April Shadows

I gazed at myself again and then finished dressing. If my nerves were on edge before, they were over the edge now. I thought.

  "I just hate it when men claim a woman is too sexy or too provocative as an excuse for their own overt and obnoxious behavior. If you don't look like someone's granny, they are justified in groping and even raping you. The best to me is when these husbands criticize their wives for being too obvious but just drool over someone else's wife or some other sexy- looking woman," Celia lectured.

  "Don't some women drool over men?" I asked.

  "Sure, but nowhere in proportion. Gawking, leering, and lustful eves are mainly male

  characteristics."

  Thinking about some of the girls I knew at Hickory. I wasn't prepared to agree with her. but I said nothing. After all, she was the one with experience, not me.

  Peter came out of the house the moment we turned into his driveway.

  "Anxious boy." Celia said. "He must have been waiting at the window. That's positive."

  I quickly introduced the two of them when Peter got into the car. In the shadows, he didn't quite see how I was made up or what I was wearing. Celia moved into the backseat. I was so nervous I accelerated without putting the car into reverse and almost drove into the garage door.

  "Hey, relax!" Celia cried. laughing. "Do you always have that effect on women, Peter?"

  "I don't know as I have any effect at all." he said. He kept his face forward,

  "Oh. I'm sure a good-looking young man like you has an effect on the opposite sex."

  He turned and looked at me rather than reply to her. I saw his eyes narrow as he drank me in. Then he turned away quickly, and this time. I backed out well and started away.

  "April tells me you transferred here recently, too," Celia said.

  "I've been here nearly a year," he told her.

  "Do you like it here?"

  "Yes," he said. "but I'm at home wherever I am."

  "Really? What's that mean?"

  "It means I see the earth as my home. Anywhere you go, you're under the same sky," he said.

  Celia laughed. "You haven't been to some of the places I've been, or you wouldn't be so quick to say that,"

  "Maybe not," he said. "We travel different roads, but we usually end up in the same place."

  "Very provocative." Celia continued. "I see why you're a chess expert."

  "I'm not an expert.'

  "That's not what April tells me."

  "It's all relative. She's just starting. A mediocre player looks like Mikhail Botvinnik."

  "Who?"

  "A Russian chess champion I admire," he said.

  I gazed into the rearview mirror at Celia. She was shaking her head and laughing.

  "Do you go to basketball games often?" Celia asked.

  "This is my first here," Peter told her. "And I don't think I attended more than two at my previous school."

  "It's a lot different from chess," she muttered.

  "Not really," Peter said. "Strategy is strategy."

  She began to ask him questions about his Indian heritage. I was happy when we pulled into the parking lot of the school where the game was being held. I knew what it was like to feel you were being interrogated.

  "Sorry about all that," I whispered when we got out and started toward the gymnasium entrance. There was already quite a crowd at the door.

  Peter said nothing. He didn't look at me, either.

  We entered and took our seats in the bleachers. Now that we were under the bright lights. I couldn't help feeling self- conscious again. I was waiting anxiously for some comment from Peter about my hair, my face, anything. Instead, he concentrated on the game, the players.

  "Who is your sister?" he asked.

  "Oh. I'm so stupid not pointing her out. She's number eighteen." I told him.

  He watched her warming up. "She looks strong," he said.

  "Just wait until you see her in action," Celia bragged.

  As it turned out, however, this was not one of Brenda's best games. I could see from her expressions and the way she moved at the start of the game that she was still quite upset with the coach. The plays he designed and the position she was in often caused her to be in awkward or more difficult places for her shots. The other team had a very quick series of successful plays, and as the game progressed, the distance between them and Brenda's team grew wider and wider. Twice Brenda was taken out and sat on the bench. She was there for almost the entire third period, in fact, and when she was put back in, she was raging and so aggressive she quickly fouled her opponent.

  Peter said little about it. I made some comments about Brenda's unhappiness and how it was affecting her performance. Celia kept saying, "Oh, we're in for it now,"

  When the game ended. Brenda's team had lost by twenty points.

