The Virginity Mission (7 page)

There's something about Jason I like. He's warm and caring, fun and easy-going, hot and sexy. I want to go further with him. What's more, I don't want anything getting in my way. I'm no longer after a one night stand, I want a relationship. That's stretching my goal much further. Am I ready for that? Is that what he wants?

Thinking about the possibility of a relationship consumes me so when I skid over bits of shale, I right myself automatically. My mind is full of what might be, causing bubbles of anticipation to gurgle inside me. Or maybe it's the effervescence of fear.

I make it down the shale-covered mountain with a new resolve. I have no idea how I've ended up like I have but it stops now. I'm seizing all life has to offer. I'm going to believe in myself. I'm going to see if I'm what Jason wants. What's the worst that can happen? He can say no. But at least I've asked.

On the morning of day seventeen, we know we're not going to make our rendezvous point today. We have at least a day to go, probably two. I can hear Jason's voice telling me not to keep him waiting. I pick up my pace trying to make us not go past day eighteen. It hurts. Walking downhill, even on normal mountains, is worse than going uphill and of course the last few days have been mostly downhill. Leg muscles scream either way but my thighs scream louder than my calves, and thigh muscles are the ones that hate going downhill. I push my screaming thighs. Silently I chant to ignore the pain.
Massage, sex, soak, sex, swim, sex, rub, sex, stretch, sex, relax, sex.
Something has to encourage me down that hill and the only word capable of drowning out my screaming thighs is ‘sex'.

The thought of ten days working on mangroves, no hills in sight and my nights spent with Jason, is a huge incentive. My legs are so weakened from the downhill trekking that I can think about heated sex scenes without any extra knee wobbling. My stomach churns and my pulse races, but they aren't unfamiliar either. Much of what I've encountered on this trip is as scary as any thought of being accepted, or rejected, by Jason. I keep up with the others so that we make our destination by early afternoon on day eighteen. I'm exhausted but only a day late.

And Jason isn't here.

Every part of my body screams, except my voice. I'd convinced myself rejection wouldn't hurt, but it does. Everything in my body is achingly sore. A bruised ego and cracked heart only add to the damage.

Neil, another army guy, is here to pick us up. Eighteen days I've waited. Dreams of Jason meeting us teased me down the hill faster than anyone thought possible. I promised myself so many things and he isn't here. Neil doesn't look at me, so he obviously has no message from Jason.

I climb into the 4WD with the others, keeping my eyes downcast. When we're dropped off I mumble my thanks. Neil makes no move to speak to me and I don't ask. My mind tells me all I need to know—I've deluded myself. Kidded myself that someone like Jason could be interested in me. I've tricked myself into believing in lust. I've focussed so hard on losing my virginity I've let logic fade away.

Shattered inside but determined to let no one know, I do what everyone else is doing: enjoy a hot shower with soap, eat a real meal with fresh food, drink icy cold fresh milk and flavoured cold drinks and sleep in a sleeping bag, alone.

It's only at night I allow myself to sob softly at my naïvety. By day, I sparkle. Nothing's wrong with me. Only darkness knows the truth. I'll never lose my virginity.

The next day we meet the mangrove team, who are real scientists from Townsville. It's incredible learning about mangroves, measuring and weighing trees, collecting and bagging leaves, pods and pneumatophores. Pneumatophores are the greatest things. They're those stick-like things that come out of the ground and help the plant roots to breathe. I love this work. We're so busy I think of nothing but mangroves. The biology of the mangrove system is fascinating and I can't learn enough about them.

During the days I'm too busy to think but the nights are difficult. Night is time alone to berate myself for my stupidity. I thought Jason cared about me. Sadly, the last few weeks away from him, I've built a relationship from nothing. I deluded myself with dreams and reality has hit me in the face with a sharp, stinging slap.

