Thanksgiving break is nearly over. Life in her tiny home town isn't all bad, but nonetheless Dana can't wait to get back to school. It's been a week since she last got laid, and a girl has needs. Randy gets an enjoyable surprise, and Dana discovers a new admirer...
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dana glanced up from her phone as everyone in the sanctuary stood. She hastily dropped it in her purse and stood, picking up the hymnal by her side. She opened it to a random page and pretended to sing along with the rest of the congregation. Fortunately, only a handful of other young people were in the balcony with her, unlikely to notice and certain not to care that she wasn't paying attention.
Her mother wasn't giving her the evil eye. That was something. From her place at the piano at the front of the sanctuary, she was ideally situated to keep an eye on goings-on up in the balcony. Probably best to leave the phone in her purse.
There was nothing to see on it anyhow. Service was spotty at best in her one-horse home town. She'd been scrolling through old text messages, especially the ones from Randy. She really ought to delete some of them. Her mother's reaction to seeing some of them didn't bear thinking about.
The song came to an end. Dana smoothed her skirt as she sat, grateful that the service was half over. She hadn't missed wearing church clothes at all. Especially pantyhose. Or the stifling long-sleeved blouse.
Dana paid no attention to the minister's sermon, choosing instead to calculate how much longer she'd be trapped here. Another half hour or so and the service would be over. Thank god.
Then the short trip back home, and she could change into casual clothes before lunch. With luck, she could be on the road back to school by two. Then she'd be able to breathe again, even facing four hours on the road. Maybe four and a half.
Her Thanksgiving break hadn't felt much like a break. More like going undercover in hostile territory. She glanced down, smiling to herself, thinking about the deepest, darkest, most explosive secret she possessed.
* * *
"Zoe, do you know anyone with a car we could borrow?" Dana had dithered over the question for several minutes before asking it.
After cleaning up from their mutual masturbation session, Zoe and Dana had settled in to do some overdue studying. Zoe was still powering through her reading assignments, but Dana's attention had flagged, and she'd begun surfing the internet. Idly, at first, but soon with purpose.
Zoe looked up from her laptop. She blinked a couple of times and Dana could practically
see
her shifting mental gears. "A car?"
Dana gestured at her laptop. "I—I've been exploring my options. For birth control, I mean. I can make an appointment for Monday afternoon. With...a clinic."
Zoe had urged her more than once to consider some kind of birth control besides condoms. Dana had been fascinated by the variety of options Zoe had mentioned, most of which she knew little about if she'd heard of them at all. While Zoe had continued studying, Dana had continued researching on her options.
"Why a car?" Zoe asked. "The student health center provides birth control."
"I know." That had been the first place Dana investigated. "But...they only provide birth control pills."
"And you don't want pills?"
"God, no!"
Zoe smiled. "Well, that's definite. I suspect I know why. Privacy?"
Dana nodded. "I don't even want to think about how my mom would react if she found out I was taking birth control."
"I understand. Well, if that's a serious concern, that takes a lot of options off the table. What did you decide on?"
"You made a good case for an IUD," Dana replied. She'd studied the subject intently. Birth control pills were not an option. For the same reason—the possibility of her mother discovering them—neither was a diaphragm, cervical cap, sponge or spermicide. Nor was she willing to risk a patch or implant. That didn't leave a lot of options.
"It's true, I like my IUD," Zoe said. "But keeping it a secret from your mom shouldn't be the only reason you get one."
"It's not," Dana said, perhaps a bit sharply. "I mean, I've thought about it a lot since we talked. I want something very reliable, and something I don't have to mess with before I have sex. So most of the things I'd have to worry about keeping hidden from my mom are things I wouldn't want anyway."
Dana shifted in her chair, mildly uncomfortable about revealing her thought process. Still, she was able to have the conversation with Zoe. "Also, I want something I don't even have to think about. An IUD would be good for years and it's always there. I like that."
"Okay," Zoe said, "it sounds like you've thought it through. And you made an appointment to get one?" Dana nodded. "Where?"
Dana told her, a clinic in Hampton, about forty minutes away. "I haven't made the appointment yet, but if I can get there, I can get it done Monday after classes." Tuesday was the last day of classes in the coming week. Thanksgiving break began on Wednesday.
"Okay," Zoe said. "I think I know someone who could help."
"And..." Dana hesitated, abruptly anxious about asking for help, for imposing on Zoe. She forced herself to speak. "And...would you come with me? To the clinic?"
Zoe gave her a sympathetic look. "Of course, Dana. I'd be happy to provide moral support." She brightened. "Besides, if I'm going to ask to borrow someone's car, I'm going to be the one driving it."
