Jennifer Greene - Ain’t Misbehaving

“That one won’t go, love. People change. I expect to still be getting to know you fifty years from now.” When she parted her lips, Mitch raised a firm fingertip to them. “You want time,” he said softly.

She nodded unhappily, miserable at the thought that she was hurting him. She didn’t want time-she wanted to give him time…but she couldn’t tell him that.

“So you’ll have your time. A little of it, Kay.” His dark eyes seared hers. “I already know that time is the most precious commodity there is. Don’t waste a second of it, Kay. You can never have it again.”

“Mitch-”

He stood up abruptly, turning away from her. Something had changed in Kay’s feelings; he didn’t know what it was. She’d shown no hesitation in pursuing the relationship…until now.

Until they’d made love. Dammit. Had he failed her?

“Oh, yeah? So how exactly are you supposed to tell when it’s love and when it’s just sex, anyway?”

Why, Kay thought wryly, did her ninth graders have to ask the really big questions today? It was the last day before Christmas holidays; now her ninth graders had decided to get into it?

“If you want a pat answer to that one, I don’t have it,” Kay admitted. She had divided the class into discussion groups, and she’d made the unfortunate mistake of pausing by her six most inquisitive girls. Sprawled on the floor, festooned with pinned-on holly and Christmas bells, the ninth graders looked too young to be asking such questions. “No one’s ever been able to come up with an exact list of symptoms of being in love.”

“But you said experimenting with sex just for sex’s sake was a sure way to get hurt,” Janey objected. A freckle-faced girl with a long ponytail, she habitually squinted and only wore her glasses during tests.

“I did.”

“So we were talking about really caring for somebody. How’s that wrong then, as long as you really care?”

Kay crouched down, the group moving to make room for her in their circle. “There is never anything wrong with your feelings,” she said gently. “We talked about that, and it matters that you understand and believe it. And I wasn’t trying to make a rule for you as to what you should or shouldn’t do with your boyfriend-or boyfriends. Your values are the ones that are going to have to determine that. I was suggesting that you see the difference between sexual feelings and love feelings. They can be related but they’re not the same.”

“Janey, you keep asking the same dumb questions,” Roberta said in a bored voice. “When are you going to get the picture? Sex is a big high. So is the free fall when you jump off a cliff. Landing is the cruncher, so don’t get carried away by the first big thrill.”

“I don’t remember putting it quite that way,” Kay said wryly.

“You didn’t have to,” Roberta said, leaning back with a yawn, all Miss Experience. “I never thought sex was all it was cracked up to be, anyway. I mean, why risk getting pregnant for a five-minute rush at a drive-in movie with a payoff of a Coke at McDonald’s afterward? No thanks.”

Janey’s eyes widened. “Have you really-?”

“We’re talking about values, ”Kay interjected rapidly. “Being sure that the pleasure of being physically close to someone isn’t all we’re really feeling when we call it love. Sexual feelings are so powerful at times that they can be confused with love. If you take your time, and know your partner well, you have a much better chance of being sure of your feelings. Now, does that help, Janey?”

Janey hesitated.

“She wants you to give her permission to go one more step with Jeff,” Roberta said wearily. “Miss Sanders isn’t going to do that, you fool. She just said that if you don’t feel sure about your own feelings, you should lay off until you do. In other words, tell him to get his hands up five inches or take a hike.”

“Roberta.”

“Sorry,” Roberta said unrepentantly. “I’ve liked this class, Miss Sanders,” she added. “You’re terrific, but sometimes you have to talk a little straighter. I mean, her boyfriend’s telling her to-” Kay’s hand clamped across Roberta’s mouth “-or get off the pot. And you’ve tried to tell her a dozen times that he doesn’t have the right to push. In other words, she should tell him to stick it up his-” Again, Kay’s hand sealed Roberta’s mouth.

The sound of the bell had never been so welcome to Kay’s ears.

When she left the school building, Kay noted speckles of white fluff in the air, but the snow really wasn’t trying very hard. A big, lukewarm, watery sun peeked out from behind a few gray clouds, and the sidewalks were wet.

Restlessness stole into her bloodstream, and refused to leave. The kids had been infected with it, except for that last class. Everyone was filled with that sense of anticipation that dominated the holidays. Expectations and anxieties and hopes, and suddenly the world turned high-strung.