On the third morning I'm eager to get back to the mangroves after another night of self-recrimination. We go out and work hard. I like feeling the ache of my shoulders as I lug and weigh tree trunks and branches. Muscles hurt and heal. My heart is a muscle so it must be healing too. Picking mangrove leaves and filling a bag with them is satisfying. Struggling to get the huge, bulky bag hooked onto the scales is a moment of fun. The expanse of river amazes me, so much water. Beside the river the mangroves are like the rainforest, dense stands of vegetation that appear to be green, but once inside they're magical. The backs of the leaves are yellow, or orange, or grey and taste of salt. Roots, in shades of grey, brown and black, protrude from the water and the oozing mud. Some roots look like rib bones in the way they arc from the tree and vanish into the black soil. Other roots are great slabs of timber, curving like an entryway, welcoming you to the tree. And in behind the mangroves if you walk back far enough from the river, there's a gradual change where ferns and trees appear until it opens up to a forest.

The day is over and we're going back to camp. With night coming on my heart is heavy. As we pull into the boat ramp, something nags at my mind. The vehicle is parked differently. My breath skips, not enough so I'm holding my breath, just a little blip in the rhythm. The man beside the army 4WD is not Neil. That blip becomes a more pronounced stutter in my breathing. I look again. Blink hard. Stare. Dark hair. Broad shoulders.

It's Jason.

Jason.

Before there's time for anything other than a huge breath that stirs a hundred emotions, the assistant quartermaster appears beside him waving madly. My heart, which had started to thump loudly, falls to my toes. Fiona's with him? Standing next to him, laying her hand possessively on his arm, which he hasn't shaken off. I don't need a degree to put that together. She's waving as the boat slides into the boat ramp. I try to work away the huge lump in my throat. I try to be as happy to see them as everyone else is. I try not to be a jealous cow. I fail.

I slip from the boat and straggle up to the vehicle. My feet are heavy and my legs may as well be tree trunks. Fiona beams and laughs and jokes. Jason politely smiles at everyone. I dreamed of his smile, or a wink, especially for me. There's none.

It really is over before it started. The only good thing is no one knows. I couldn't handle anyone giving me pity. Imagine if I'd told Belinda or Annie and they were watching now with sad expressions on their face. Thank goodness, they're all laughing and oblivious to my pain. My heart is like shards of toffee.

“I thought I'd come out and surprise you guys.” Fiona waves her hands as she works her way around hugging each of us. “I brought you extra food. I thought you might need it. You guys went the farthest and had the least provisions. And you all look starving.”

Jason stares at me but I can't read his stare. It's heavy, intense and I know he's trying to tell me something but I don't know what it is. Fiona's in front of me and I collect my hug dutifully but I'm stiff. She gives me an extra squeeze which does nothing to relax me. I don't want a hug from her. I glance over her shoulder at Jason but he's turned away. I would have relaxed in his hug.

We pile into the vehicle for the run back to the caravan park. I know I should look into the rear vision mirror and catch Jason's gaze. I feel it on me during the short trip. But I can't. I don't want to see apology. I don't want to see pity.

Fiona makes things lighter. Her teasing nature brings out the best in everyone. Our group is full of laughter as the night progresses. I don't want to enjoy her company. I want to hate her but I can't. I learned long ago you can't hate women because men like them and not you. It's not easy to sit here with merriment surrounding me, when I'd much rather slink off and feel sorry for myself. Although, I've had two nights of wallowing in my misery so I probably should get over myself and try to enjoy the evening. Plastering a smile to my face is the closest I can get to merriment. It might take a few days for my ego to be soothed.

A while after dinner I realise Jason isn't with us. I saw him at dinner and we spoke to each other in the general conversation with others. I haven't tried to be alone with him. I'm a scaredy cat at heart. If I see him alone then the bubble really will burst and I'll have nothing to pull the shards of my heart back together. It hurts not talking to him and I hate being like this. I hate not knowing. Is it better to know?

It's frustrating being in a crowd of happy people when you're preoccupied. Is that why Jason left? I wonder if I can sneak off to be alone. Heck, where did my self-confidence go? First sign of trouble and it's fled. Is that what I always do?

This time I'm not going to stand aside. I made a decision on that shale hill slope and I'm sticking with it. I'm going to talk to Jason.

