Page 62 of This Love
“Oh, I’ve been on the internet,” she said. “You can’t Google much of anything without encountering naked people.”
I choked on my laugh. “You can use a safe search.”
“Oh no, it’s very interesting. I had no idea boobs were so many different sizes.”
I coughed into my hand. “Um, yeah. Male parts, too.”
“Really?” Her head pops up. “Is that why people keep saying ‘size matters’ all the time?”
“Yeah.”
“What does it matter for?”
Sex ed. Not my strength. “Um, some women like men to have bigger parts. They think it is important to like what men do with it.”
I winced at my awkwardness. Maybe one of these days I’d rehearse the right ways to manage these conversations. I’d loved Ava since I was seventeen, and we had been together hundreds of times. But this was a new Ava. I had to treat her carefully.
“I should probably write these things down so that next time this happens, I know what I like,” she said.
“You might have already,” I said. “I only know the things that are in your book. But you may have notes I haven’t seen.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I’ve been through this house pretty thoroughly.”
“Well, I know what you like,” I said. “I’ve memorized every part of you.”
Her blue eyes searched mine. I remembered the first time she looked up in the hospital room and I saw that startling color. It broke my heart that our history was erased for her. All those intimate acts. Those nights and days and words. Lost to her.
At least I still had them. And we’d documented what we could.
She sat up. “We could video ourselves doing it. Then I’d know next time what we’ve done.”
I choked again. “That might not be advisable.”
“Why? I have the camera.”
“Things like that can get out, be seen by other people.”
Her mouth made an O, her eyes wide. “Then I guess pictures are a bad idea, too.”
“Probably.”
“People do that, though, right? I mean, it’s all over the internet.”
“Totally. Some people make their living selling videos and pictures of, uh, you know, that.”
Her eyes got big again. “Really? They get money for it?”
“They do.”
She sat back against the cushions. “Huh!”
“I’m not sure it would be a good lifestyle fit for us,” I said carefully.
She nodded. “I get it. Future Ava might not like that past Ava flashed her cootchie all over the internet.”
She was picking up slang. It was funny to hear it coming from her. She settled back against me. “So, what do I like?” she asked, her voice whisper-quiet.
I knew what she was asking. “It shifts according to your mood,” I say, “but after a romantic movie, you like to kiss Hollywood style.”
