detailed personal information, complete with addresses, phone numbers, etc., that his father's ilk publish to encourage stalking of doctors who provide legitimate and legal medical services? Maybe if more of these assholes got outed they'd stop throwing stones at glass houses.
Ignore these folks - it was well-written and reflective; nice job.
Beautiful, sad, heartfelt. She must have been someone pretty special.
This was a beautiful piece.
Well written piece.
Absolutely gorgeous, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. This segment is growing on me more and more!
I loved this; truly a gorgeous portrait of intimacy.
... that they'll have the conversation now, with this all so public and all. Perhaps this is what it took for the writer to get his Dad's full attention.
But I think this is gutsy, as well as nuanced and well written.
Hang in there, sport. I suspect a bit of heavy weather is coming your way but you're on a good track.
Somehow I doubt that his dad is reading Nerve.
This was lovely.
No, but "the copy coordinator at Campus Crusade for Christ's corporate magazine Worldwide Challenge" might know someone who does read Nerve (whether it's a friend or an apostate who likes to stir shit up). For the author's sake, I hope that when he and his dad eventually have that frank conversation they're bound to have, it's not prompted by a forwarded URL.
The author is clearly old enough, mature enough and sensible enough to make his own decisions about with whom to sleep, and whether he wants to do it now or after he's married. He doesn't need a conversation with his father, because he knows exactly what his father would say. Maybe his father actually knows this, and that's why his father didn't say anything.
I enjoyed this. Wish it were longer. The reflective beginning threw me off a bit but it still worked. These kind of stories make it easier for people to figure out how to make those difficult emotional-sexual-spiritual choices a lot better than any abstinence or sex ed program ever would. Thanks!
I liked this a lot. I think it was a great piece. My parents actually get Worldwide Challenge and frequently give to Campus Crusade. I've flipped through it a couple times.
Why is it that people are taking the father's job/beliefs/identity and looming it over the story? Don't do the story an injustice by re-imagining its meaning.
This is beautiful and it's sweetly complex--this is not a jump off for our political beliefs.
Loved this line: "I realize that this is an emergency prayer that I could've used on having my lights work"