Dana grinned, unreasonably relieved by Zoe's support. She hadn't really thought Zoe would say no, but asking for help with something so personal was still sometimes difficult. "If you insist."
"I insist," Zoe said, matching her grin. "Besides, you may be happy to have someone else do the driving on the way home. It's not a painless procedure, you know?"
Dana nodded slowly. She'd read up on it. It was pretty quick, and if not painless, not awful either. Still, she'd probably want to take it easy afterward. "Yeah, I know. I really appreciate you doing this, Zoe."
Zoe waved off her thanks, picking up her cell phone. "Don't thank me yet," she said. "If I can't borrow a car, we're not going anywhere."
* * *
Zoe was able to borrow a car, and Dana had made her appointment. The appointment had taken only a couple of hours. She'd been asked about her medical history, including her sexual history. She'd been prepared for that based on what she'd read on the clinic's website and answered with hardly a qualm. The procedure itself had been quick. Uncomfortable, but bearable. Zoe had been right, though. She'd experienced some cramping and a backache afterward and was glad to have Zoe along to drive. Once they reached their dorm room, Dana had spent the evening resting, reading or watching movies on her laptop.
Zoe had been very solicitous, making her tea and repeatedly offering whatever Dana might need or want. It had been both comforting and unsettling. Zoe's obvious concern made Dana feel loved and cared for. At the same time, she felt selfish and unworthy of being so coddled, like she should just tough it out and not expect someone—anyone—else to cater to her.
Another moment of self-awareness that Dana knew she should put some thought into: who had taught her to feel that way? But she put it aside to think about later.
She'd paid cash for the procedure. Well, with a debit card from a local bank. She'd set up the account when the semester started, with cash saved from her summer job. It was intended to pay for things her tuition and meal plan didn't cover. Incidentals. Frivolous things. Certainly not for birth control.
But thank god she had it. It meant she didn't need to use her family medical insurance, or the credit card her parents had provided for emergencies. There was no electronic or paper trail for her family to discover. She felt like a spy, or a rebel, smuggling contraband through enemy territory.
The minister had wound up his sermon. Now he invited everyone to stand for the final hymn. Dana obediently stood and sang along, powerfully aware of the IUD occupying her cervix, safely concealed from prying eyes. Nobody here had any idea it existed, nor would they ever.
After the final prayer, people began exiting the church. Dana made her way down the stairs and through the foyer. She was stopped repeatedly, greeted and often hugged by neighbors or other locals who hadn't seen her here in months. She smiled and exchanged pleasantries and gave them bland, positive answers to questions about her experiences at college.
Mr. Lincoln, the minister, took her hand and held it for a minute, quizzing her about her life at school. "Have you found a church to attend, Dana?"
"Yes sir," she said. "There's a Baptist church not far from campus." She'd attended services exactly once, though she didn't feel the need to reveal that much information to Mr. Lincoln, or her family.
"Good, good," Mr. Lincoln said. "It's always a pleasure to have you here."
"Thank you," Dana said, retrieving her hand with relief as he turned to the next person filing past.
She endured a few more inquisitive encounters on her way to the parking lot, though at least she knew everyone who spoke to her. She'd attended this church all her life. She was more likely to encounter the third degree from strangers—friends and associates of her parents—on the street, people who clearly knew who she was and the details of her family tree and history, though she had no idea who
they
were.
Dana escaped to the relative safety of the family SUV, a brand new Ford Expedition her parents had purchased only a month earlier. Her sisters were busy talking with their friends, her little brother playing tag with his with no regard for the suit and dress shoes he wore. Her parents eventually arrived and herded everyone into the vehicle for the short drive home.
Dana sat quietly observing everyone else. Her parents conversed quietly as her father drove. Her sisters, Nancy and Terry, chattered all the way home. Aaron stared out the window, lost in his thoughts. Eight years younger than Dana, and a boy besides, she sometimes thought he was nonethless the most like her of her siblings.
She remembered her father talking to her once, describing the different personalities of his children. The conversation had occurred one night when she returned home late from a weekend movie. Her father hadn't been waiting up for her, but he'd come down to the kitchen where Dana was having a snack and joined her.
She, Dana, he'd said, was perfectly content to spend time alone for hours or day at a time, pursuing her own interests. Nancy and Terry, of course, were social butterflies, incapable of enduring solitude except briefly. And Aaron seemed to occupy the middle ground. He was happy to follow the crowd—as long as they were going where he wanted to go. If not, he would strike out on his own, as content to do so as Dana always was.
