Top/Bottom

     Becky Taylor tried to fly past her father when she heard the car beep. “See you.”
        “Not so fast, young lady! Where’re you going?”
        “Dad, I’m late. The guys are waiting.” Becky cringed. Wrong word.
        “What guys?”
        “Paula, Katie, the crowd.”
        Jim Taylor turned in his chair to peek out the window at Paula Manning's red Nissan. “They aren’t guys, Becky.”
        She let out an exasperated sigh, and her father turned from the window and looked at her.
        “Becky Taylor, what's that purple all over your lips!”
        Becky planted her hands on her hips. She had been planting her hands on her hips like that since she was two years old. As she did, her little cotton top rode up and exposed her navel. She quickly dropped her arms.
        “If you think you’re going out half dressed, think again. I’ll not have a daughter of mine prancing around the neighborhood with her…with her belly sticking out!”
        The teen's hands were back on her hips. “My belly's not sticking out.”
        “Upstairs and change. And wipe that goo off your face!”
        “Mom.” The car honked again. “Mom!”
        Nancy Taylor came from the kitchen drying her hands on a towel.
        “Mom, what's wrong with this outfit? Daddy's never happy unless I look like a geek.”
        Becky watched her mother's eyes seek out her father's. “Go change,” her mother said softly
        “Mo-om!”
        “Go change!”
        Becky gave her mother a hurt look, then stomped upstairs, but not too loudly. When she got to her room, she tore off her top, threw it on the floor, and ransacked her drawers. She took out the green tank she had previously borrowed from Paula and pulled it over her head, then went to the mirror.
        “Hi Raggedy,” she said, pushing her doll aside to find her comb. “Boy are you lucky you don’t have parents to boss you around all the time.”
        The doll slumped over and Becky readjusted it so it sat upright against the corner of the mirror. The doll was old and worn, with a tear above one eye. Still, it was the only doll she hadn’t either thrown away or given to the Children's Hospital in town. Paula said it was because Becky was still a child at heart. Becky giggled. What would Paula think now, if she heard Becky talking to it?
        She heard the car honk again and quickly combed her hair. At once, Becky's eyes went to her mouth. They always did. She wished her lips weren’t so big, so clown-like. Sometimes she’d look at herself and think of a circus. Her mother said she was pretty, but mothers couldn’t be trusted. They always said dumb things like that, as though it was their job or something. She once heard Mary Lou Potter's mom tell Mary Lou she had the prettiest face of all the girls in her class. Mary Lou Potter? The girl had to be at least one hundred pounds overweight. Just proved her point. Mothers lie. So why did Becky believe Skip when he told her she was pretty? Because Skip wasn’t her mom, and guys don’t lie about a girl's looks…unless. But that was another matter.
        From the top of the stairs, Becky could see the back of her father's chair. She thought of bolting down the steps and straight out the door, but stopped herself when she heard her mother's voice. “She's seventeen,” Becky heard her mother say. “You need to give her some slack.”
       Becky heard the snap of her father's Gazette. “She's pretty like you, Nanc, and pretty's not an asset. Becky’ll find that out. Flowers attract bees and bees are only interested in gathering pollen for their own use.”
        Becky backed away from the stairs and pressed herself against the wall.
        “No matter how hard you try, you’re not going to be able to stop her from growing up. You have to start letting go. She's seventeen.”
        “You were only eighteen, remember?”
        “We’re talking about Becky.”
        “You want your daughter going out looking like a trollop?”
        “She wants to fit in. All the kids dress like that.”
        “Like hookers?”
        Becky bit into her lip.
        “Oh for heaven's sake, Jim.”
        “I don’t think we should be reminding heaven, do you? An apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Nanc.”
        “Becky's not me.”
        “No. Becky's going to college.”
        Becky remained pressed against the wall for several minutes after the conversation ended. Only when she heard the noise of pots and pans banging in the kitchen did she slink down the stairs and out the door. Top/Bottom I thought you'd never come!” Paula Manning twisted around as Becky pushed a pile of books from the leather back seat onto the floor, and slipped in. Becky saw Paula's eyebrows raise when she recognized the wrinkled green tank top. “What took so long?”
       “My dad.”
       “Boy, am I glad my dad's not a pain,” Kate Lawrence said.
       “Fasten your seat belt, girls!” Paula put the car in reverse and screeched out of the driveway and into the street.
       “Did you have to do that?” Becky said, watching her father press against the window. “My dad's just looking for an excuse to tell me I can’t go out with you anymore…ever since…boy were you stupid!”
       Paula turned up the radio, and the loud rock music made the car vibrate. “My dad didn’t make a big thing out of it. Why should yours?”
       “Could you turn that down?” Becky said, and watched Paula grudgingly comply.
       “I still can’t believe you and Denny did it in the school parking lot,” Kate said. “I must admit that took guts.”
       “Yeah, I think I surprised even Denny.”
       “It was just plain stupid,” Becky said. “Why do you think you’re having so much trouble getting into college?”
       “Because I have a 1.85 grade average,” Paula said.
       “Exactly, and when your average is so low, colleges look even harder at everything else: your club participation, your extracurricular activities—”
       Both Paula and Kate laughed.
       “Now with that suspension on your record, well…you really messed up.”
       “So kind of you, Miss Prim-and-Proper, to share that with us,” Paula said. “Of course you don’t see me uptight. In fact, the only one uptight about this whole thing is you. Now why do you suppose that is?”
