Glen slipped his hand onto my knee. The feel of his hot fingers on my leg startled me. I pushed his hand away. Ten minutes later he put his arm on the rest between us and brushed his hand against my right breast. This time I was so alarmed that I screamed out loud.
“Relax Leena,” he whispered in my ear. “I actually like your exotic looks. I’m the only one in school who does.” I couldn’t process what he was saying because I saw the silhouette of his hands approaching me in the flickering lights of the movie theatre. Glen attempted to lift my sweater up and slide his hand under the fabric despite the fact that I was clawing my fingers into his palms. My nails were so deep into his flesh I was sure I was going to draw blood and have to find a way to explain the stains to my mother.
“Stop it!” I whispered and then with more panic and insistence, “Stop it! Glen, no! Stop that!”
“Don’t make me call the usher on you!” I heard a voice from the row above us shout. “Cause they will hose you horny bastards down!”
“Doug was right.” Glen growled at me, finally giving up. “Indian girls are all stupid virgins!” Then he threw his middle finger up in the air to the person behind us, and without one look back at me turned to Debbie Anderson sitting on his right and began to grope her instead. They left after the movie in the same car stranding me at the theatre.
I stood in the parking lot uttering every Hindi curse word I knew my mother would hurl at me when I tried to explain what happened. As I contemplated which would be worse, showing up three hours later than my curfew because I walked home or showing up in a police car because I got arrested for hitchhiking, I heard the voice from the row behind us shouting at me to get my attention.
“Where you heading?” she asked.
“I live on Elm drive,” I said, wiping tears from eyes.
“I live right near there. Want a ride? If you’re worried about stranger danger, I assure you I’m strange but you’re in no danger.”
“What’s stranger danger?”
“You’ve never heard the term stranger danger? Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”
“She told me not to talk to anyone.”
“Well that’s good advice too. My car is over here. Come on. My name is Mae.”
“I’m Leena.”
“Well Lee,” she said extending her fingerless gloved hand, “I’m happy to meet you.”
“Did you come here alone?” I said suddenly aware that she was all by herself at the movies.
“Yup. I don’t hang with the high school bunch much. I’ve seen you in school before.”
I didn’t want to tell her that I’d seen her too, mostly hanging out alone, wearing weird clothes and always smelling like some strange kind of herb. It didn’t really matter though. That night she was my salvation and for the next fifteen years my truest and dearest friend.
Clarissa clapped her hands to bring the ladies back to focusing on what she was saying. I fidgeted with the pillow underneath me causing it to quack and burp against the wooden floor. I felt even more uncomfortable and self-conscious. I looked at Mahjong. She had started to doodle vaginas on the opposite side of her order form. When she caught me staring at her, she smiled and lifted the purple penis to her lips flapping her tongue around the top of it.
“Okay, where was I ladies?” Clarissa said when the noise level had subsided. “Oh yes. Your orgasm! It’s all up here,” she said pointing to her head again. “I can’t stress that enough. You have to play the movie up here or it won’t happen. I don’t care what it is, just make it work up here and your orgasm will come…no pun intended!” Clarissa didn’t wait for anyone to laugh, she redirected her attention and everyone else’s in the room to her tattered piece of paper. “True or false, it can take between ten and fifteen minutes for a woman to reach orgasm.”
Almost every woman in the room shouted true in response and Mahjong lifted her head long enough to say “Fuck that, I need an hour!”
“True or false, approximately 80% of all males reach orgasm within two minutes of entering the vagina.” Clarissa had barely finished asking the question when Mahjong shouted, “It’s true! But he never gets a second date from me!”
Clarissa smiled. “You’re right, it’s true. And what a difference! Ten minutes for us and two minutes for them. That’s a whole hockey period! Or at least it can feel like one!”
Maybe that was the reason I never understood hockey, no matter how many times Manny tried to explain it to me. I would hear the word “icing” and all I could think about from that moment on was cake.
“Moving on, true or false, approximately 50% of couples experience sexual difficulties.” Suddenly everyone was quiet again. As the rum floated through my veins toward my brain I reasoned that with Manny our sex life might not have been a wild adventure ride but at least it was worth the price of admission more than half the time.
I felt heat rise in my chest as an unstoppable flood of memories from my past threatened to overtake me. My delectable suppressor was gone; not a drop of rum left in my stein. As I looked down at the last piece of ice floating at the bottom of my glass I heard Clarissa direct the question again to someone in the room. I was surprised to see her staring at me for the answer.
“I’m sorry?” I said choking back my own saliva. “What was the question again?”
“True or false, approximately 50 % of all couples experience sexual difficulties?”
Mahjong instantly rose to my defence.
“Why don’t we ask the bride-to-be that question?” Eventually all the women focused on Jenny. I heaved a deep sigh of relief as Mahjong put her hand on mine and squeezed it.
“Yes, Jenny!” one of the drunker girls said. “Tell us about your sexual difficulties with Johnny!”
“Your fiancé’s name is Johnny?” Clarissa asked. “So it’s Jenny and Johnny?”
Jenny smiled. She seemed to revel in the dreamy satisfaction of how people reacted to hearing their names together. Though Jenny had completed her degree in business at university and had interned with a top-ranking company, she chose not to take a permanent position in marketing but opted to work as a receptionist for a downtown law firm when she graduated. She wore very provocative clothes to work and enjoyed watching the young clerks fawn over her vying for her affections. She never let any of them get farther than a kiss on the cheek. The moment Johnny was hired to the firm with rumours of being fast-tracked for partnership she made her move like a well trained panther securing his undying love, a two carat ring and the promise she would never have to work again - all within eight months of his arrival.
“We don’t have any sexual difficulties,” Jenny said slurring her words. “We fuck like rabbits all the time! He’s an animal!”
“Woohoo!” several of the girls to the left and right of Jenny said at the same time.
“Well I’m happy for you. But the answer is true. Most couples experience sexual difficulties at some point. Communication is the key.”
I had heard it so many times before: Communication is the key. Communicate your needs to another and then they will know what makes you happy; communicate your goals at work and you will rise to the position you have longed for; communicate your feelings and others will listen with open hearts. When I communicated my needs to my mother, she told me to shut up and stop being so sensitive. When I communicated my need for more money at the accounting firm where I worked, my boss told me they were experiencing cut backs and instead gave me more work to do for the same pay. When I communicated feeling insecure about my body and the extra weight I had put on after we got married, Manny simply said, “All couples get fat after they get married.” The extra weight he gained on his long frame only made him look healthier while my extra poundage made