  "Your sister is going to be fit to be tied. This is the worst. It would have been better if she hadn't been chosen." Celia said.

  She turned to us as we were leaving the gymnasium.

  "You two, just go off. I don't think it's a good time to have Peter meet Brenda."

  "Okay," I said. I was eager to be alone with Peter, anyway, and I agreed with Celia. Brenda wouldn't be good company. "I'm sorry about all this," I said as we walked to my car. "It was supposed to be a fun night. Brenda is a much better player than the Brenda you saw playing this game. She hated her coach."

  "Focusing on her dislike of him did nothing to help her," Peter said. "If a branch doesn't bend, it breaks."

  "Brenda is very serious about her career in athletics. She could be in the Olympics," I said, a little annoyed with his comment,

  "All I mean is she will have many coaches or people she dislikes, and she has to learn how to compromise and deal with it so she can still do her best," he said.

  We got into the car. It wasn't until then that I realized I didn't know where we were going.

  "You want to come to my place for a while?" I asked. "It's not much to see."

  "Then why do you want me to see it?" he asked.

  I suddenly felt so small. I could feel his attitude toward me changing. Whatever warmth there had been between us seemed lost.

  "Let's go to my house," he said. "It's my aunt's bridge night, and she's out."

  Oh, that's good, I thought, and drove out of the school parking lot. Feeling even more nervous than I had at the start of the evening. I began to talk a blue streak about Brenda's athletic achievements, her trophies and honors, the scouts who had visited in Hickory, her plans to be a physical education teacher in a college, and the possibility that she really would play in the next Olympics.

  "It's good that you have respect for your sister and are so interested in her," Peter said. "Now you must have respect for and interest in yourself." he added.

  I know he meant well, but the remark brought tears to my eyes because he sounded so critical.

  I drove into his aunt's driveway, and we got out and entered the house.

  "Would you like something to eat or drink?" he asked.

  "Just some cold water. My throat is dry from cheering, I think."

  He nodded and got me a glass of ice water and one for himself. Then we went to his room. He sat on his bed and looked at me.

  "Why did you dress like this?" he asked. "Dress like what?"

  "Like you are dressed. The makeup, the clothes. Is this who you are?"

  "I just tried to make myself look nice," I said.

  He sipped his water. "I'm just surprised," he said, putting the glass an the nightstand.

  "Don't you think I look nice?"

  "I'm not sure if nice is the right word." He patted the bed. "Relax."

  There was something about his expression that sounded alarm bells in me. I moved hesitantly to his side.

  "We really don't know all that much about each other, do we?" he asked. "Even, moment is a new discovery. It's not unlike competing against a new player in chess. You wait to see his or her moves and learn how he or she thinks. Only then can you make your
own moves wisely."

  "You can't compare everything to chess," I said.

  "Why not? The world is a great board game to me, and most people in it are merely pawns."

  He took the glass from my hand and leaned over to place it next to his own on the nightstand.

  "So, I am to discover the real you tonight, is that it?" he said, smiling lustfully and bringing his face closer to mine.

  "No. I wanted you to go to the game and see Brenda and..."

  "You talk too much about your sister," he said, and then he kissed me.

  He pulled back, grimacing at the taste on his lips.

  "That lipstick," he said. "It's on you like a few layers of mint or something."

  He leaned over to pluck some tissues out of a box and brought them to my lips, wiping hard.

  "Hey," I said, pulling back when he actually began to hurt me.

  "You don't need so much," he said. "And why did you put on so much eye makeup?"

  "I thought I looked good."

  "For a clown." he said. "You don't need it, in my opinion."

  I turned away, and he reached out and put his hand under my chin.

  "Just be yourself, April. Don't try to be anyone else."

  "I am myself!" I declared firmly.

  "Oh? Maybe you are," he said, and he kissed me again, this time bringing his hand off my shoulder and alongside my arm.