       “You should just do it, Becky, and get it over with,” Kate said. “I mean, Skip's a great guy. He's good looking, popular, a basketball star. What more do you want? And believe me, if you don’t wise up you’re not going to keep him interested long. There are plenty of girls waiting to take your place.”
       “Right. And who's been complaining about Skip's inattention, lately?” Paula said. “You want him to start writing those love notes again, don’t you? And walk you to your classes like he used to?”
       “You have to do it sooner or later. I mean, you can’t stay a virgin forever,” Kate said. 
       “Why don’t you two try minding your own business?” Becky chewed her lip.
       “Listen to me, girl,” Paula said, “You better make that boy happy or else.”
       “You’re sickening, both of you. That's all you ever talk about, guys and sex. Hello! There's a big world out there. Other things to think about. Why don’t you girls grow up?” 
       “Grow up?” Paul turned her attention from the road to look at her friend. “Grow up? Look who's talking. You want to be a virgin forever?”
       Kate poked Paula's arm. “Look at the road when you’re driving.”
       Paula made a face, then turned around. “I think you and Mary Lou Potter are the only virgins left in our class.”
       “I don’t think so!”
       Kate laughed. “Well practically, and you don’t want to be beaten out by a room divider do you?”
       “Stop calling Mary Lou that.”
       “Okay, okay,” Kate said. “But listen to Paula. She's giving you good advice.” Top/Bottom Thor stopped by the small foyer table and dropped his keys into a large crystal dish, then scanned the pile of mail. Bills. Was there no end to them? He could hear the TV blasting in the theater room and at once noticed his headache was worse.
       “Teresa, lower that TV, will you?” Thor shouted, already on his way up to the bedroom. To his surprise, he saw his pretty, dark-haired wife suddenly appear out of the kitchen. The startled look on her face told him she had not heard him come in.
       “You’re home!”
       “Yeah, just got in. I’d appreciate it if you’d lower that TV. I don’t know why you like everything so loud. It's making my head split.” Thor noticed how shapely his wife looked in her silk loungewear. When he saw the bag of fruit in her hand, he frowned. “Going to see Eric?”
       Teresa nodded. “I miss him. It's been over a month.”
       “Don’t try to justify it.”
       “Why do you make it sound so wrong every time I want to go visit my son…our son?”
       “No, you had it right the first time, Teresa. You think Eric is only yours, that only you care about him.”
       “You want to come? You haven’t been to Oxlee in ages.”
       “You know that's impossible. Who’ll run my clinics?”
       “That's what I thought.” Teresa patted the fruit with one hand. “Wish I could eat heavier during the drive, but it makes me so sleepy.”
       “You coddle him, you know that.”
       Teresa sighed and hugged the bag to her chest. “You can’t stick a little boy in boarding school and just leave him there. It gets so…so lonely.”
        “For you or him?”
        “He's still a little boy. He needs—”
        “He needs to grow up. In a few years he’ll be a teenager, and he's been boarding since he was what…seven? You’d think he’d be used to it by now. Maybe if you didn’t go visit him every month he’d get a chance to acclimate.” Thor saw the familiar tears well up in his wife's eyes.
        “I’m lonely, Thor. My son's a hundred miles away…you won’t let me work. What have I got—”
        “I’m not killing myself six days a week so that my wife can go out and work! Look at this house, just look at it, Teresa! Plenty of women would commit murder to have a house like this. I’ve given you everything you could possibly want, and then some. Crying out loud! You’re just like all the other ungrateful women I see every day. What do you want from me?”
        Teresa wiped the tears with the back of her hand. “You, Thor. I want you. But you’re never home.”
        “Oh, now it's my fault that you’re not happy. Is that it? I slave day and night and it's still not enough.”
        “Things aren’t enough. There's a difference.”
        “You can’t have it both ways. I just don’t have the time to give you everything.”
        Teresa smiled sadly. “You have time for the others though, don’t you, Thor? Time for all those other nameless, pretty business associates.”
        “Are you going to start that again?”
        “I didn’t start this, Thor. You did. With you lipstick-smeared shirts, with bills for perfume and jewelry I’ve never seen, with late-night phone calls from women like Julie—whatshername—and she's told me plenty, Thor. She's really given me an earful. Shall I go on?”
        “Suit yourself. But I don’t plan on listening. I’m tired. I’m going upstairs to change, then going for a swim.”
        “That's right. Your ten laps. Must not forget to do your ten laps.” Teresa blotted her eyes with her hand. “Is that where you were tonight, Thor? With another woman?”
        Thor stopped in his tracks and looked down the staircase at his wife. “No, I was working.”
        “I love you, Thor. I still love you, even after …after everything. But I don’t think I can go on like this much longer. You’ve changed. Your work has changed you. I know your heart has been broken, I do know, Thor. You’ve broken your own heart with the things you’ve done. And you’ve broken mine, and you keep breaking it and I keep letting you. But I can’t take much more. Maybe I’m foolish to worry about you, all things considered. But I do worry. I do. How will you manage when I’m gone…when I’m gone and you’re all alone?”
        Thor smiled down at his wife and blew a kiss. “If I don’t see you before you leave in the morning, be careful on Hunter Mountain, especially around the lake area. You know how I hate you traveling that stretch by yourself. Maybe when they open the new interstate, the drive will be easier. But, just be careful, okay?”
        Teresa nodded, not returning the smile, then walked sadly toward the kitchen.

