Pet Project

"You mean you’ve never had a drink? Not ever?"

I shouldn't have to feel embarrassed, I thought. I knew I had been brought up well. My parents had made it their number one priority: I had been home-schooled all of my life, outside what they saw as the corrupting influence of public schools, and my parents saw to it that temptations never, ever crossed my path.

I looked at Tanya, making an effort to be sure my eyes met hers. "No. Not ever."

"Wow!" she said, flopping down on her plush linen sheets in her green athletic shorts and white t-shirt. Like everything else she owned, Tanya's bed sheets and pillows were top of the line. She sat back against her husband pillow, dangling her thin legs over the edge of the bed. She regarded me not with disdain, but a gentle kind of amusement. Just as I had felt many times before in the four weeks we had gotten to know each other so far as college roommates, I really think I was becoming one of her pet projects.

I had been as surprised by our room assignment, I think, as she had. I had known Tanya Keeler from the year before—Culverton is a small enough town that almost everyone knows everyone else—but I certainly had never had the occasion to speak to her. I knew she was popular, I knew her parents had money, and anyone with eyes in her head could see she was just gorgeous: thin, big-chested, long legs, straight, silky blond hair...she was so pretty she defied definition. She had a long neck, high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, and full lips—just as if she'd stepped off the cover of Cosmopolitan magazine.

But I had to admit: I surprised myself by finding I liked her. She wasn't snooty or standoffish or superior at all—she was open and friendly and really quite likeable. She seemed to find our differences to be quite interesting, and, yes, sometimes amusing.

"And I guess the same goes with pot. You never caught a buzz…ever?"

I shook my head.

"How about a beer, Sherry?” She looked at me, incredulous. “Not even beer?"

I shrugged my shoulders and smiled.

"Wow," she repeated. "Didn't any of your friends ever, you know, tempt you?"

"No," I said, closing the book and leaning back in my chair. "I only have a few friends, and they're pretty much like me."

Tanya got up, rooted around in her closet, and found a dark, tall bottle under a pile of dirty clothes. She pulled it out, and I could guess it was wine.

“Look,” she said, “I hope this doesn’t offend you, but I fully expected to be going out tonight with Kyle. But the little bugger hasn’t so much as called. I really enjoy a little weekend drink, sort of to celebrate. I know you don’t drink, but I hope you don’t mind if I have one.”

“No. Go ahead,” I said, trying to put aside my provincial squeamishness about the dorm’s No Alcohol rule. I honestly liked Tanya, and wanted her to like me, and sometimes that meant not being so hardheaded. She took out a clear plastic cup and poured about two inches of purple liquid inside it.

Tanya sat back down on her bed, picked up one of her half dozen little dolls adorning it. This one was a toucan, with a large orange beak. It was the school mascot of Culverton High—not hard for even an outsider like me to recognize, what with the big "C" imprinted on its chest. As she tossed it up and down on her lap, I suddenly found I envied her life, her contact with the world, her friends. I felt no animosity, just a kid of longing.

"Why did your parents let you come here?" Tanya asked, taking a sip. "Do you mind my asking?"

I shook my head. "They thought it was time I got out and experienced the world."

"They're not worried about your suddenly...I don't know, being exposed to everything?"

"They're worried," I said. I put my high liter down and leaned back. Outside, sporadic lights in white globes illuminated the campus pathways. From our fourth floor window beside my desk I could see two people walking toward one about one hundred feet away. "But they're not ogres. They know Campbell has a good rep, and it's pretty close to home. Besides," and unconsciously glanced toward the door, "there's always..."

"The phone," Tanya said, finishing my sentence for me, and we both giggled. My parents called every night at eight, and both spoke from extensions within the house. Even four weeks in, the ritual never changed. "But that's nice. Your parents really care."

"They do," I said, and the feeling warmed me. I felt good again, not lonely. They really did care. But I suddenly realized that Tanya rarely received phone calls-from her parents, that is. She got several from her boyfriend Kyle, but not that many from her mother and father. I decided not to say anything about it until she did. They certainly cared about her...I mean, look at all the stuff they bought her.

I noticed the couple outside had settled under the streetlight, and they seemed to be talking. Every once in a while they reached out and held one another's hand.

