“Love and Lesser-known Hormones” by Alex Thornber

“She’s not short of choices is she?” I heard my Mum say to Dad after another boy’s name had been uttered over the phone, enquiring after me.  “She takes after me that way.”

It was true I guess, I wasn’t ‘short of choices’.  But I didn’t explore every choice like some girls.  I just had them open to me.  Ever since puberty, when my chest modestly filled out and my face remained entirely unblemished, boys have asked me out to the movies, the park, their brother’s car.

The most reoccurring name at that time was Tom.  But he, unlike the other boy’s, had started with a face.  The first time Mum heard the name was when Tom spoke it to her himself.  ‘Very pleased to meet you Mr and Mrs Hughes, my name is Tom’ he had said very properly one morning in the kitchen when he had come to pick me up.

“Well, thank you Tom.  Now how do you know Imogen?” I heard Mum saying through the floorboards as I scrambled to get ready.

“From college.”

“Oh I see, well isn’t that lovely dear?” she said to Dad who was no doubt shovelling Shredded Wheat into his mouth.  “So are you in the same class?” she continued.

“No,” Tom replied, “I’m in the year above.”

Then I burst into the room, and out the door, with Tom by the hand.

From then on Tom became like all the others, a name, only spoken down the phone.  For me though, Tom was scrawled all through my college books and a Polaroid of us together stood next to my bed.

Tom was the first boy I fell for, and I fell hard.

Tom was the cool kid, like you see on TV.  He never mentioned his feelings and was always bragging about ‘nailing’ me to his friends.  I never told them that we hadn’t had sex yet, let alone outside, or in any of those vulgar positions he seamed to fantasise about.

I could tell that he was getting impatient with me.

After a while he started talking like that while I was still around.  He got dirtier and it seemed like a challenge.  It hurt and it scarred me a little.  It was like he wanted me to hear it so I would know what was inevitably going to happen.

One night on the sofa, I got up from my knees and he did up his jeans and I asked,

“Are you bored of me?”

“You kiddin?  After that I love you more than ever.” He smiled

“Are we, going anywhere?”  I said.

“Sure, we can, where?” He replied drawing me closer with one arm and lifting the TV remote with the other to change the channel.

“No I mean ‘us’?” I said, taking the remote and changing over from Cribs.

“Us?”

“Yeah. Are we going to be alright?”

“Sure we are, why you worrying all of a sudden?”

I didn’t reply, I just settled into his armpit and felt him breathing next to me.  I listened hard and tried to get our breathing to synchronise.  His lungs were bigger than mine so he got more air in, and when I tried to copy my lungs got full and hurt a little.  I wondered what would happen if you just breathed in and breathed in and didn’t stop.  I imagined what it would feel like if they just burst like when a kid steps on a balloon.

Our relationship progressed by all the markers that we teenagers have at our disposal; almost all of which happened inside his small car, watching the tide.

We were in the car, at the usual point in any evening when I would do up my jeans or re set my skirt, when I suddenly whispered ‘Okay.’  Tom left me undone, turned the ignition on and sped back to his parents house as if he was late for the kickoff.  His parents were probably asleep, maybe reading, I couldn’t tell but all the lights were out and I didn’t want to ask.  He pulled his car into the drive as quietly as he could and then, so his parents would only hear one set of footsteps, carried me on his back to his room.  Later when I told my friends about it all I said it was romantic.  It wasn’t Romeo and Juliet or anything but it was pretty sweet I guess.

Upstairs and in his room he set me down right on the bed.  I pulled on his belt and he fell down on top of me.  Then we climbed under the sheets and out of our clothes and pretty soon it was over.

After, lying in the sheets I asked Tom if he loved me and he said he did.  He looked me right in the eyes when he said it and I believed him.  I would have believed anything he told me right then.  Our breathing synchronised and I felt like I finally understood the movies.  Tom played with my hair and placed delicate little kisses on my forehead and cheek.

“What’s going to happen next year?” I asked, a little surprised at myself.

“Next year?”

“Yeah, when you finish college?”

“Next year I’m getting the hell out of this place, nothing to keep me here.  I’m off to Uni or work or anything really, just away from here.”  He said like it was just talk but it felt hard and it hit me in the chest.

I said nothing.  I thought nothing.  Was I nothing?  Tom roamed his hand over my naked body like he was ready again but I wasn’t really there.  I didn’t say no, or yes I just kind of let it happen with the words ‘Nothing to keep me here’ ringing my ears.

After the second time I fell asleep and when I woke up I snuck out and walked home alone.

Inside my own bed I cried.  I felt like I had been robbed.  During arguments with my parents I would always protest ‘I’m not a child!’ and now it was true, without question.  I could never be thought of as a child again.

The next two months passed in a schedule that I couldn’t break.  I would spend Monday, Tuesday and Thursday evenings on college work, and then I would see Tom on Wednesdays and Fridays.  Every evening with Tom was the same.  He would pick me up, drive to the shore and then he would go through the routine of kissing and touching me until I gave in.  It was like because now we’d done it that first time it was guaranteed every time we saw each other.  I managed to put him off a few times but mostly he didn’t care about headaches or feeling sick.  He’d just say, ‘I know what’ll take your mind off it’ and shove his hand down my trousers.

I took up drinking and smoking, just to have a form of defence against his progression.  Whenever he would try to unbutton my jeans I would say ‘I need a smoke’ or ‘Where did I put the bottle?’ and move around.  Usually that would buy a few minutes peace while he lectured me in how it’s unattractive for a pretty girl to smoke and drink.  But after a short while Tom gave up caring, if he did in the first place.  With smoke in his face he would continue with his mission anyway.  I started looking forward to the work nights.

One night we were out later than usual.  The sky was clear and I could see the stars through the windscreen.  I wound down the window so as to hear the ocean while I stared at the stars.  I was pretending to smoke when Tom said ‘You wanna just do it here?’  I guess he thought he saw me nod, but I hadn’t been listening.  I knew what was happening when it happened but I couldn’t tell if I was all right with it or not.  I angled my head so I could still see the stars and just continued pretending.