As soon as the car pulled into the parking lot of Brockston's Convenience Store, Becky could see that Skip was ticked. She watched him stride to the car with those long legs of his, stiff and wary like a soldier marching into combat. In the background, Becky could see two of Skip's friends watching, snickering.
        “Sorry.” Becky leaped out of the car and threw her arms around Skip, then gave him a big kiss, the kind she reserved for more private moments. She hoped it would make him look good in front of his friends.
        At once she could feel his body relax. And when they finally parted, she could see his eyes, soft and misty, looking at her the way they used to.
        “What took you?”
        “My dad.”
        “I still don’t know why we have to sneak out like this. Why don’t your parents like me?”
        “They don’t even know you, and because it's easier.”
        “It makes me feel like a jerk. Like I’m not good enough or something.”
        “Look, it's not about you, okay? It's my dad. He still thinks I’m a little girl. He's not ready for all this. Believe me, fifteen minutes of being grilled by him and you’d understand why I’m taking the short cut.”
        “Well, okay, but it still makes me feel like some kind of creep. Are we going to have to sneak out on prom night too?”
        “Are you taking me?”
        “Who else?”
        Becky shrugged and tried to look nonchalant, tried to keep the joy she felt from leaping out of her and making her jump up and down like an idiot.
        Skip pulled out a paper from his jeans pocket and glanced back at his friends. “Ah…do you think you’d like to go to the Teen Health Conference with me?”
        “What's that?”
        “You didn’t get the flyer?”
        Becky shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t remember.”
        Skip looked back again at his friends then at the paper in his hands. “Ah…I think it might be good for us…I mean…”
        “What are they doing?” Becky nodded toward the two boys lurking in the shadow of Brockston's. “Why are they acting like idiots and why are they here? I thought it was going to be just you and me.”
        Skip looked over at the red Nissan. Paula and Kate were still sitting inside, watching them. “I could ask the same question.”
        Becky put her hands on her hips. “Alright, Skip. What's the deal? What's going on?”
        “Nothing. I mean…we just thought that this conference might do you some good. That's all.”
        “We? As in your idiot friends back there?”
        “Yes, and as in your dumb friends over here.”
        Beck yanked the paper from Skip's hands. “What's this conference all about?”
        Skip moved closer and put his arm around her. “It's great, really great. I went last year. It's like a field trip, put out by Planned Parenthood. You get out of school for the day and the conference is over by 1:30. It's at a really nice hotel, and you get breakfast and lunch.”
        “And?”
        “And…and all you have to do is sit through a few lectures.”
        “About sex education and condom use? I’ve already learned about that stuff in health.”
        “Well, maybe you need to hear it again. Maybe you’re not comfortable with it all and need to be reassured.”
        Becky glared at her friends and then at the two tall shadows against the building. “Was this a group decision?”
        “Ah…well, we’re just trying to help, Becky, that's all. You seem so uptight about it, we all thought that maybe in a nice environment, over a little lunch, you’d, you know…see things differently.”
        “Is that what you all thought?” Becky fought back the tears and her anger. “It gives me such a nice warm feeling knowing that all of you sat around discussing this. Discussing me, like I was some kind of mental case.”
        Skip drew her closer. “It wasn’t like that at all. It's just that we think you need a little help…to get through this. I mean, you’re a senior and we’ve been going out three months, and you still freeze like a glacier. A little help to get you through this, that's all you need. You’ll see. Top/Bottom