"I hope you don't mind my asking these questions," Tanya said. And I didn't. As I had come to know her these last few weeks, I realized she was really a sweet girl, and very friendly. That she was beautiful was simply another facet of her...and here, in this room, late on a Friday night, it was no more important than her height. "It's just different than the way I was brought up. It's not bad or anything. In fact, I kind of think it's sweet."

I smiled. I hadn't ever thought of my life as "sweet." Before coming to Campbell, I had often wondered about how others lived. For years, whenever we drove by the local schools, I had looked at the masses of students and watched them interact, hearing their loud yells and laughter. My parents had seen it their way, glad to have rescued my from the throngs of bad influences wishing to do me harm. But I had always wondered what it would be like, to interact, to watch the sea of people around me. Certainly, I had been in crowds—in shopping malls, or airports—but schools, with their shared confinement, the community feeling, had always enchanted me.

"Have you ever had, um, a boyfriend?" Tanya asked. She was looking at me, her head tilted to one side like a puppy's. I flipped my pencil at her and she giggled as it hit the pillow by her left hand.

"What do you think?" I said, flipping on my light by the bed and turning off the main room light. As I left the window, I noticed the couple under the light was now much closer, the girl's back against the light post, the boy leaning down to kiss her.

"I guess not," Tanya said. "But that's okay. You've got lots of time."

"Thanks," I said. And as I walked toward my bed I suddenly realized how much I didn't like the position I had just put myself in. Here I was, after having avoided it for so many weeks, I was finally going to have to undress in front of Tanya. I mean, of course I had changed with her in the room, but I always managed to be in my bra and panties. Otherwise, I had always been able to wait until she was out of the room, or asleep or somehow preoccupied. I just couldn’t think of myself—plain, regular me—being seen by her eyes.

I pretended to take my time straightening the sheets and pillows, but Tanya seemed oblivious and kept right on talking, occasionally taking a small sip from her glass. I realized I had little recourse other than to continue. I straightened up and, as casually as I could, began to take my earrings and necklace off.

“Sometimes,” Tanya said, “I wonder what my life would have been like without beginning with boys so early.”

I didn’t know what to say. Frankly, I found myself kind of hoping she was lost in a reverie, and wouldn’t even notice me changing. As I kicked my shoes off and placed them under the bed I knew I was making more of this in my head than I should. Tanya was a normal girl, and she probably wasn’t thinking of me at all.

"I mean," she said, "it takes a lot of pressure off you. I mean, here it is, Friday night, and if I weren't waiting for Kyle's call I would be going out. I'm actually glad I'm not...I like being here with you, talking."

"Thanks."

"I'm serious," she said, and as I glanced at her I could see she was. "Going out is a whole show, what with makeup and dressing up and accessorizing."

"I can't imagine you having to worry about that," I said, and I meant it. "I mean, you're so...perfect."

Tanya laughed. "Thanks!" she said, and got up and poured another inch of wine into her glass. She tipped the bottle toward me, and after a moment I shook my head. I was surprised to find I had been a little tempted. “Just being polite,” she said, and sat back down on her bed.

She tossed her toucan to the side, picking up a small pink kitten next. She looked at the doll as she spoke. "I know people say I'm pretty," she said, the understatement of the year, "but that can be harder on you, sometimes, than anything. I mean, I feel I always have to live up to everyone's expectations. I can't just wear what I want...I have to always be...perfect."

I turned and looked at her. For the first time in my life, I saw her differently, beyond her appearance. I even felt a little sorry for her. Feeling more comfortable, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and threw it into my hamper.

"Look at you," she said, and I suddenly felt naked in my bra, and had to resist the urge to cover up. "You're beautiful.”

I laughed, honestly shocked. "Yeah.." I said. "Nice try..."

"No, I mean it," Tanya said. "You have gorgeous curly hair, and you're so small and delicate. I know so many guys who love small women."

I shook my head, unfastening the snap of my jeans. "Not true. You’re every guy’s fantasy: tall and thin. Your hair is long and blond, and every girl would kill for your body."

"Let them have it," Tanya said. "I'd like for once not to have to dress for everyone in the world. I'd like for once not to have people stare at me. I can't tell you how many times I feel violated by them, like it's their right to just gawk. And when a guy asks me out, I know right away what he's thinking. I know right away what he wants."

"I think that's pretty much true of every guy," I said, and we both laughed as I began to step out of my jeans. "I mean, how many guys really want to just talk, or just be with you, no sex?"

