Page 58 of XX Love Affair

Helena slowly stirred the skinny straw in her drink. “Not all of them.”

“Oh?”

“Not once, in all of our dirty pillow talk, have you asked about who took my virginity.”

“I mean… that’s usually not an interesting story.”

“Who did you lose yours to?”

Delia blushed. “Oh, so we’re doing this?”

“I just got triggered by my ex and you dragged me to a cliché speakeasy full of middle managers and giggly housewives, so yes. We are.”

Delia knocked back her drink like it had alcohol. “A boy. Bleh.”

Helena laughed. “Me too.”

“A boy from my school. He had been flirting with me for years. My mom kept pushing us together. I already knew I liked girls but thought… maybe I should try a guy first, to make sure. Also, something about it felt proper, as weird as that is to say now. Like even if you like girls, you’re supposed to be with a guy first. Don’t ask me where I got that idea. Society? Probably society.”

“So? How was it?”

“Let’s say I slept with the first girl who would have me right afterward. I desperately needed a palate cleanser.”

“The first woman I slept with was when I had turned eighteen,” Helena said. “Literally the week after. It was around the time of the soccer tournaments, but I didn’t care. I arranged something online with a lady in Tacoma and drove there on my only day off from everything. Went right to her house having only talked to her online. I told her to do whatever she wanted to me.” Helena leaned back into the bench, her body softening. “I wanted to forget… everything.”

“Caught the bug, huh?”

“Guess so. Didn’t get the chance to do anything else until I was officially finished with school. Used my graduation gift money to fly to LA. Got myself a cheap hotel room and thought about what I wanted from my life. Turned out, it was sex.”

“I see.”

“Is that weird?”

“You keep asking me that.”

“Because you make it sound like it’s weird.”

“No, you make it sound like you need my validation.”

Helena looked away, arms crossed and jaw tightening. “I don’t mean it like that.”

“Tell me about the boy who you first slept with. You glossed right over that.”

“Maybe I don’t want to now.”

“Come on, you made me tell my embarrassing tale.”

Helena found a piece of ice and crushed it between her teeth. My mother always told me not to do that. It wasn’t ladylike. It would break her teeth. It was obnoxious to hear. That last one was the only realistic excuse Helena heard. “It wasn’t a boy. It was a man.”

Delia allowed that to digest. “Oh. I see.”

There was one picture hanging on the wall. A painting of swing dancers without faces, without souls. That’s me. No face. No soul. Just vibes.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

Helena was suddenly more awake. “Why? I’m the reason it happened.”