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.We drive to the pond.We pull in and the metal gate is open.That’s odd.Sadie cautiously drives down the dirt road and slows down as we near the water.We both look around to see what else has happened.That’s when we see a row of property stakes stuck in the hillside to our left.Each one has a bright pink ribbon tied to the top.“Here they come,” Sadie murmurs.I say nothing.But I stare at them, too.The stakes.The concept of private property.They are coming.And when they’re done, there will be no pond, no trees, no nothing—just spanky new houses, with chemical lawns and SUVs parked out front.Sadie turns off the engine and we sit for a moment.Frogs croak in the warm night.The property stakes seem to change the mood between us.I still want to kiss her.But there’s something I want to do first.We get out of the car.Sadie stands by her door, her arms crossed.I go after the stakes.I hop over the ditch, crawl up the muddy hill, and try to yank the top stake out of the ground.It won’t come out.I have to work it back and forth.While I’m doing that, Sadie crawls up the hill and tries pulling on one herself.I finally pull mine out, then break another one, then pull out two more.Sadie has managed to pull out a couple as well.When we’ve uprooted all of them, we throw them in the ditch.“That’s not going to do much,” Sadie says, wiping the dirt off her hands.“Yeah, but it feels good,” I say back.We both jump back over the ditch.We walk back toward the car.Both our shoes are caked with mud.I try to kick the mud off mine.That’s when I notice Sadie watching me.She’s staring at me.“What?” I say.“Nothing,” she answers.“You don’t approve of my methods?”“Have you ever approved of mine?”I smile.I go back to my shoes.I scrape the mud off with a stick.She holds her foot out and I scrape the mud off hers, too.She steadies herself by gripping my shoulder.We are standing very close.I hold her ankle.I clean her shoe.When I stand up, she’s there, those blue eyes are watching me, waiting for me in the dark.I kiss her.She is ready for it this time.She welcomes it.She kisses me back.We separate briefly, letting the weight of what is happening move through us.Then I slip my hands inside her coat, grip the curve of her waist, pull her closer still.Our foreheads rest together.We kiss more, slowly, intimately, breathing each other’s air.Eventually, we end up in the Camry, in the backseat.We really start to make out then.She gets like I’ve never seen her, breathless and pressing against me.I am getting like that, too.We’re older now; we know what we want.“This is getting a little intense,” she finally gasps, in the quiet of the backseat.“I know,” I breathe.“Should we stop?”“I don’t know.”“I feel like…, ” she whispers.“Like maybe…”We keep going.We go and go and go.“Do you have something?” I finally say, my shirt off, my face damp and hot.“What do you mean?”“You know.”“I don’t—”“We need something.”She sighs.She breathes.“In my coat.Hand me my coat.”She has a condom in her coat.This is a huge surprise.But I say nothing.I reach into the front seat, find the coat, and hand it to her.She untangles it, digs through the pocket.She finds the condom.She hands it to me.I fumble with the plastic wrapper.I can’t open it.“Here.” She takes it from me, tears it open, and hands it back.I fumble with it more.She watches me.“Is it on right?”“I don’t know,” I gasp.“It has to be on right.”“I think it is—”She checks it.It’s okay.She puts her head back.“Oh God,” she whispers to herself.We do it.I kiss her while we do it.I hold her, I stroke her hair.I lose myself in her.I can’t believe how good it feels.I am lost to the world.I am in another place…Afterward, a deep silence settles over us.I lift my head and stare into her eyes.I touch her flushed face, stroke her mussed hair, kiss the side of her cheek.I rest my head on her shoulder and she strokes my neck.Outside, the pond sits silently, waiting to be drained.PART6AFTERMATHThe next morning, I wake up in my bed.It’s Saturday morning.I stare at the ceiling.I’m not a virgin anymore.I lift my head and look around my room.Everything looks pretty much the same.Same posters.Same Post-it notes stuck to the wall over my desk.Same dirty clothes spilling out of the closet.I look at my arm, at the back of my hand [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]