"Oooh,” Tanya said, smiling. “I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend."

"I didn't grow up in a cave," I said, and we both laughed again. "I mean, when I go to the beach I can't help but tell they're looking..."

"There you go," Tanya said. "That's what I mean. Just imagine that 24/7. There's never a break."

"I never thought of it that way, I said, and made sure my night shirt was close by as I began to reach behind my back. I tried to act very nonchalant, but found it very difficult not to turn my back to her. I unclasped my bra and pulled the straps from my shoulder.

“I can see why boys looked at you on the beach,” Tanya said, as I pulled the t-shirt over my head.

I was shocked, and found my arms uncontrollably bunching in an effort to shield myself. “What do you mean?”

“You’re very well built,” Tanya said, without a hint of embarrassment or impropriety.

“I…I’m not like you,” I said, trying not to make the words sound as halting as I’m sure they did.

“You don’t have to look like me,” Tanya said. “Be thankful you don’t, in fact. I would rather look like you. Pretty, and approachable, and intelligent, and…well, normal. Me, all they see is my looks.”

I was honestly touched. I settled in my bed, and with my weak nightlight on the room had kind of a dull, campfire-like glow to it. It was dark, but bright enough to see across the room. I could see that Tanya was making no effort to get into bed herself. I had a copy of Edith Wharton’s

The House of Mirth

on my nightstand—I had four chapters to read before Monday—but I found I didn’t feel like reading myself to sleep tonight. I really wanted to talk to Tanya.

“What’s it like?” I asked.

“What’s what like?”

“Having a boyfriend. Like you and Kyle.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, what do you mean? Like what are guys like in general, or what is Kyle like? Do you mean what do they talk about, or act like? Or,” and she took on a conspiratorial tone here, “do you mean

sex

?”

I shrieked and threw my pillow across the room. Tanya shielded her glass as the pillow hit the wall behind her. Then, with a kind of throaty cackle, she threw it back at me. “Well, you said you’ve never had a boyfriend!”

“I know,” I said, giggling like a kid. “But I can’t ask you about that!”

“Why not?” she said. “I don’t care.”

“But it’s personal,” I said, settling down. “It’s…private.”

“It is,” she said. “But it’s only personal and private around other people. You’re my roommate. I can tell you anything.”

I felt astonished by this. Here I was, the confidant of Tanya Keeler. I couldn’t believe that she even tolerated me, with all my social ineptness. Sure, I was a great student, but I was a mess outside of the classroom. And here she was, now, my friend.

“Well, I don’t know,” I said. The room felt strangely stuffy all of a sudden. “I…just…”

“Contrary to popular opinion,” Tanya began, “all guys are not alike. Not in the way they act, not in the way they talk, and certainly not in the way they fuck.”

“Tanya!”

“Well, it’s true,” she said. “I’m sorry if it offends you, but it’s the truth.”

“But I can’t believe you’d say that,” I said. “It’s so..dirty.”

Tanya laughed. “I guess you better get used to it. I’ve been on my best behavior up ‘til now.” She tipped her nearly empty glass. “But after a couple of these I find I really have a dirty mouth…and a dirty mind, too.”

I was shocked. It was so strange to hear this…I don’t believe I had ever heard my parents say “damn” once. They had restricted television hours ever since I was able to watch it, and as far as I knew language like that was for other people I would simply not associate with. But Tanya had such a joyous manner about it, and I liked her so much, it made it all seem somehow different. It was still dirty, but it was not evil. It sounded kind of forbidden and fun.

“Well,” I said, “I guess there’s a lot I could learn in this area.”

“Then you’ve come to the right person,” Tanya said. “And I’m in the right frame of mind, too—Kyle was supposed to see me a week ago, but his damn football coach has them in curfew. As it is, I’m as horny as a jackrabbit. “

I giggled like a schoolgirl. I hated myself for doing it. There was so much I wanted to talk about right now, but I thought I was blowing it with my being so nervous. I wished I could be more like Tanya—straight-forward and candid, without all these fears.

Just then, she got up and poured herself another small glass. She looked my way, and I found myself meeting her gaze with my own. “I shouldn’t,” I said.

“There are a million things we shouldn’t do,” Tanya said. “But frankly, I find they’re often the only things worth doing.” She looked at me. “Look,” she said, “it’s only you and me here tonight. I won’t tell anyone, if you’re worried about that, and I won’t let you have more than one glass. Consider tonight a learning experience.”