  The kiss was longer and harder. He then kissed me on my neck and moved his hand over my arm and then over my breast, pressing himself against me as he did so.

  I lay back on the bed, and he surprised me by lifting my sweater and kissing me on my stomach, moving the sweater up to make a path for his lips. my heart was thumping so hard I was sure he could feel the beat in his face. When Peter reached behind to undo my bra, the memory of Luke's sexual attack came rushing back. For a moment. I actually saw Luke's face instead of Peter's. I couldn't help it. I began pushing him away.

  "What is it? What's wrong?" he demanded.

  "I can't. I... can't." I said, pulling my sweater down.

  He got up and glared down at me, his face filling with blood. He looked more embarrassed than I was. . .

  "You know, there is a name for Girls who do what you do," he said, quickly exchanging

  humiliation for anger.

  "What did I do?" I wailed.

  "You take me home after school, you kiss me after meeting me only twice, you invite me out with you and dress like this, and then you come to my house, and when I try to be intimate with you, you push me away. You're playing with me," he accused.

  "No. I don't mean to. I'm sorry."

  "Forget it," he said, turning away. "You'd better leave. My aunt might be home soon, and she might not like me bringing a girl here at night."

  "Don't be angry at me, Peter,"

  "I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at myself," he said. "Go on home. It's better if you go," he insisted.

  I rose, the tears floating over my eves now finding the strength to climb over my lids and streak down my cheeks. He kept his back to me.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I really am."

  He said nothing, and the way he kept his shoulders up made me think every word I said, my very presence, was unpleasant for him.

  "Good night." I mumbled, and hurried out of his house.

  Just as I was opening the car door, another car pulled up beside mine. I saw his aunt looking at me with great interest. She was a dark-haired woman with a face rounder and more chubby than mine. Before she could get out of her car and ask me anything, I got into mine, started the engine, and backed out of the driveway. The tires squealed as I accelerated and pulled away.

  I don't know how I drove home without getting lost or getting into an accident. I was crying so hard at one traffic light that I missed the change, and the drivers in four cars behind me sounded their horns. The angry blasts shot me forward again.

  Neither Brenda nor Celia was home when I arrived, which pleased me. I hurried into my small apartment and scrubbed every bit of makeup off my face. I took off Celia's sweater and bra and sprawled on my bed, burying my face in the pillow to stop my sobbing. All I could see in my mind was Peter's look of condemnation and disgust.

  Why had I pushed him away so hard and so frantically? Why couldn't I see him and not Luke? Why had I gone to his home, to his room. if I didn't want him to kiss me and make love to me? My own actions confused me as much as I imagined they confused him. I'm such a little idiot, I thought.I'll never be happy.

  I didn't fall asleep. I just lay there staring at the ugly bland wall with the glow of my small ceiling fixture spilling gauzelike shadows down to the floor. I felt numb, almost as if I had left my own body, a body I had come to despise. Not only was my body awkward and heavy, it was full of betrayal. It let me dress it up so I could be optimistic about Peter's affections toward me, and then as soon as he showed desire, my body reacted with reflexes of rejection. It snapped like a body of rubber bands to retreat from his touch, his kiss, his caresses. What good was a body like mine? If I could take a knife and trim it down like a piece of soap being sculpted. I would. I was raging inside, my hands fisted, my teeth clenched, my eves bulzing with anger.

  Suddenly, there was a soft knock on my door. At first. I thought it was in my imagination, but I heard it again and again, and then I heard Celia call.

  "April?"

  "What?"

  She opened the door and entered. I forgot I was lying on my bed naked. She stood there a moment staring at me and then closed the door softly.

  "What happened?"

  I turned my head away. "I made a fool of myself." I mumbled.

  She came to the bed and sat beside me, putting her hand on my shoulder,

  "How? Why? Everything seemed all right."

  "It wasn't. Right from the start, it wasn't," I cried through my tears. "I shouldn't have dressed like that. He thought I was... was a tramp."

