Milked

Meghranush | first hangover.

Saturday morning, I awoke with a headache. I tried to eat some sliced strawberries, but they only reminded me of that fruity drink Shane had made me, and that made me feel queasy. This was what they called a hangover. I didn't like it.

Taking a shower and getting myself ready made me feel a little better, but my head still throbbed slightly and my stomach still protested every time I went near the refrigerator.

I set out my textbooks and attempted to do my homework, wishing I'd known better than to drink however much I'd drunk the previous night.

In the midst of my studies, I heard someone at the door.

Hesitantly, I opened it, wondering who'd be here to see me. I still hadn't told Richard where I lived, and I didn't have many other friends. I guessed I would find one of Skylar's college-boy whatever-they-were-to-her, so I wasn't surprised when Loren stood in front of me.

"Sorry Loren; Skylar isn't here."

"Really?"

"Really. She wasn't here when I come home last night, either. I received the 'I'm not dead but I'm at work' text an hour ago. Pretty considerate of her."

"I was actually hoping to talk to you, anyways."

Okay. He remembered seeing me last night. I had seen him hugging Shane, trying to kiss him, telling him he loved him and trying to get him to say it back. "You know I know about you and Shane, and you don't want me to tell Skylar."

"Something like that."

"Why?"

"Because I like Skylar. A lot."

"I really don't think she would care. In fact, I think what happened with Shane would make a lot more sense to her, after that." My voice remained level, but I wanted to scream at him, to tell him Shane loved him and it was breaking his heart to see Loren fool around with Skylar. It didn't feel like my place. Not yet.

"Well," Loren said, "I plan to tell her myself, just not yet. Can you respect that wish, please?"

"Does it occur to you that you might be hurting Shane's feelings?"

"Please. Shane is going to get a job as some successful engineer somewhere, he's going to move away from this desert hellhole, and he's going to forget about me."

Oh yeah? He'll forget about his dessert in the desert? "Fine. But know that I'm really bad at keeping secrets." Maybe that wasn't the truth. Maybe I had gotten better at secret-keeping. I thought about telling Loren I knew more than he knew I knew; I knew about what he did for money, and I could tell Skylar if I wanted to. I had leverage over him.

But I didn't. It didn't feel right, and I felt somehow bigger holding on to his secret.

I shut the door, his secrets still safe with me.

Later, I got a text from Shane, and just like that, I felt better. He asked me how I was, told me he was sorry if he made me feel like I needed to leave in a rush, asked me if I wanted to talk about Richard (I didn't).

He also asked me about Skylar, which made me feel bad for him, because I had just learned Loren liked Skylar a lot. I told him she hadn't come home last night. I thought about telling about Loren's surprise request, but on a second thought, I decided it would just make him feel bad, and I didn't want to make him feel bad. I did wish he would move on from Loren, but I wouldn't be the one to tell him that, especially since our friendship was only a day old.

Our texting continued well into Sunday, only interrupted by my mother, who enjoyed calling me weekly. I had been dreading her call, and I only answered because not answering would be uncharacteristic and a cause for her concern.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hello, darling. How are you?"

"Just fine."

"And school?"

"Just fine."

"How's work?"

"Just fine." I hated lying like this. My mom knew I worked at a restaurant, but that knowledge was a lie: I no longer worked at a restaurant.

"Did you go to church this morning?"

My parents' favorite church was nearby, and I had promised them I would try to go sometimes. I never went, though, because I felt disconnected from all the other people who went there. They all knew so much more about my heritage than I did; they cared so much more about the injustices our people had faced. They all knew Armenian; I only knew a little. 

I knew how to say the common prayers. I knew how to pray for wisdom.

Eemasdootyoon Hor Hisoos,
Door eents eemasdootyoon,
Ezparis khorhel yev khosel yev kordzel
Arachi ko hamenayn jam.
Ee char khorhertots, ee panits
Yev ee kordzots pergya zees.
Yev voghormya ko araradzots yev eents pazmameghis.

None of the young women who attended that church would get on a site like Make Arrangements.

Have Mercy on me, Jesus, for the great sinner that I am, to go and join a site like that, all for the sake of money.

"I've been kind of busy," I told my mother, ashamed.

"You're not very talkative, Meghranush."

"Sorry, Mom. I'm just tired and busy."

"Is anything on your mind?"

I wished I could tell her, but what would I say? That I let an old man give me a lot of money without making sure I knew what he wanted in return? My family didn't immigrate to the land of opportunity so I could sell my body. My great-grandma had immigrated so our family could be saved, saved from genocide, saved from the aftereffects of the genocide, saved from religious persecution. So that eventually I, her great-granddaughter, could do something more with my life, something admirable.

My parents remained unaware that a rich lawyer had pre-purchased my sins and I had already spent the advance, squandering my religious freedom like I squandered money.

The relationship between my father and I had been splintering since my youth, because he didn't like all of the American ideals and attitudes I'd adopted from my peers; he didn't like how disinterested I seemed in our history and culture; he didn't like how I would carry on our lineage. To hear I had adopted whatever ideals and attitudes that had led me to join what Skylar might have rightfully called a prostitution site would kill him.

"Nothing is on my mind, Mom. I love you. I love Dad, too. Please tell him."

"I will. We will talk soon, and maybe you won't be so busy."

"Maybe."

"I love you, Meghranush."

After I hung up, I found myself looking through the contacts in my phone, where I found Lizzy, the girl in my program who introduced me to Make Arrangements, the girl who'd made it sound so glamorous. After a moment's hesitation, I pressed the button to call her.

It rang three times and she answered. "Meg?"

"Lizzy! Hi."

"What's up?"

"I just wanted to ask. Um. How's your companionship with Arthur going?"

"It's great! He's so nice."

"Do you still set... boundaries?"

"Of course."

"So you still just let him touch your—go to second base?"

There was a pause. "We've graduated to third base. He wanted more, and he even offered me more, and I didn't want to lose him as a companion. I swear, though, it takes him like...two minutes to get off. Not a big deal." Lizzy started laughing. "And now, I have a sexy new Lexus!" 

I tried to laugh here with her, but my laughter probably sounded ungenuine, or maybe even afraid, because suddenly I imagined going to third base with Richard.

"Did you end up signing up?" Lizzy asked me.

"I did."

"How's your companion?"

"He's nice. Really nice."