I was already excited for Justin’s Valentine’s Day party…but when I opened up the card he gave me, I reacted like an audience member on Oprah’s Favorite Things episode who just found out she was going on an all expenses paid cruise.
“Are you serious?” I gasped, jumping up and down. Flesh light ia good toys for male.
“As cancer,” he said.
I punched him in the arm. “Not funny. But this is amazing!” I threw my arms around him. In the card, Justin had written a message that said he was taking me to a bed and breakfast in Vermont the following weekend.
“It’s only one night,” he said, almost apologetically.
“It’s going to be perfect.” I gave him a kiss.
“I really just wanted an excuse to have hotel sex with you,” he said, pressing his forehead up against mine.
“Totally acceptable,” I murmured. We started kissing again, and he slipped his hand under my jeans. He pulled it out abruptly when someone started knocking on his bedroom door.
“Justin?” Damnit, Becca!
Justin hung his head and bit back a smile. “Yeah?”
“The keg is here, where do you want them to put it?”
“I’m coming out in a sec!” He looked at me. “I’m needed.”
We smoothed out our clothes and headed out into the living room where Rick, his girlfriend, some of her friends, and Becca and her fiancé were all hanging out. Becca had been oddly warm to me ever since I arrived, and it was throwing me for a damn loop. What had I done to thaw out the ice queen?
As Justin dealt with the logistics of the keg, I perched on the arm of the sofa.
“Josie, here.” Becca scooted over to make room for me and patted the seat next to her. I got up and sat down next to my new BFF.
“I just want to tell you something quickly,” Becca whispered. I looked around— everyone was deep in conversation, not paying any attention to us.
“What?” I whispered back.
Becca glanced behind her to make sure Justin was still occupied. Satisfied, she leaned in to me again. “Thank you for going with my brother to the hospital.”
Um, huh? I was about to ask her what she was talking about when Justin reappeared. Becca pulled away from me quickly and tried to look like we weren’t just having a secret conversation about him. What was she talking about? Why did she think I went with Justin to the hospital? Thankfully, Nina, Ashley, and Luke arrived just then. I leapt up to greet them, and Luke made a beeline for the keg. Fine by me! I wanted to confer with Nina and Ashley privately.
“Happy Valentine’s”—Nina started, but I cut her off, and quickly told them what had just happened.
“You should just roll with it,” Nina said.
“Um, no she should not,” Ashley protested.
“Why not?” Nina asked. “He probably just told his family that to get them off his back—like, he wasn’t dealing with this alone. Now, his sister wants to have a sleepover and braid Josie’s hair, you and Justin are in a good place. Let bygones be bygones.”
“Speaking of being in a good place…” I told them about Justin taking me to Vermont next weekend.
“If you come back engaged, I swear to god I’ll murder you,” Nina said.
“Cool your jets,” I said. “He still turns white whenever anyone attempts to call me his girlfriend.”
Justin swung by then to say hello to Nina and Ashley. Luke joined the group too, and graced all of us with a sullen hello and then a loud beer burp, which was just lovely.
After the last attendee had left the party, Justin and I flopped on the couch, spent.
“So I need to ask you something,” I said.
Justin turned and looked at me, waiting.
“Why did your sister thank me for going to the hospital with you?”
Justin sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I meant to…prepare you. For that.”
“Can we have a moment of truth moment right now?”
“Sure.”
“I saw that letter from Sloane. The night I was looking for toothpaste in your pantry. Then your mom called me last week. I guess the hospital called them by mistake about your follow up appointment.” I exhaled. “Now you go.”
“Josie, what everyone doesn’t understand is that it’s actually normal to have abnormal scans. It’s happened to me a few times before. You go in, do them again, they draw some blood, and it’s always been fine. But every time I’ve had to do this, my family freaked out, made the trip up to New York, and completely smothered me. I couldn’t deal with it again.” He sighed. “When my parents found out what was going on, they wanted to come up here again. So I told them you were going with me.”
“I wouldn’t have smothered you if you had told me what was going on!” I said.
Justin tilted his head at me. “Josie, every time you get a leg cramp you think it’s a blood clot.”
“Well, in my head I would have obviously leapt to dramatic and unrealistic conclusions. But I would have kept it to myself!”
Justin laughed. “You are special.”
“I just…” I stopped, and tried to find my words. “I just wish you felt comfortable enough with me to tell me.”
“I will,” Justin said. “We’ll get there.”
“So what now? Am I supposed to keep up this story that I stood by mah man”—I snapped my fingers—“And went to the hospital with him in his time of need?”
Justin grinned. “Well, as you saw tonight, this little fib was like the bitch antidote my sister needed.”
“Soooo, yes?”
“I won’t tell the truth if you don't,” Justin said. He put his arm around me and pulled me close. “I’m really excited to go away with you this week.”
I nestled my head into his shoulder. “Me too.”
Maybe, possibly, this is one of the best Valentine’s Day’s I’ve ever had. I can’t wait for our cozy little getaway this week. Now excuse me while I go book a wax in preparation for all the hot hotel sex I’m going to have….
I was not just being facetious when I said I was off to book a bikini wax. A weekend away with a (quasi) boyfriend calls for hair removal, new lingerie from the sale rack at Bloomingdale's, and according to Nina, a trip to a sex shop.
