Chapter Sixteen
Daniel
I whip my head around, and there’s Tamsin. She’s leaning against the doorframe with her hands on her hips.
“What is that from?” she asks. “A Charlie Brown Christmas?”
She doesn’t look mad, and she did come back to talk to me. That’s got to be a good sign, right? Maybe things between us aren’t as bleak as I thought.
“Close. It’s the nativity scene.”
“Seriously? Did you do the Christmas pageant at your church, or something?”
“Yeah. Every year.” I pause. “Are you going to make fun of me?”
“I’m not that much of a bitch.”
That makes me smile.
Tamsin comes over and sits down in the front row. “It seems like a church Christmas pageant would be an awful experience. I mean, no one really wants to be there, do they? And you’ve got little kids running around and people singing and acting who can’t sing or act.”
I come forward to sit on the apron of the stage, my legs dangling over the edge like I’m Jack sitting in the giant’s chair.
“The first year I did it, I was just trying to help out my minister. The kid who usually played Joseph had moved away and no one else wanted to do it. So I volunteered—with a strong nudge from my mom, who’s very community-minded. It was pretty much like you described, plus a really cheesy set and costumes. Take every cliché you can think of about a local church doing a Christmas play, and that was us.”
Tamsin kicks off her boots and tucks her feet up under her. “How did the performance go?”
I put my hands on the edge of the stage, my fingers curving around the smooth wood.
“It was Christmas Eve. The pageant is always at five o’clock because of the little kids. You’d think that would make it less magical, right? Compared to the midnight service. I mean, anything happening at midnight has its own built-in magic. But it’s dark by five o’clock in December, and it was snowing that day. Not too much—just the perfect amount to be beautiful without making the roads bad.
“I got to the church a little late and I had to hurry to get ready. I put on my Joseph robe and strapped on my Joseph beard, and I noticed that we all looked pretty ridiculous wearing our costumes over jeans and sneakers. But I told myself it would all be over in a couple hours.
“Then we came up from the church basement to take our places.
“There were no electric lights on—only candles. Candles everywhere. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a big space lit by candlelight, but it’s incredible. The light flickers, and it feels like you’re under water.
“And there was this amazing scent in the air. Someone had brought in real frankincense and myrrh for the wise men, and it smelled…I don’t know. Ancient and mysterious and holy.
“Then the choir director sat down at the piano—our church doesn’t have an organ—and started playing carols to warm up before the show.
“I loved Christmas carols even before that night. But hearing them in a church full of candlelight and frankincense was something else. Then the congregation came in and we started the pageant, and I just…felt like Joseph. I felt like a poor man with a pregnant wife. We went to place after place, but no one would take us in. We’d traveled so far and she was so tired, and all I wanted to do was take care of her.
“And I did, with God’s help. We didn’t find a palace or silk sheets or anything like that, but we found a stable warm from the animals in it, and warm with the love of angels and shepherds and wise men from far away. Ordinary human love and the love of God, come together in one moment of time.”
There’s one detail of the story I don’t tell Tamsin. The night of the Christmas pageant was eight months after my neighbor molested me.
I’d been to church at least thirty times since. Eight months of Sundays. And every time we bowed our heads in prayer, I’d ask God why He let it happen. How He could allow such evil in the world.
But the only answer I found was intellectual. The idea of free will. Which basically means, as far as I could tell back then, that God doesn’t interfere with what human beings do to each other. Because for free will to be a real thing with real consequences, it has to allow for evil as well as good.
That’s when I found out that “free will” is a really unsatisfying answer when you’re suffering.
But that Christmas Eve, I wasn’t asking God why He lets bad things happen. I wasn’t asking any questions at all, really. Something about the candles and the frankincense and the kids all around me in their robes and sneakers, singing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs, just got to me.
I was there, in the moment, feeling something flow through me.
God’s love.
I know I’ll never be able to convey that moment to Tamsin. Not really. I still don’t understand it myself. I just know that after that night, I’ve never doubted that God is with me, and has always been with me, even on the worst day of my life.
When I finish talking, Tamsin doesn’t say anything right away. She just looks at me, and I wonder what she’s thinking.
“Is that the play you talked about last week? The one you thought about when you signed up for this class?”
“Yeah.”
With her feet tucked under her like that, she looks younger than she is. With my legs dangling over the edge of the stage, I feel younger than I am.
“I wish I’d been there,” Tamsin says. “I’ve never seen a nativity play, but I do love Christmas carols.”
“Have you ever been to a Christmas service?”
She shakes her head. “My mom’s Jewish, which means I’m Jewish, and my dad isn’t anything in particular.”
I didn’t know Tamsin was Jewish. “Do you go to temple?”
