Page 66 of True Sight
“There she is, my girl. Hello, angel, yes, I love you too. Hello.” She baby talks my dog who’s a chaotic mess of spastic movements and butt wiggles when she sees her friend.
“And look, my favorite grump,” she says to me, standing up with a smirk.
“Gee thanks. So happy to see you, too,Marge,” I deadpan and call her the nickname I know she hates.
“Yeah, so fuck you,” she jests as she loops her arm around mine and pulls me down the sidewalk.
“Fuck me?” I cry. “Fuck me for what?”
“Let me count the reasons.” She holds her hand up in front of her as we make our way down the sidewalk.
“First,” she bursts out, holding one finger up. “You call me Marge, and Idespiseit when you call me that. Until I have blue hair and yellow skin, you call me Margaret.” I smirk at her frustration.
“Second”—Another finger goes up and she whips her head to look at me—“You’ve been boinking a boy for weeks now and you never said anything. How could younotsay anything when you have something so astronomically fantastic happening to you? I thought we were closer than this.” She stops mid-step and I turn to face her. She slumps her shoulders low and shakes her head at me as if to say‘Well? I’m waiting.’
“I haven’t been boinking him for weeks now,” I sigh and glance around to see if anyone is around to hear our conversation. “I’ve just been boinking him since Saturday.”
“This past Saturday? Like three days ago, Saturday?” she exclaims.
“I think it’s four days, today’s Wednesday. So Sunday, Monday?—”
“It doesn’t matter how many days it’s been since it happened, Miller,it happened.You and your gentlemanly friend are boinking and enjoying one another’s company and I had to find out by walking in on you two making out on your couch. The least you could have done is called.”
“Can wepleasestop using the word ‘boinking’? It’s annoying,” I jeer, curling the corner of my lip up to prove my point.
“Alright, then you’re having sex with a man and youdidn’t tell me,” she says matter-of-factly as we head down a side street. The November air dances around us, chilly and crisp, and I’m glad I put my heavier coat on.
“We aren’t having sex,” I murmur under my breath as we pass an old Methodist church. I was never an overly religious person but the Holy City is holy for a reason and I don’t need some southern spirit attacking me for talking about this in public so close to a church.
“You’re not?” She sounds surprised.
“No, we’re not,” I huff.
“Have you seen him naked?” My mouth falls open at her question before I swallow hard.
“Well, yeah…”
“Has his dick been in your mouth?”
“Margaret!”
“Okay, so it has. Has your dick been in his mouth? Or his hand? That counts too.” She pushes her lips out as she considers all the places my dick couldhave been.
“So what if it has?” I ask, squinting at her and double checking to make sure no one is around to overhear us.
“Then you’re having sex with him,” she states with conviction.
“But I thought?—”
“Sex doesn’t have to involve penetration to still be sex. If you have gotten off in front of or with him or because of him, you’re having sex with him. Plain and simple. Sex acts are still sex.”
“I feel like I’m talking to Ophelia right now.” I sigh but it comes out more like a groan.
“Oh I’m not surprised, she’s the one who taught me all of this,” she snickers and loops her arm around mine again as we continue down a side street heading back to my apartment.
We walk in silence the last few blocks as I let her words sink in and mix with all the other questions that are swirling around in my head. Everything that’s happened over the last several days still feels like a dream I can’t wake up from. A dream I don’t want to wake up from. But now Margaret knows about him and that I’m apparently sleeping with him which I didn’t even realize until she told me. Her reasoning makes sense though, so I guess I am having sex with him. Maybe I should have told her sooner about how I feel about him. Having a friend to talk about everything with that isn’t one of the guys maybe isn’t such a bad thing. I glance at her again for a moment and suddenly pull her into a hug.
“Woah, what’s this for? You never hug people. Even when they hug you, you just kind of stand there stiff as a board like they’re going to give you some kind of a disease.”