Walking it off seemed the best answer. Mitch was out of town for the day. At home she had nothing more interesting to do than clean; being Kay, she had already bought most of her presents by Thanksgiving. That would have left the tree still to do, but Mitch had taken care of that three days before.

A fleeting smile touched her features, and then died. Mitch was serious about wanting to marry her. She was desperately serious about wanting to spend the rest of her life with him. She had no doubts whatsoever about her own feelings. When you found a man who shared the important things, a man who was a giver, who was intelligent and warm and gentle and exhaustingly creative when the lights were out…you latched on to him, and you didn’t let go.

It was Mitch’s feelings that increasingly concerned her. How many times had she said it to the ninth graders? First sexual feelings are incredibly powerful. But they aren’t necessarily love.

That shimmer of doubt kept edging up into her consciousness. Mitch hadn’t played before. Naturally, his feelings were running pretty strong and pretty sure-but just as naturally, they could be entirely sexual. When the fireworks simmered down, maybe he was going to wish he had a few more notches on his belt.

Who was kidding whom? She was a perky lady with big eyes and a nice figure…and she’d had the sense-and the bullheadedness-to coax him out of his shell. But she was hardly a femme fatale. With a little more confidence who was to say he couldn’t at least look around for a lady who was less rosy and more voluptuous and who could grow plants? That he’d get the invitations she had no doubt.

Since the weekend, she’d been trying to give him space. For weeks, they’d been seeing each other almost daily, and Kay couldn’t have felt worse, thinking up excuses why she was suddenly busy every day of the past week. On Wednesday, he hadn’t listened; he’d barged in with that huge crazy Christmas tree… They’d laughed so much…

And she’d sent him home alone, truthfully the last thing she wanted to do. But Mitch had to be sure of his feelings for her. A woman felt something special for her first lover; there was no reason why a man should feel any differently. That first introduction to sexual pleasures could overwhelm a relationship, and that was exactly what she was afraid was happening with Mitch. If she could talk to him…but Mitch was long on male pride, and his lack of experience was something he clearly hadn’t wanted her to be aware of.

Talking wasn’t the problem anyway. Time was. Time out of bed. Time for Mitch to see exactly what they had apart from sexual chemistry.

Time, Kay thought glumly. It sounded good, but after only a week without him, she was miserable. What if he used that time to look around and try his new wings on the rest of the female population?

***

Rhoda took one look at Mitch and burst into peals of laughter. “Merry Christmas, Santa!”

Mitch scowled. “Just tell me where I can get out of this outfit before I turn into a furnace.”

“Mitch, it’s adorable,” Rhoda protested teasingly.

Mitch glanced around the corridor and then pulled out the pillow that was padding his stomach. Dots of moisture beaded his forehead from the heat of the Santa suit. Kay had talked him into the charade…and truth to tell, he’d enjoyed every minute of it. Kay had wrapped the dozens of presents and put them in a huge sack. She’d also pasted on the cotton fluff that was itching his chin like poison ivy. It really wasn’t a nice thing to do to a man at five o’clock in the morning.

And now it was nine, and parents were starting to flood into the hospital. Kay and Mitch had thought about those first lonely hours when the children were awake and no one was there, when memories of other Christmases weighed down on them, when they pictured their siblings tearing the wrapping paper off presents around the tree at dawn…that was the hour Santa had decided to visit the hospital this year. And Mitch had the terrible feeling Kay was going to talk him into doing it next Christmas as well.

“I’ve lost Mrs. Claus,” Mitch growled to Rhoda.

“She’s in the nursery.” Rhoda’s eyes couldn’t stop teasing.

“I’ve also lost my clothes.”

“You know, just watching the two of you this year was almost worth having to work over the holidays.” Rhoda motioned to the supply room near the nurses’ station. “Kay stuck your clothes back there, if you really have to change.” Her eyes flicked past him and then widened. “Mitch,” she whispered.

Mitch pivoted around, to see a little boy trying to maneuver himself down the hall in a wheelchair. His eyes were like black diamonds, staring at Mitch. Mitch’s features softened; he wielded his all-but-empty sack in front of his now-too-flat stomach, and let out a brisk “ho-ho-ho” as he sauntered off, hot as an oven, to spread a little more Christmas cheer.