“Not now. We used to go once in a while, whenever my grandmother was in town. I remember this one time she took me to Yom Kippur services. That’s the Day of Atonement, and there’s this part where everyone confesses their sins. While we’re doing that, we actually beat our breasts. There was something really cathartic about that service. All those people, feeling something together. Confessing their sins together, asking forgiveness together, promising to do better together. It made me think about the whole idea of catharsis in Greek drama. The idea that the audience participates in a play through their emotions—their pity and fear—and that the experience can heal you.”
I smile a little. “So you don’t believe in the power of God’s forgiveness, but you do believe in the power of art to heal?”
“Pretty much.”
“What made you want to be an actor? Was it a play you went to?”
She nods. “The Tempest. I was fourteen, and a Shakespeare group came to our school. It hit me the way your Christmas play hit you. Like magic.”
“I probably read The Tempest in high school, but I don’t remember it.” I jump down from the stage. “Can you do a speech from it?”
“Are you kidding? Of course I can. I’m a drama queen, Daniel.”
Tamsin puts her boots back on and goes up on stage, while I sit down where she just was.
The seat is still warm from her body.
She comes forward and looks out at an imaginary audience. I half expect her to make a joke of it, hamming it up with dramatic gestures and a booming voice, but when she begins her voice is quiet.
“Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air.
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself—
Yea, all which it inherit—shall dissolve,
And like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.”
Goosebumps prickle my skin.
“Wow,” I say after a moment. “That was good, Tamsin.”
“Thanks.”
She comes forward and sits where I was, her legs dangling off the edge of the stage.
“That’s one of my favorite speeches in all of Shakespeare. I’m surprised you like it, though. I mean, it’s pretty atheistic, isn’t it? It’s talking about the transience of life without saying anything about an afterlife or heaven. Just that we’re here and then we’re gone, with nothingness before and after.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know about that. It could be saying that mortal life will dissolve, while eternal life might still be there in the background.”
“That sounds like wishful thinking. Which, by the way, is my whole objection to organized religion.”
She grins at me, and I stick my tongue out at her. Then I say,
“Hey, Tamsin?”
“What?”
“Why were you so angry during our scene? We’re talking about all the same stuff now, but you’re not yelling at me.”
She raises her eyebrows. “That was acting.”
I raise my eyebrows, too. “Really?”
“Okay, fine. I might have been a little mad at you, but it wasn’t about the scene. It was because of Saturday night.”
I wasn’t going to bring Saturday night up at all. Not unless she did.
“Since you mention it, do you mind telling me what’s so bad about not wanting to sleep with a girl on a first date?”
“If you tell me what’s so bad about wanting to sleep with someone on a first date.”
“There’s nothing bad about it. I just didn’t want to.”
“You mean you didn’t want me.”
“That’s not—”
“Why can’t you just say it? A kiss like a volcano, and you didn’t want anything more? We both know the reason. The truth is, I’m not pure enough to touch your penis. You’ll go out with me, but just to show me how a real gentleman does things. You’ll even kiss me—although that part was my idea. But you won’t sleep with me. Because I’m tainted.”
Is that really what she thinks?
If anyone in here is tainted, it’s me. I may be sure God can love people no matter what, but I’m not so confident about human beings.
There’s nothing sexy about being the victim of molestation. If Tamsin knew the truth, she’d feel sorry for me, because she’s a good person.
But she wouldn’t want to date me. Because I’m tainted.
I can’t tell her any of that, and I can’t think of anything else to say. But before the silence gets awkward, Tamsin shakes her head.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about this. That’s not why I came back to look for you.”
“Why did you come back?”
She sighs. “To say we should forget about Saturday night. Or at least, we should forget it was supposed to be a date. We should remember that we both love Tom Waits, that we hate vegan food, and that the French fries at Jimmy’s are the best in town. And we should be friends.”
Friends.
Well, that’s great. That’s what I think, too.
Isn’t it?
There are so many reasons for us not to be a couple. All the differences between us. All the ways I’m screwed up.
So why don’t those things seem real right now?
Sitting here staring at Tamsin, there’s only one thing in the world that seems real.
I get up and cross the space between us.
“I don’t want to be friends with you.”
She looks hurt for just a moment, and then her chin comes up.
“Well, then—”
“I want to be more than friends with you.”
Her eyes widen. I step close, my thighs touching her knees, and when her legs part I step into the cradle between them.
She’s wearing a skirt, and it’s up around her hips now. The only thing separating my hard-on from her body are my pants and her underwear.
Tamsin stares at me, her lips parted. I can actually see her pupils dilate.
Her breath is coming faster. There are only a few inches between her mouth and mine.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispers. “If that was true, you wouldn’t have—”
I lean in and kiss her.
Everything about her is soft. Her lips, her skin, her breasts against my chest.
She’s so soft it almost kills me.
The kiss is gentle at first, because I’m half-afraid of breaking her.
But when her legs wrap around my waist and her arms lock around my neck, everything changes.
