Page 51 of Never Really Over

“You got glass in your precious carpet!” I shout.

Groaning, I stand up and move to clean up the mess. With delicate fingers, I start picking up the shards of glass, starting with the larger pieces, and dumping them into the trash can under my old desk. Once the bulk of the glass is picked up — I’ll have to vacuum the rest of it up — I turn the frame over in my hands to see what picture it was that fell. I haven’t paid too much attention to the things in my old bedroom for fear that it would trigger one too many memories I didn’t want to revisit.

The picture I’m holding in my hand, is proof that I had made the right choice.

Colt and me.

Graduation night.

Not in our caps and gowns, but rather at a bonfire in one of Brian’s dad’s fields. It got busted by the cops a few hours after we took this picture together. I remember holding Colt’s hand as we ran through a field of freshly planted corn and into the woods, crouching down to hide from the cops who were chasing teenagers through the field.

We’d graduated high school then promptly gone out to celebrate with a keg of cheap beer that Drew’s older brother bought for us.

In the picture, Colt’s standing behind me, lips resting on my neck. My head is turned just slightly in his direction. His arms are around me, hands holding tight around my waist and mine were on his forearms. I loved this picture. Missy took it of us and I couldn’t wait to hang it on my wall.

We were so in love.

And I walked away, making him feel like that love no longer existed. What a fool I was.

When he was kissing my neck, he had just told me how good I smelled, how he loved me more than he ever thought he could love anyone, and how he couldn’t wait for later that night. His parents left town immediately after graduation and I’d be spending the night at his place. I told my mom that I was staying at Missy’s, but she saw right through the lie. She didn’t approve of it, but she also wasn’t going to stand in my way. She knew if there was a will, there was a way, and she had rather I be honest with her than keep things hidden between us. Her main concern was that we were safe, not just with drinking, but making sure birth control was a top priority. It wasn’t our first time, but she wasn’t aware of that yet.

I smile a little, remembering how uncomfortable she was bringing up that conversation to me, but turning the tables to make me even more uncomfortable than she was.

“You and Colt are going to be tempted, and I want you both to be safe, and smart, and not doing anything neither of you are ready for.”

“Mom, it’s Colt. You really think he’d ever do something that would put me in any sort of danger or in a bad position?”

“No, but sometimes your hormones get the better of you and I’d rather you be aware of what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Mom, I’m just sleeping there.” I try to lie.

“I was young once so don’t lie to me, young lady. I remember what those raging hormones do to you and I definitely remember what sex was like, even if I haven’t had it in a long time,” she says. “Man, I miss sex.”

I groan, gag, and say, “Gross, Mom.”

“If you’re grown up enough to have sex yourself, then you’re grown up enough to talk about it. So here we are. Are you an adult who plans to have sex?”

I shrug, then nod, then cover my face with my hands. “It’s because it’s withyou,that’s embarrassing, Mom!”

“Oh, I know it. And I’m enjoying every minute of it. Now listen to me and look me in the eyes so I know you’re actually paying attention to me. Condoms. Birth control. Both are important. I know you think you’re safe because you and Colt are each other’s first, but you can never be too safe so use both, you understand? And don’t feel like you have to just because you’ve been together for so long and the rest of your friends are doing it. I’d much rather you both wait until you’re married, or at least much older, but I can’t stop you. I know from experience, if you want something bad enough, you’re going to get it one way or another and apparently you want Colt’s penis.”

My eyes widen and my cheeks turn red. “Oh my gosh! You did not just say that to me!”

“Damn right I did. Got a problem with the word penis, too? If you do, then you shouldn’t have sex.”

“Mom! Please. Stop. I beg of you.”

“How uncomfortable would this conversation be if you were telling me that you were pregnant? Or, better yet, think about if you aren’t ready but Colt is, or vice versa, because it does happen where guys aren’t ready, even though they’re giant horn balls, and you had to have a conversation about that? Listen. I know it’s awkward because I’m your mother, but this is a part of life. If you plan to have sex with Colt, we need to have this discussion.”

I groan again, smothering a throw pillow in my face. “I hate this.”

“Word of advice? Don’t say that to him.”

“Mom!”

That conversation is so clear in my head that even at thirty-four years old, it still makes me cringe. I was so embarrassed.

The picture, though, that doesn’t make me cringe.

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