Free Sunlight on My Shadow by Judy Liautaud

now.
    “How do I keep from getting pregnant?”
    “I’ll pull it out just before.”
    “Can you do that?”
    “Yep.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yep.”
    “Won’t some get in?”
    “No, I’ll pull it out.”
    “Don’t forget.”
    “I won’t.”
    It seemed strange to me, this in-out action like the dogs I’d seen humping in the park. I felt numb and wooden as I lay there, wishing it would be over. All of a sudden he pulled out and lay facedown on the bed, still for a minute, and then he emptied his lungs with a heavy sigh.
    He rolled over and said, “I told you I could do it.”
    I lay there in a smear of bloody fluid and dark feelings. So this was it. He had sexed me. I felt no love at this moment, just fright for how I let myself get carried away like a log in a river. I felt pain from the bruise between my legs. I felt remorse for my loss of virginity, the death of my innocence and purity.
    “Let’s get dressed before someone else comes home,” I said.
    “Good idea,” he said in a dreamy, satisfied tone.
    I didn’t get what I expected. Sex didn’t feel good. I wasn’t expecting an orgasm, because I had never heard of it. I didn’t know that was what made it so sparky and ecstatic. I didn’t experience anything close to pleasure.
    The next morning, I woke with a sick feeling of dread, like I had lost my head and murdered someone. It would have been different if it had felt good. All the lightness of heart, joy, and sweetness of my fresh youth were snuffed out of me at the moment of penetration. And the worst part was, there was no going back. If it really was a mortal sin, I had one on my soul. But there was no way I was going to tell this one in confession. My spirit felt limp and blackened. I didn’t like the feeling of the sex, after all. It was harsh and it hurt.
    I got my period that month, so I guessed his pulling out worked.

CHAPTER 12 THE NIGHT MY LIFE CHANGED FOREVER

C HAPTER 12
T HE N IGHT M Y L IFE C HANGED F OREVER
    The thing was, I didn’t care so much about doing the wrong thing when I had the softening effects of alcohol in my bloodstream. Alcohol served as an effective off-switch to my annoying conscience. I was new to drinking. A few months ago, I’d been introduced to gin when, Lennie and Kurt, Mick’s friends brought some spiked cokes to a Glenbrook South tailgate party.
    At first the taste was gross. I sipped it slowly. By the time the bottle was half empty, it went down easier and my body felt like marshmallow. My words came easily and seemed enlightened, on the verge of genius. I was finally the person I always wanted to be: confident and self-assured. I had a couple more. It was all good until the next morning, when I suspected that my drunken happy was more of an obnoxious blunder. I cringed with embarrassment. Did I tell Mick I wanted to be his forever? Oh, geez.
    We were all underage, but we could score booze by waiting in the liquor store parking lot for a likely prospect. We approached the weathered wino-men who looked like they needed a drink or the very young, hip, and cool looking types. Mostly we put Mick’s friend Lennie up to it, because he was tall and looked the oldest. Lennie would do anything for a friend: he was a bit klutzy, hence the nickname from the character in Of Mice and Men . He was spontaneous, and a likeable guy.
    Once I experienced the appeal of alcohol, it was cheaper and easier to lift it from my father’s liquor cabinet, which was well stocked for his poker parties. I took a little of each type to fill my 7-Up bottle so the lowered levels would go unnoticed: an inch of gin, one of vermouth, and just a splash of scotch. Dad drank the scotch; if the bottle was noticeably empty, it would be a red flag. Then came some Jack Daniels, Kahlua, and, to top it off, Cointreau. It was a nasty concoction, but we called it “Love Potion No. 9.”
    If my line of morality was muddy, kissing and drinking were the combination that erased the line altogether. I