Our mouths open and our tongues meet. Electricity rocks my whole body.
It feels like we’re trying to get inside each other, and for the first time in my life I’m not afraid of that.
When this kiss started I was afraid of bruising her. But now all I can think of is devouring her.
I can’t get enough. When she breaks the kiss, gasping for breath, I drag my mouth down her neck to the hollow of her throat.
I get the whole vampire thing now. Because I want to bite Tamsin right here, right where her pulse is thrumming. I want to drink her essence until we’re made of the same thing. Until we breathe the same air and bleed the same blood.
I kiss the place instead, tasting the hint of salt on her skin.
She shudders in my arms.
“Daniel…”
The sound of her saying my name explodes my few remaining brain cells. Before I know what’s happening she’s on her back and I’m above her, my body crushing hers, my cock as desperate as the rest of me.
Maybe something’s changed. Maybe enough time has gone by. Maybe I’m finally ready to have sex with someone.
No, not someone.
Tamsin.
But then she reaches down between us and takes me in her hand, and I jump back like I was shot.
Fuck.
It happened so fast. My body reacted before I could.
Fuck.
I’m standing a foot or two back from the stage now, staring at Tamsin and panting. She raises herself up on her elbows and stares back at me, her face flushed and her lips swollen. Her hair is mussed and her skirt is up around her waist and she looks so beautiful right now I can’t stand it.
“Sorry,” I manage to say, and she shakes her head.
“No, you’re right. Someone could walk in any second. We just got carried away.”
She thinks I was worried about someone catching us. Thank God for that.
She sits up now, straightening her skirt and running her hands through her hair. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and I’m suddenly very conscious of her small, perfect breasts under her Ramones shirt.
I remember exactly how they felt crushed against my chest.
“Do you…” she pauses, her expression uncertain.
“What?”
She looks like she’s taking her courage in both hands. “Do you want to come back to my dorm? Rikki’s probably staying with Sam tonight. We could, um, have the place to ourselves.”
I’m so concerned with my own hang-ups it would be easy to miss the look on Tamsin’s face. But I force myself to focus on her, because I don’t want to screw up again.
She’s risking rejection. She’s totally vulnerable right now.
Don’t fuck this up.
I close the distance between us again and take her right hand in both of mine. Then I raise it to my lips and kiss it.
When I meet her eyes again, she’s smiling.
“Such a romantic.”
I keep hold of her hand. It’s small and warm and soft in mine.
“Do you believe I want to be more than friends with you?”
She nods slowly.
“Okay, good. Because here’s the thing. I want to be more than friends with you. But I can’t.”
She looks confused, but at least she doesn’t look hurt or rejected.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a virgin.”
Her eyes widen.
“You…” She stops and tries again. “You are?”
I nod.
“Okay,” she says after a moment. “I’m trying to wrap my mind around this. Just give me a minute here.”
“Take all the time you need. But you asked me if I was a virgin on Saturday night. A part of you must have suspected.”
“If a part of me suspected, the other part thought I was crazy. I mean, you’re the sexiest guy I’ve ever met, and it seems insane that no woman has jumped your bones yet. But aside from that, why would being a virgin mean we can’t be together?”
I smile slowly. “I’m the sexiest guy you’ve ever met?”
“Can you answer my question, please?”
I can’t tell her all the truth. But I can tell her part of the truth.
“A guy is supposed to know what he’s doing.”
She stares at me. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
She thinks about that for a moment.
“Okay. Well. Granting that premise—which I don’t, by the way—I have a convenient solution to this problem. Once we have sex, you’ll know what you’re doing.”
God, I wish it was that simple.
“I see where you’re coming from. But, Tamsin…think about it for a second. You’ve got experience and I don’t. If we sleep together, you’ll be like my teacher or something. That’s not sexy or romantic or—”
She was smiling at me a moment ago, but now her smile fades.
“So I’m being punished for having sexual experience.”
“No! That’s not—”
“Yes, it is. Because if I was a virgin, we could have a relationship.”
I stare at her. Is she right? If she was a virgin, would things be different?
Yes…and no. Yes because we’d both be beginners, which seems like a better foundation for a relationship. No because my own history would still be sick and rotten with what happened to me when I was twelve.
But that can’t be part of our conversation.
“I don’t mean it like that. I don’t care that you’re not a virgin. I don’t care how many guys you’ve slept with.” I take a breath. “Do you want the truth? Your experience is sexy. You’re sexy. You’re the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever known.”
Her eyes are searching mine like she’s trying to figure me out.
“You said if I teach you about sex, that would mess with your whole gender role thing where the guy is supposed to have more experience than the girl.”
“Well…yeah. Maybe that sounds old-fashioned but—”
“I don’t know if old-fashioned is the word I’d use, but whatever. The point is that it sounds like we can’t be together either way.”