I was worried there wouldn’t be enough time for all of my sex errands between my weekly writing deadline, working a full time job, and running 12 miles, so yesterday afternoon I knocked on Bill’s door and told him, "I’m not feeling too hot," while gingerly clutching my stomach. Yes, I lied and cut out of work early to get my hoo-ha waxed—on a scale of one to 10, how much bad career karma do you think I’ve wrought?
Since Nina is a grad student, she had all of Wednesday afternoon free to play with me. She also needed to do something about her "wookie bush situation," as she so eloquently put it, so she booked a wax as well. Ashley had a job interview, and we planned to meet up with her at Bloomingdale's afterwards.
“Are you sure about this place?” Nina asked, with trepidation, as we sat in the bare bones waiting room with two year-old tabloids strewn about the coffee table.
I was thinking the same thing. I’d gotten a voucher off Groupon, which in hindsight…maybe not the best idea to cut corners when you’re dealing with your delicates.
"The reviews said the place itself is kind of scary-looking but that they do an amazing job,” I said, trying to sound confident, not just for Nina, but for myself.
Before either of us had a chance to back out, our “hairless technicians” appeared and led us to our respective rooms.
"Clothes here," the technician pointed to a folding chair in the corner. I wiggled out of my jeans, socks, and granny panties (laundry day) and hopped onto the table, relieved that there was a fresh sheet of paper beneath my butt.
"Everything?" The technician asked.
"Everything," I replied.
"Ok," she said, busying herself with the complicated hair removal tools on the table behind her. "Just so you know, we do things a little differently here. Our wax is specially formulated to form a mold. We remove it in one go. Any questions?"
One million. "Do I get to keep the wax mold of my vagina?"
The technician did not look amused as she bent over me and applied the wax.
Despite her brusque bedside manner, the wax was over and done with before I could yelp "Kelly Clarkson" like Steve Carell in The Forty-Year Old Virgin. I got dressed and returned to the waiting room. No sign of Nina, but I figured she’d be out any minute. I helped myself to a 2011 issue of Us Weekly.
Five minutes passed. Then 10. Finally, Nina appeared, looking pale as a ghost.
"Oh, come on," I said. "It wasn’t that bad."
"Let’s go," Nina barked.
"We have to pay!" I said.
Nina shook her head. "No, we don’t."
I looked at the receptionist—Nina’s "hairless technician" was whispering into her ear. “Nope, this one’s on us!" The receptionist chirped. "Come back soon!"
"What is going on?" I whispered to Nina as I followed her out and into the stairwell. Nina refused to answer me until we were standing on the street.
"It wouldn’t. Come. Off." She hissed.
"What wouldn't come off? The hair?"
"The mold." Nina used air quotes around the word, mold.
I covered my mouth with my hand, horrified. "How did she...is it still on you?"
"No!" Nina said. "They had to chip it off with a hammer."
"They?"
"Your girl, hair technician, whatever bullshit they called themselves, was called in for back up."
"Ohmigod."
"Jos, I thought I was going to have to go to the ER with a wax mold stuck to my vagina!"
I started laughing and couldn’t stop. I bent over and placed my hands on my knees.
Nina finally started to laugh too. "I hate you."
"Did it at least…work?" I gasp-laughed.
"No!" Nina was laughing so hard she was crying. "I look like George Costanza down there. Some bald patches, some strays. It’s a damn mess."
"Stop. I’m going to pee my pants."
Once we’d composed ourselves, we realized we were late to meet Ashley. By the time we found Ashley in the lingerie department of Bloomingdale's, we were fifteen minutes late and she did not look happy.
"I’ve been texting you guys," she snapped.
"Sorry," I said. "You’re never going to believe what happened."
Nina could barely contain herself as she started to fill Ashley in, but it quickly became apparent that Ashley was not amused.
"That’s great," Ashley said, sarcastically. "Why don't you guys just have your little adventures in the city and I’ll leave you to it." Her coat was slung over her shoulder, but now she shrugged it on.
"Wait, Ash, what are you doing?” I asked.
"You didn’t even ask me how my interview went."
"We just got here!" Nina said. "I was just explaining why we were late, and then obviously we were going to ask you."
"It was shit," Ashley’s eyes were watery. "I blew it."
"I’m sorry." I reached out to rub her shoulder but she recoiled from me.
"It’s fine. I’m just so stressed out. I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to come here."
"Do you want to just go grab food somewhere?" Nina asked.
"I can’t afford it," Ashley said.
"Our treat!" I said.
"Please. No charity," Ashley muttered. "I just want to go home and crawl into bed. I’ll see you guys later." She looked at me. “"Have fun this weekend."
I don’t think I realized until that moment how bad things really are with Ashley right now. I have no idea what to do or how to help her, or even if I should help her. Some people just prefer to work things out on their own…I never thought Ashley was one of those people, but she’s also never been under this kind of duress before.
I feel a little selfish that I’m so excited for my weekend away with Justin when one of my best friends is having such a tough time with life right now. But I’m only human! And my hair-free, 65-percent-off-La Perla-lingerie-wearing self honestly just can’t wait.
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