The Mechanic's Daughter

The Mechanic's Daughter Part 10 :Cheryl's way

Cheryl was dressed to kill; jeans that looked painted on and a shirt the colour of the ocean that outlined every generous curve in her body. Her hair, nearly as long as mine, fell fair and luxuriantly wavy over her shoulders. Her face was very carefully made up, so it looked as if her skin was translucent, an effect I tried but failed to achieve. It was Boxing Day before she showed up at my house. She said she had to work right up to Christmas Eve. We sprawled in our living room, the lights of the tree turned on, gifts still strewn across the floor.

"So, tell me. College boys – are they more fun?"

"I've had exactly four dates. No one I wanted to stick with." Since September, I've dated boys who talked about cars, boys who discussed the features of the stereo they bought with their student loan and boys so drunk two hours into the evening that I dumped them and drove home. They all asked me my star sign. "Pisces," I said, "as slippery as a fish." They had a tendency to tell me early in the evening that I'm sweet or adorable or some similar adjective. It always put my back up. I may be small, but no one with an ounce of perception would think me sweet.

"Hmmm... You don't let them get close to you." She shook her head. "My count is up to six now. It's fun, but I know what you mean about no one you want to stick with."

Cheryl thought of me as too cautious, looking maybe for the wrong thing. She was living out the sexual revolution – take the chances that the birth control pill allowed women to take. Barbara would say she had every right. Men certainly slept with whoever they wanted without worrying what anyone would think. I wondered at times how she disconnected her body from her heart. Or perhaps sex with a series of men was a way of hardening the heart against life's further shocks. In other words, getting over Jimmy.

"I just wish Mom wasn't so fixated on getting me married off. Ever since Paul." Mom kept asking why I was out late, obviously disappointed when I said I was with my women friends.

"God. Don't get me started on my mother. I've been home three days and she's driving me nuts. She keeps going on about not getting a reputation when I tell her I'm dating these guys. We're not supposed to want it, Brenda. Even if we're not virgins, we're supposed to behave like we are." Cheryl sounded uncannily like Marion.

Cheryl leaned forward and undid the top two buttons of my white cotton blouse. "Let's go to a party. I met this guy Roger and he invited me."

It's a different sort of party to the Christmas bash at Barbara's. I have to park far down the drive and as we approach the house, we can hear the music thumping out. Inside, it's hot and smoky, a few people I knew from high school and many more packed into a old farmhouse. It was standing room only in the kitchen, the counter piled with used glassware. Cheryl and I stood together and shouted at each other until Roger turned up. Tall and blonde, he came up behind her and swept aside her hair so he could kiss the back of her neck.

"Hey!" She pulled away. "Ask permission."

He looked aggrieved. "Just a taste of what's to come." He offered to get her a drink and proposed taking her somewhere, anywhere, better than this party.

"No. I want to stay a while with my friend." Cheryl gestured to me and Roger gave me a baleful look. He found a spot free on the couch and sat scowling at us.

"Where did you meet?" I asked her.

"Another party. But he has a brother and let me tell you about him."

She'd always told me everything and this story was racier than most – because she'd spent the last few weeks playing the two men off one another. A dangerous game, it seemed to me. It was like she wanted to try the limits of what a woman could get away with.