Randa's Valentine

A short story

13th February, 2001...

CandyJewl45 (02/13/02 13:17): hi is this necco?

NeccoWafer : I am away from the computer right now. Deal with it.

CandyJewl45 (02/13/02 13:18): okay well i need to tell you sthg really importent so call me back ok, it's about ian? 641-269-3275

Randa gave her a hug. "Jesus, Necco, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well, I'm just glad the semiliterate little bitch got it off her conscience."

"I can't believe her timing..."

"I should have known," Necco said, lying back on her bed. "I should have seen it coming."

"You're the only person who's not to blame here, Nec."

"I should have broken things off when he left for that godforsaken flatland. I shouldn't have asked him to live celibate amongst the corn fields for me. I mean, I knew how he gets when he's had too much to drink. My expectations were unrealistic."

"Fuck, Necco, he was your boyfriend!" Randa said. "Not sleeping around was basically his entire job, in Maryland or in Iowa!"

"I appreciate the righteous indignation, Randa Bear." Necco sighed. "I think I'm just going to go to bed right now, if you don't mind—I'll still be broken-hearted in the morning. You can leave the light on, I'll be fine."

Randa glanced over at the clock. "But it's only eight."

Necco shrugged. "Well, I might need some gin."

"Never drink when you're sad, Nec. Especially not alone."

"You're just not going to leave me alone, are you, Randa Bear?"

"If you really want me to, I will."

Necco sighed. "Well, I guess we'd better find a couple of mostly clean glasses, then."

"So tell me, Randa—what was your worst Valentine's Day?"

"Worst Valentine's? That's not really an easy choice."

"Oh, come on. Pick one."

Randa looked uncomfortable. "Well, to be honest, I've never really had an interesting Valentine's either way. I always just stay at home and try to pretend that it's February 15th."

"You've never done anything on Valentine's Day?"

"Fuck, Necco, I've basically never done anything period. I've decided I'm a practicing asexual."

"I don't believe you. Men don't interest you at all? You never just feel like you need sex?"

"Maybe, but I've just never felt like involving anyone else."

"That's pretty depressing, Randa."

"Sorry. I kinda forgot I wasn't supposed to be depressing you."

"No, it's fine, I can pretend to try and fix your troubles and ignore my own. Don't guys ever hit on you? You're smart, you're witty, you're a sultry little sexpot..."

"Sexlesspot," Randa said. "Okay... can I tell you something I've never told anyone, ever?"

"Randa Bear, if there's one thing I can do, it's keep a secret."

"Okay, well—the only person who ever hit on me who I was at all interested in wasn't... exactly male."

"Oh," said Necco.

There was an awkward pause.

"So... did you go with her?" Necco finally asked.

"Necco!" Randa cried indignantly. "I'm not like that!"

"You're not like easy or you're not like gay?"

"Neither," Randa said. "I mean, I've never so much as kissed a girl."

"But you don't like kissing guys?"

"Well... it's not unpleasant or anything. I'd rather kiss a guy than, say, get kicked in the head. Look, I just haven't met the right guy, okay? Why are we still talking about this?"

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"How about that gin?"

The brief diversion caused by Randa's apparent partial outing didn't last long. The (warm) gin and tonics reminded her too much of her first drink, mixed for her at a lifeless party by a tall swimmer with freckles on the bridge of his nose... and, as she would discover, elsewhere. She wanted to be able to crawl back into the shell Ian had pulled her out of, but she had eaten the pomegranate seeds, and it was too late to return to Randa's blissful isolationism. She had another gin and tonic to help her forget everything the first gin and tonic had reminded her of.

"I should get to bed," Necco said, a few hours and much of a bottle of gin later.

"You sure you're okay?" Randa said.

"No," Necco admitted.

"Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?"

"I can't ask you..."

"You'd do it for me," Randa insisted.

"But your own bed is like thirty feet away," she protested.

"Just until you fall asleep," Randa said. "I know you don't want to be alone."

And Necco had to admit she didn't.

Though Randa had offered to stay until Necco was asleep, it was Randa who succumbed first. Though Necco had sorely missed having a crowded bed since Ian's last visit, her roommate had curled up into a tiny snoring ball of bones and warmth in the small of her back.

"Wake up, Randa Bear. You're snoring."

"I never snore," Randa protested sleepily.

"Ha. I live with you, and I can confidently inform you that your pants are on fire."

"No, but my jeans are twisted uncomfortably."

"So take them off. We're all friends here."

"Yeah, alright."

A rustle of fabric, creaking mattress springs, and a flump as the cast-off jeans hit the floor. As Randa settled back into place, her warm, soft leg slid brushed against Necco's skin for an instant. Necco pondered this for a second, then realized why Randa's legs reminded her of Ian's.

"Randa, can I ask a personal question?"

Randa yawned. "Shoot."

"If you're a practicing asexual, why do you shave your legs?"

"Guess I'm still practicing."

"Always prepared, eh?"

"I should've been a Boy Scout."

"So why haven't you ever done anything with a girl, anyway?"

"Necco, I'm trying to sleep."

"Come on, answer the question."

"Because I'm not gay!"

"Stop obsessing over labels. You can like both genders, you know."

"Necco, I'm straight."

"So? Most straight girls put a few other girls on their 'would-hit-that' list. Nothing wrong with it."

"Oh yeah? Who's on yours?"

"Well... Angelina Jolie, I guess. Audrey Tautou is definitely cute."

"Everyone wants to have sex with Angelina Jolie. She probably makes herself horny. Anyway, celebrities don't count."