I’m not sure what’s she’s getting at.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if we decide to be friends we won’t be together. And if we decide to have sex, you’re saying we still can’t be together. Not romantically.”
“Um…”
“So here’s what I’m thinking. Since we can either have sex and not be in a relationship or not have sex and not be in a relationship, why not go for option number one?”
I’m sure there’s a flaw in this logic.
“But if we do that…if we have sex…then we won’t be friends. I mean, how can you be friends with someone you’re sleeping with?”
She levels those gray eyes at me. “We’re not friends now, Daniel. We want each other too much. You think that’ll go away?”
I look back at her. Her cheeks are still flushed and her lips are still swollen, and for the first time I notice her nipples through her T-shirt.
“No,” I say after a moment. “I don’t think that’ll go away.”
Our hands are still clasped together. Now Tamsin pulls hers away and slides off the stage. Her boots don’t have heels, and the top of her head barely clears my chest.
“I have a suggestion,” she says, her head tilted back as she looks at me. “Do you want to hear it?”
She’s smiling, and there’s a wicked gleam in her eye.
“Okay.”
“Let me be your teacher. Unless you’re planning to stay a virgin the rest of your life, you’ll have to figure this whole sex thing out at some point, right? So figure it out with me. No strings attached, no relationship necessary. Just sex.”
There might be a guy somewhere who could resist that offer, made by the sexiest, sweetest, most beguiling girl in the universe, but I can’t.
I’m still worried about my hang-ups and my past. But Tamsin’s right. I’ve got to figure out a way past that shit sometime, and why not do it with the girl I’ve wanted from the moment I first saw her?
“Okay,” I say.
She blinks. “Seriously?”
I feel like I’ve just stepped off the edge of a cliff.
“Yeah.”
She lays her hands flat on my chest, and I wonder if she can feel my heart pounding.
“You won’t regret this decision, Daniel Bowman. I’m going to give a whole new meaning to the phrase sex ed. Now, just to give me some background—you’ve obviously kissed girls before. I mean, no one can kiss like you do without experience.”
At least she thinks I’m a good kisser.
“Yeah.”
“And I remember our first Experiments in Drama class, when you revealed your favorite thing to do in bed with someone.
I swallow. “Yeah.”
“Are you any good at it?”
An image floods my mind. Tamsin’s on the stage again, lying on her back with her skirt up around her hips. But this time, I slide her panties off and go down on her.
“Very good,” I say.
Her smile is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
“Damn. Okay. I’m assuming girls have gone down on you, too? And that you’ve gotten hand jobs?”
I tense up a little. If I tell her the answer is no, will she figure out something’s wrong with me?
Maybe. But all the same, I’ll tell her the truth.
“No,” I say. “I’ve never gotten a hand job or a blow job.”
I tense up even more, waiting for Tamsin to look at me like I’m a freak.
“Wait a sec,” she says. “Are you telling me that you go down on girls but they don’t go down on you?”
“Um. Yeah.”
“How are you not the most popular guy on campus?”
I relax a little.
“Very funny,” I say. “But girls think it’s weird if you don’t want them to reciprocate. And they think it’s weird if you don’t want to have sex.”
“Okay, that’s probably true. But you tell them why, don’t you? I mean…I’m assuming it has something to do with religion.”
I’ve never been more tempted to tell that lie.
“No. It’s not because of religion. I’ve just never had a hand job or blow job. That’s all.”
I hope that’s good enough.
It seems to be, because Tamsin’s moving on to other things. “So,” she says. “About coming over tonight…”
I shake my head. “No way. I’ve got an early class tomorrow. If we’re really going to do this, I don’t want there to be anything on my mind but you.”
A smile curves up those incredible lips. “I like the sound of that.”
I clear my throat. “I’ve got an away game this weekend, like I said. But after that we’ve got a bye week. No game.” I pause. “I’m going to take you out next Saturday night.”
She’s still smiling. “I notice that you can still swing the alpha male vibe…in spite of your lack of sexual experience.”
I know she’s teasing, but something occurs to me. “Shit. I hope this goes without saying, but…I obviously don’t have any expectations. I mean, if you change your mind about the whole sex thing, that’s totally cool.”
Her eyebrows go up. “I won’t change my mind, Mr. Bowman. What about you?”
Given my history, changing my mind should be a distinct possibility. But as I gaze down into Tamsin’s beautiful eyes, I know it’s not.
“I won’t change my mind.”
“Then I guess it’s a date.”
She pulls back, and I miss her hands on my body like warmth on a winter day.
“I’ll see you in class on Thursday,” she says.
“See you then, Tamsin.”
She smiles at me one more time, turns, and leaves the theater.
I’m left standing there, alone in the echoing silence.
I should be terrified, and I suppose I am.
But I’m also more excited for next Saturday than I’ve ever been for anything in my life.