Was it more than their physical connection that kept drawing her toward him, toward what he had asked her on Valentine’s Day? She wanted to think their connection was multifaceted—rich enough to sustain them both long into the future. She decided she couldn’t talk to him about it, not without raising the specter that he would ask her again to move in with him and she would have to turn him down. What had happened to her plans six months earlier, to concentrate on her career, to concentrate on paying off her loans and building a savings nest egg? How had she got herself into such turmoil?
The following Friday, she and Marcus told Cecelia and Janet they were going to a movie. They left before it was finished, drove to his house, and made love like starving travelers offered a banquet. Thinking about it afterward, she wondered if both of them were trying to figure out what to do, how to move forward, if that was possible, and if not, what they should do.Amanda went home to a house that no longer felt like the home she wanted, even with Cecelia there. She dreamed of Marcus and what their life together might be—but still she hesitated. She had to be sure … for herself, yes, but especially for her daughter. She had to protect Cece from being hurt—if she and Marcus decided they couldn’t be together anymore, if he decided he didn’t want to be together with her, with the two of them.
That evening, she dreamed that he proposed marriage in the traditional way, on bended knee, but the dream dissolved into a nightmare in which he died, leaving her at the altar. She woke then, breathing hard, her pulse racing, her stomach in knots, fearful for herself and for Cece. She admitted to herself, but not to him, that she was deeply in love with him, and feared that she was moving too fast toward a dark unknown. He hadn’t said he loved her, but she hadn’t told him that either.Maybe he was afraid to, after the first and only time he had mentioned marriage and she had nearly taken off his head in her refusal. Did he think she was like that other woman he’d mentioned? She could tell he still suffered the hurt of that rejection. Would he ever ask her again? And if he did, when he did, how would she reply?
“Mom, I have a question.” Cecelia climbed into bed, her copy of Sea Star next to her pillow.
Her mother emerged from the bathroom, her body wrapped in a terry robe, and reached for the book. “What’s your question?”
Cecelia patted the side of her bed.“Sam told me something. It’s just too icky to be real. It just can’t be true.” She laced and unlaced her fingers.
“What was icky?”
“She says that when people are married, the man puts his penis inside the lady. That can’t be right.”
Her mother looked at her and smiled, her brown eyes warm. “Yes, it’s true.”
“Oh, that is so gross. Then I guess those pictures weren’t made up.”
“What pictures?”
“Brittany has this book.” Cecelia watched in the mirror across from her bed as her mother brushed her hair and her curls bounced back after the brush moved through them.
“What’s the book called—did you see the title?” Her mother put down the brush.
“Joy or something, I think it was. I didn’t really pay attention. We just looked at the pictures. I thought they were gross.”
Her mother put her arms around her. “Honey, when a man and woman are married, they love each other. One way they express their love is by getting very, very close. And that includes when he puts his penis in her vagina. And they both like it.”
“I still think it’s icky.”
“That’s okay. When you’re grown up, you probably won’t think so.” Her mother got up and went over to the bookshelf. “Where is that storybook I gave you—when you were four—just before you started reading on your own? Don’t you remember when we talked about what happens when you get bigger and you get breasts and everything?”
“Yes, but that book didn’t talk about this kind of stuff. It talked about making babies.” She leaned over and pulled Eeyore onto her bed.
“Well, that’s how babies are made, honey. If the man doesn’t put his penis in his wife’s vagina, they can’t make a baby.”
“Oh.” She stopped moving her legs under the covers. “Did my dad put his penis inside you, so his sperm and my egg could meet?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Oh, gross, Mom. How could you let him do that?”
“We loved each other. We were making love.”
“But you weren’t married.”
“Yes, well …” Her mother cleared her throat. “Sometimes people who are planning to get married … they do that, too, before they get married.”