Necco shrugged. "Well, there's that one girl in our lit class, Elizabeth. She's pretty cute."

"You'd have sex with Beth Cohen?"

"Well... if it ever came up, maybe. Be honest, wouldn't you?"

"If I wanted to sleep with a skinny girl with no tits, I'd masturbate."

"Breasts are overrated."

"Funny how only girls with perfect boobs ever say that, isn't it?"

"Perfect? Tell that to my spinal column. Actually, speak of the devils, I really need to do something about this damn bra. I forgot to take it off earlier."

Another rustle and creak and a softer flump as Necco sat up and fumbled around under her shirt and tossed the offending garment into the darkness. It landed neatly on Randa's jeans. Necco suddenly realized that Randa wasn't going back to her bed any time that night.

"Have you unleashed the beasts?" Randa asked as Necco lay back down.

"Yeah. So you're a breast girl, I take it?"

"I'm not an any-female-body-part girl. I'm a penis girl through and through."

"Sure. So what did the girl who hit on you look like?"

"Christ," Randa said. "This is ancient history, Nec."

"I like history."

Randa sighed. "It was just some girl at a party. For fair trade or something, I don't remember. We got to talking, I didn't realize she was flirting with me, then she asked point blank if I wanted to come back to her place."

Necco laughed. "You must have been flirting back!"

"No! She was just some socially inept science dork who misinterpreted the situation!"

"But what did she look like? Was she cute? You said you were tempted!"

"She was good-looking enough for a girl, I guess—from an academic standpoint, I mean. I can see how a lesbian might find her attractive, anyway. A bit butchy, but not unfeminine."

"Oh yeah? And you hit it off, did you?"

"I dunno—it was a good conversation, but she was a bit intimidating. Said she grew up on a farm, in Indiana or Illinois or somewhere. Fucking flyover states, they're all the same."

"Was she all like wearing flannel shirts and chewing on a stalk of grass?"

"No! She was wearing a shirt with some dorky physics joke on it."

"A nice tight-fitting t-shirt that showed off her goods?"

"I can't say I noticed."

"Ha! I bet! She probably had to keep reminding you that her eyes were in her face."

"How many times do I have to say, Necco, I like boys! You know, the ones with the spermatazoa?"

"Okay, fine, like them all you want, but you like girls too!"

"I'm not gay! Do you know what my father would do if I was gay?"

"That seems less like a reason for why you're not than a reason for why you're so reluctant to say you are."

"What do I have to do? Do you want me to go down to the guys' floor so I can bring someone back here and show you?"

"Look, let's just drop it and get some sleep. We both have class tomorrow, and I suspect we're already bringing hangovers."

"Fine by me."

The rustle of the bedsheet in the brief silence.

"So you'd really sleep with Beth Cohen?"

Necco sighed. "If she could keep her mouth shut long enough, sure."

"Yeah, that girl really can run her fucking trap, can't she?"

"Yup."

Another brief silence.

"But would it even be sex without the penetration thing?" Randa asked, out of nowhere.

"I gather people get along just fine. Besides, there are certainly means of providing that."

"Yeah, I guess. I wonder what it's like, though."

"Are we admitting our curiosity?"

"I'm curious about lots of things. That doesn't mean I want to have sex with them."

"Look, Randa my dear, I don't care where on the Kinsey scale you are right now, we both need some sleep."

"Yeah, sure, Nec. Sorry."

A long silence this time.

"Necco? You still awake?"

Necco groaned. "Despite my best efforts."

"Do you have a type? In girls, I mean."

"What?"

"Well, you know... tall, skinny boys are your type, but what about girls?"

"I guess I tend to think girls are attractive who look different from me. Every woman hates her own body type."

"What do you mean by different? Like... short, petite, all of that?"

"I'm done with redheads, Miranda."

"What? No!" Randa said. "I wasn't... I mean, I'm not... you're my best friend, Nec, you know that. I was just curious, I guess. I don't really know any girls who, you know, find girls attractive."

"As Socrates supposedly said, know thyself," Necco said. "Now go to sleep."

"Yeah. Sure. Night, Necco."

"Night, Randa."

A thick silence, uncomfortable this time. The bedsheets didn't rustle, and the bedsprings didn't creak. The only sound was of quiet respiration—not the slow, smooth respiration of night but the jagged wakeful respiration of the day, and of the too-hot breath of the air duct.

Her repeated pleas aside, Necco knew she couldn't fall asleep, not now. She was straight, she knew that. She'd been attracted to a couple of women—though nowhere near as much as she had allowed Randa to believe in her attempt to lure her out of the closet—but in her heart she was incurably heterosexual. But now, pressed up against a half-naked human being, her roommate and closest friend, who she knew had a crush on her, and with whom she had just spent several hours discussing sex, she wasn't at all sure that she was done with redheads. Later, when she tried to understand, she didn't know whether to blame the heartbreak, the gin, the hour, the confession, or perhaps just the fever of warmth and darkness that had infected her in the middle of the hot night.

The rustle of the sheets, the creak of the springs. Necco rolled over and looked into Randa's open eyes. Necco's hand brushed again against Randa's leg, so much like his; she had always loved the feel of his long, powerful legs shaved for a swim meet. She closed her eyes and was almost surprised when it wasn't Ian she was kissing.

The rustle of the sheets, the creak of the springs.

A whisper. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Characters:

• Necco
• Randa Crowley
• Ian MacDougal (mentioned in passing)