I move away, heading towards the toilet block as a deterrent should anyone wonder where I'm going. I've every intention of finding Jason and seeing where I stand. Neil camped a few sites away from us, closer to the beach. I hope Jason has the same site. Picking my way towards the site from the toilet block, I try to keep to the shadows so no one will see me. What plausible explanation could I give for roaming around the campsite when I haven't done that before? After being here three days, it's a bit late for exploring.

The dark outline of the army vehicle looms before me. I have the right spot. Butterflies flutter in my stomach but I don't have time for them. I've come this far. I have to see it through. Soft music plays. I stand in the shadows and wait to see if anyone else is at the site. Except for the music, it's silent. I scrunch my eyes as I debate with myself. I've come this far, I can't chicken out. Part of me wants to run far away. But I also want to go forward. I don't know which is worse. But I made a promise to myself and I'm not letting myself down.

I take a step forward, biting my lip. It's a tentative move but in the right direction.

A shadow moves inside the vehicle. Moves but doesn't get out. What am I to do? I try to calm my fractured nerves by rationalising. The worst I can think of is he'll tell me to piss off. I can handle that. I'll go and it'll be no worse than not coming here. I walk to the side of the vehicle. The door's open but the interior light is off. Jason's lounging on the seat, feet on the dash, eyes closed. Is he asleep?

With those butterflies turning into huge-winged beasts flapping frantically in my stomach, I move forwards until I'm touching the edge of the doorway, a hand span away from him. I don't know what to do. Should I say something? Clear my throat? Sniff? Jump on him? He doesn't help my decision because he doesn't move. He must know I'm here.

“Hey,” I say softly. Such a stimulating conversationalist I'm turning out to be.

He opens his eyes, lifts a hand and curls his fingers around mine as they grasp the doorway. “What're you doing here?”

I'm not prepared for that question. I purse my lips while I think of an answer. There's no sane answer to give. So I give an honest one. “I dunno but I didn't want to stay away.”

He stares at me for the longest time. I can't move. Blood pounds in my ears.

“Why?” His question's a growl as he sits upwards.

His hand pulls mine towards him but a squeal close by stops us moving.
Not again.
I could scream. I move away from him to the front of the vehicle. It seems like the whole group has decided to visit. From the darkness they all traipse in.

“Mac, I didn't know you could move so fast.” Harry's dry humour has everyone laughing. I hope they don't realise I was here ahead of them.

“Jason, we want some music. Party music. I know you've got some.” Fiona throws open the passenger side door, flicks on the interior light and scrolls through radio stations until she finds one suitable. It's like she's marking her territory and my hackles rise. I don't move to attack her but I don't slink away either.

I try to read Jason's expression but I can't be sure I understand it. A frown crosses his forehead and his eyes are pinched. His lips thin to a tight line. Am I reading him right? Is he peeved everyone's here or with Fiona's proprietary actions? I can't tell.

Cans of drinks are opened and people sprawl around the vehicle for the music party. Somehow I stay near enough to Jason to end up in conversation. He and the boys talk sport. I know sport. We have interesting disagreements. Jason, Harry and I are Aussie rules fans but we all barrack for different teams. Damien and Sam are rugby league boys and also go for different teams. Jason and I both know a bit about rugby league, so the discussion is long and heated. Harry drifts off. Then Damien and Sam start talking together, which leaves Jason and I to go back to Aussie rules.

“How do you know so much about footy?”

I shrug and give an exaggerated grin. “I'm from Melbourne. It's compulsory.”

“But it's like you study it.”

“I do. I can analyse a game as well as anyone. I know most of the rules, history, positions, plays.” I stop and laugh at myself. “I'm defensive, sorry. I'm used to people criticising what I know.”

“You need to work with what's happening, Mac, and not go jumping to conclusions or making assumptions.” Something about the intensity of his words makes me think he's talking about more than just football. I glance across the ground to where Fiona's dancing wildly to a song.

“That's exactly what I'm talking about.” Jason's whisper growls displeasure.

I look at him quickly before my gaze drops downwards. “Sorry.”