The Girl Who Speaks With Algebra

25: Paige Down

I didn't want to immediately start berating this 'Monica', who had presumably hurt Paige. I'd already unthinkingly targeted Charlotte, plus for all I knew, Paige still had feelings for her first girlfriend. But Paige's lips were now as closed as her eyes, and I felt like I could only bite my tongue for so long. "Should I ask which of you broke it off?" I ventured at last.

"Oh, she did." Paige's eyes reopened. "Sorry. Trapped in a memory. Uh, yeah, Monica, very carefree attitude, cute dimples, dark hair, and despite having her own breasts, she had a peculiar fascination with mine."

"Well, it IS important to check for lumps."

"You silly dip," Paige admonished, even as a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "That summer, in addition to typical social gatherings, I snuck out of the house more than once to see Monica in private. One August afternoon, her parents were away, and we got to reading these stories online, and one thing kind of led to another..." She rubbed her forehead. "It wasn't like page 36."

"More like Paige 69?" I ventured.

She eyed me. "Rose, if I were to gag you for the remainder of this conversation, would you promise not to enjoy it too much?"

"I am SO sorry. Continue."

"No, no, it's fine, you're reading me properly. I kind of want you to offer up a little levity. Thing is, you're off target, there was no 69. We did more of a leg scissoring, um, thing. Still it was enough to, um, yeah, some French call it 'la petite mort'?" Paige squirmed on the bed. "My first one with a girl."

"Gotcha." Heavy stuff. How does one lighten the mood on that? "So, hmmmm, what in here were you proposing to gag me with?"

"A spoon."

"Like, ohmigawd."

Paige laughed. "Tabarnak, you're amazing."

Her smile didn't last. "So, up to that day, I guess I'd been holding out a vague hope that I was bi or something, and could simply turn off the girl part later in favour of amping up the guy part. But that day, with Monica, it clicked. So if there HAD been any chance of redemption, I'd now shot it all to hell. Literally. Meaning I was at my most vulnerable." Paige rubbed her forehead. "Which is when Monica started pulling away."

"Meaning I'm hating her a bit now. For the record."

"Hey, if I'd stayed with her, the two of us might never have become a thing," Paige pointed out.

"Did Monica at least let you down gently?"

"She told me that, despite what she'd said to me, we were never really in love. That we young, experimenting, seeing what worked – and we weren't working. I think maybe, she'd had it better with her first girlfriend."

"HATING her. Sorry, I know it's petty, but no one who hurts you like that is getting hugs from me."

"It's all right. In a perverse way, I'm glad you feel like that." Paige ran her fingers back through her hair. "Know what? I actually got rid of my twintails in Grade Nine."

That felt like a non sequitur. I searched for the link. "Did Monica want you to put them in again?"

"No, I did it myself. After Monica. In my senior year. The same year I stopped wearing the cross. In retrospect, I suppose I was trying to start over, perhaps even to recapture my lost innocence."

"Paige, I want to hug you so bad."

"Wait. Please. I want to use my own strength to get through this, and it gets worse." Paige looked to the sky, and then buried her face down in her hands. As much as I was trying to keep the memories from making this too depressing for her, I knew I was fighting a losing battle.