  "Oh, that's ridiculous. You looked so attractive. Maybe he's just not right for you. This could have been a good thing. April.

  "I had such a time with your sister,'" she continued. "I've seen her uptight before, but not like this. It took all this time to calm her down.

  Apparently, she had some words with the coach afterward, too. She didn't want anything to eat. She drank too much. I just left her heaving in the bathroom.

  "So, tell me what happened. exactly. Where did you go after the game?"

  I sighed, sucked in my breath, and turned toward her. "I asked him if he wanted to come here, but he didn't. We went to his house. His aunt wasn't home yet."

  "Oh. So he invited you to his home."

  "Only to bawl me out and then to... to..."

  "To do you, as they say." she filled in, and twisted her lips with sarcasm. "Take advantage?"

  "He thought it was what I wanted. I thought it was. too."

  "So, what happened?"

  "I couldn't... I panicked. I... I don't know."

  "You're at the age when those feelings are so confusing," she said, her voice softening. "Your body and your mind can easily be on two different tracks, going in different directions. I remember too well having experiences just like the one you had tonight."

  "I doubt it."

  "Oh, no. There's nothing unusual about what you've just gone through. April. You're actually just exploring, discovering. Don't be discouraged,"

  "Some exploration. I practically leaped out of my skin when he started to... to really touch me."

  "It just wasn't the right fit," she said, smiling at me, brushing my hair away from my forehead. "Except for yourself and that terrible incident you experienced back in Hickory with those disgusting boys and that girl, no one has ever touched you in these places, right?"

  I nodded.

  "First, there is the surprise and then the confusion about how you should react. Everyone you speak to and everything you read tells you one thing, and then, perhaps, you discover something new about yourself you never expected. Am I right?'


  "Yes," I said. nodding.

  She smiled. "The worst thing is, some parents, many people, self-important religious people, especially, tell you these feelings are evil. They make you think your body is dirty for having these feelings. They lay such guilt on you, which only makes it all more confusing and in the end drives people crazy or into doing things that are bad for them. You must not be afraid of yourself," she said.

  She stroked my cheeks and then leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. "In your face. I see myself as a young girl," she told me.

  She put her hand on my neck and squeezed between my neck and shoulder. "You're so tight. Your body is like a brick right now."

  "I know," I said.

  "Close your eyes, relax. Let me help you the way I help your sister." she said, and moved so she could help me into a sitting position while she massaged my neck and shoulders. "How's that feel?"

  "Good," I said.

  "Sure it does." She surprised me by kissing my neck. "Just relax. Let yourself drift. Let your body soak in its own capacity for pleasure and comfort,"

  She spoke so softly, her words and voice hypnotizing. I did relax. Her hands moved over my shoulders. kneading my muscles, softening where I was hard and tight.

  'Did he touch you here?" she asked, her fingers moving down over my breasts to my nipples. They hardened instantly.

  "Yes."

  "And that's when you pushed him away?"

  "Yes."

  "But right now, you don't want to push me away, do you?"

  I thought I was losing my ability to breathe. I couldn't even speak. Her fingers were over and under my breasts, her lips grazing my neck.

  "You need to know what this feels like. You need to be prepared," she said. "Just relax. Try to enjoy the feelings. You do enjoy them, don't you?"

  I still didn't speak. Confusion made me mute.

  She moved so I would lie back again, and then she lifted her blouse, undid her own bra, and sat beside me again. I was unable to speak or take my eyes from her breasts. She lifted my hand and brought it to her breast, moving it over her nipple. My arm tightened. but I didn't pull my hand away.

  She moaned. "See? See how this can be wonderful if the match is comfortable. You weren't comfortable with him."

  I wanted to tell her that wasn't it. I wanted to tell her how I had relived Luke's attack on me and how that had most to do with it, but she was moving over me. kissing me where Luke had kissed me, until she was nearly down to the small of my stomach.