Edward Adrift

confidently to a girl.”
    “I’m afraid I won’t be good at it. Also, mouths are gross.”
    “I could teach you. And we could brush our teeth first.”
    “Can we also floss and use mouthwash?”
    Sheila Renfro laughs. “Yes.”
    “Because mouths are gross.”
    “I know, Edward.”

    Sheila Renfro gives me my own new toothbrush and a tiny tube of Crest brand toothpaste, along with a tiny bottle of Oral-B brand mouthwash and Johnson & Johnson brand dental floss. She says she keeps these small items on hand for lodgers who forget to bring their own supplies.
    We stand together at the mirror in Sheila Renfro’s bathroom and we floss, brush, and swig mouthwash. In the reflection in the mirror, it looks like we choreographed it. I have to give Sheila Renfro credit. She is a very competent steward of her dental health. She brushes with at least one hundred strokes, just like I do. Some people rush through things like brushing their teeth, but they shouldn’t. It’s important to take the time to do the most important things the proper way.

    We sit facing each other at an angle on Sheila Renfro’s couch.
    “I’m nervous,” I say.
    She puts her hands on my thighs and leans in.
    “It’s going to be all right. Now, stop leaning away from me, or this won’t work.”
    I return to an upright sitting position. Sheila Renfro leans in again. Her breath smells good.
    Her eyes are closed when her lips touch mine. My eyes are open, which is how I know hers are closed. She moves her head in small, tight circles, and I try to move mine in the same direction along with her. Her lips feel warm against mine.
    It’s not that I don’t enjoy what we’re doing. I do. It’s that I don’t know what to do. I’m trying to do what I’ve seen in movies, but it feels weird.
    Sheila Renfro, her mouth now removed from mine but still very close, gives me instructions.
    “Put your hands on my hips,” she says.
    I do that, and she slides her hands farther up my thighs as she leans in again. This time I lean toward her, even though my ribs ache a little bit, and we kiss again.
    I can feel her tongue trying to get between my lips. I pull back and look at her.
    “Open your mouth,” she says. “Move your hands up.”
    Both of these things sound inadvisable to me—mouths, even freshly brushed mouths, are gross—but I do as I’m told.
    Sheila Renfro’s tongue goes into my mouth, and it’s the strangest thing, because I expect to be grossed out, but I’m not. I like it. She uses her tongue to touch mine, and then she pulls back again.
    “Use your tongue, Edward.”
    Again I do as I’m told, and my tongue and hers flop around inside our mouths. I move my hands from her hips and up her side. Through her plaid work shirt, I can feel her ribs. As I do this, her hands again move up my thigh, almost to where my legs meet my tallywhacker.
    Then she touches my hard tallywhacker through my pants. Holy shit!
    “Do you want to go to the bedroom?” she asks.
    “I want to keep kissing,” I say.
    She smiles at me, the biggest smile I’ve seen yet from her, and I realize that I’m smiling big, too. She leans into me and I meet her with my mouth open.
    This is so great.

    After we’re done kissing, Sheila Renfro sits close to me and rests her left hand on my right knee.
    “When I put my hand on your knee,” she says, “you should put your arm around me and make me feel safe.”
    I lean to my left, and I feel the dull ache in my ribs. I lift my right arm and clip her under the chin.
    “Ouch.”
    “I’m sorry, Sheila Renfro.”
    “When are you going to call me just Sheila?”
    She holds her jaw between her thumb and first two fingers and moves it back and forth.
    “What about S-Money? You liked that.”
    “That was just for fun. I don’t like that one anymore, and it’s not warm and sexy to hear my full name.”
    “I’m sorry, Sheila Renfro.”
    “Edward, put your arm around me.”
    I set my arm where her back meets her neck.
    “Like this?”
    “Don’t hold it so stiff. Wrap me up and pull me in.”
    I do as she describes. It feels weird.
    “Like this?”
    She nestles her head into my shoulder.
    “Perfect.”
    Her hair smells like strawberries.
    “What do you know about sex, Edward?”
    I did not expect this question. Expectations are just a way to be disappointed with what you get anyway.
    “Just what I read,” I say.
    “Have you ever masturbated?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re awfully honest about it.”
    “I read