Sipping iced tea and in love with ease, Christine sat watching the sailboats go by. It was as if the boats themselves were sentient beings choosing to glide across the still lake, and not simply vessels operated by men of good pedigree. Christine had poured the tea into her mother’s brandy glass from the previous evening. Her mother had fallen asleep with it and there was just enough brandy left at the bottom that Christine could taste some with every sip.

Two weeks prior, Christine had given her first hand job to a boy in her class, so she was feeling very grown up. And a grown up would certainly sneak the last drops of her mother’s bender into her tea.

One boat looked like it was about to tip over and Christine felt a rush of panic, just for a moment. It reminded her of the moment of panic she had just before she spit on her right hand and appeased Gavin.

“Start with your left” her slutty friend Beth had told her. “That way you can finish strong.” Christine’s panic had caused her to forget her slutty friend’s advice and her finish was weak. Her arm had cramped up a minute before Gavin whisper/growled “where do you want it.”

“Want what?”

Christine pawed at her hair and took another sip.

Inside, her mother was starting to stir. When she woke up, she noticed her brandy was gone. She was proud that she’d remembered to put her glass in the dishwasher before going to sleep.

“Your dad loved sailing,” Christine’s mother exhaled from the doorway. She was wearing a slip and clutching a fresh snifter.

“He probably still does,” muttered Christine, her eyes darting across water. Christine’s father wasn’t dead. He was just in France having sex with a woman named Michelle and a man named Michel.

Christine’s mother smiled a tight smile and went back inside for an ambien and a nap.

Christine let her gaze drift over the boats to the sky where every cloud seemed to resemble Gavin’s penis. Her stomach knotted up.

She’d called Beth as soon as she left Gavin’s house.

“I did it.”
“You had sex?”
“No! No. Not that. The… h…j…”
“Oh good! Did he like it?”
“I guess so. Will this stuff hurt my hair?”
“No. Did you remember to start with your left?”
“Well whatever. Bye”

Tears welled up in Christine’s eyes. She decided that it was because she thinks sailboats are just so pretty. Which is a very grown up thing, indeed.

Julia Weiss is a writer, improviser, and actress. Julia has a big heart and a tiny bladder. Julia likes baths and wine. @weiss_tea.

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