Becky tiptoed into her room, then closed the door before turning on the light. She didn’t know why she bothered. She was sure her father was up anyway. He never fell asleep until she came home.
       She pulled off her clothes, threw them in a pile on the floor, and put on her pajamas. As she brushed her long, silky, black hair, she studied her face. The only good feature she could see was her complexion. Paula once told Becky her skin was “to die for.”
       That was one consolation anyway. Still, it didn’t make up for those lips of hers. She tossed the brush onto the cluttered dresser and glanced at her Raggedy Ann.
        “Boy, do you have the life, just sitting on my dresser all day and nobody telling you to grow up.”
        With a sigh, she pulled her diary from the middle drawer. She opened it, found her pen, then threw herself on the bed and began to write.

     Dear Diary,

     I saw Skip tonight. I don’t think he's going to dump me after all. Not yet, at least. And just when I was getting used to the idea. I never thought being in love could be so terrible. It's like playing chicken with a bus, seeing if it will run you over or if you’ll jump out of the way, instead. I figure either way you lose, not the bus. So why do people play?

Skip thinks I have a problem with sex. So do all my friends…and his. I never thought I did. Now I’m not so sure. I let him do things tonight that I never let him do before, but not the real thing, not the thing that really mattered to him. I wanted to. I want to do everything I can to please him, to make him happy. But I’m not ready for all of it. At least I think that's the reason. I don’t know anymore. I’m so confused. I’m going to college next year. Shouldn’t I be over this silly notion that virginity means something? There can only be one ‘first time.’ Should that be with Skip? Will we last? Does it even matter? It seems like I’m getting stupider with age. Why can’t I make sense if this? Or is it supposed to make sense? The whole virginity thing is getting old, anyway. I’m tired of it. It doesn’t mean anything. So why can’t I throw it away like some useless outgrown toy? Maybe for the same reason I can’t throw Raggedy away. Maybe I’m afraid to grow up like Paula and Kate say. I don’t know. But why is it so wrong to be a virgin? I think everyone's right. I really am afraid to grow up. I just wish I wasn’t so confused.

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