I hesitated, and before I could shake my head no Tanya slipped out another plastic cup and poured what I considered a pretty generous amount of wine in it. I gasped.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not a demon. Just sip it. Really casually. If you don’t want to finish it, don’t.” She placed the glass of wine on my nightstand and returned to her bed.

I reached for the cup and brought it to my mouth. I took a small sip, and after the first pungent sensation of grapes hit my lips, I found I actually liked it. I had expected it to be harsher, but I had to admit I liked it. I took a second sip—a little bigger one this time.

“Okay, there, tiger, go easy,” she said. “Just sip it, a little at one time. Wine has a way of sneaking up on you.”

I put the drink down, and looked at Tanya. “I guess you’re going to hell for corrupting me, aren’t you?

She smiled wickedly. “Well, if I going to hell, I may as well do it all the way.” She raised her glass, and sipped, and I reached for my cup and did the same. I had to admit I liked the full, sweet flavor of it, and the way it warmed me as it trickled down my throat. I thought it would be more—I don’t know, evil feeling—but all I felt was a little more pleasant, a little happier.

“We were talking about boys,” I said. And we both laughed at the same time. I loved this: I had never shared any intimate moments like this with anyone. Tanya seemed to be equally enjoying it, and suddenly I had an insight that this might be unusual for her, too—that she hadn’t any friends like me, either. The realization left me with a contented, warm feeling—kind of like the wine.

“Boys,” she said. “So where do I begin? Have you ever dated?”

I shook my head.

“Wow,” Tanya said. “What about messed around?”

“Well, you can’t do that if you don’t date!” I said.

“Oh, how much you have to learn,” she said. “How about kissed?”

“Not if you don’t count friendly kisses,” she said. “Like my mom and dad.”

“You definitely don’t!” she said, laughing. “Not unless they slip you the tongue.”

“Tanya!” I said, laughing hysterically. “That’s horrible!”

“Yeah,” she said, laughing just as hard. “Yeah, it was.”

After a minute, we quieted, and Tanya took a small sip and looked at me. “Have you ever seen a guy naked?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I mean, statues, and art—sure. You know, and in National Geographic…”

“Well, I can see I have my work cut out for me.”

“I guess I’m kind of a waste.”

“No!” Tanya said. “No. You’re so sweet. Don’t think that for a second. I think it’s wonderful that you’ve waited this long. But I think it’s kind of dangerous to marry a man without knowing a thing about him…not when it’s going to be such a big part of your life.”

I thought about this for a moment. “What’s it like?” I asked.

“What’s what like?”

“You know,” I said. “Sex.”

“Oh, lord,” Tanya said. “It’s all sorts of things. It depends on the guy, the mood he’s in, the mood you’re in…all sorts of things.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Tanya said without hesitation. “I mean, there have been some that haven’t been so great, but for the most part, I really love it.”

“Why?”

“Gee,” Tanya said. “There’s no one reason. But it feels good. And I love making a guy feel good. I love being wanted. I love a guy wanting me so much that he’ll do anything to have me. I love the way I feel during sex. And there are some guys, the special ones, where it’s really a way to have a special bond with them, a way to connect like nothing else in the world.”

“When I think of it,” I said, “I always got the feeling it’s sort of…I don’t know, messy.”

Tanya laughed. “There’s no denying that!” she said, her laugh genuine and hearty. “Some more than others. But there’s no denying you’re going to get messy.”

“Uggh,” I said. “That just doesn’t appeal to me.”

Tanya shook her head. “You just wait. When you’re with the right guy, it will all seem just right. And don’t worry about how ‘messy’ you’ll get. That will be part of the thrill.”

“Really? How?”

“Well, if it’s the right guy, you’ll be pretty wet yourself. If he gets you pretty worked up, you know.”

“Hmm…” I said, then regretted it.

Tanya looked at me. “You know about that, I guess.”

I felt terribly embarrassed. “I…guess so.”

“You guess so? Girl, you got wet or you didn’t. Who did it to you?”

“No one did it to me,” I said. “It just was sort of an attraction I felt. Once. A long time ago.”

Tanya sat up in bed. “Sherry, I’ve been pretty honest with you. Now what guy turned you on? Come on, spill it.”