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and indiscriminate sex?” Dr. Cone asked.

“No!” I was surprised he would imagine I had. “I’ve never had sex.”

“Have you been fooling around with someone?” Mrs. Cone stared at Jimmy as she asked this, as if she expected me to be fooling around with him.

“No! No. I’ve never even kissed a boy.”

Dr. Cone said, “Are you looking at pornographic magazines?”

“No, of course not. I’m taking care of Izzy all day.”

“Compulsively masturbating?” Dr. Cone asked, and my face burned hard and deep.

“No, I’ve never done that. But I think about sex all the time. Or at the wrong time. Like, I see penises when I’m making dinner. Or, if I’mgrocery shopping, I can’t get the word sex out of my brain or maybe I’ll think sex addict sex addict sex addict just because I’m thinking about sex. Or I’ll see something that is totally not related to sex and it will remind me of sex.”I felt a rush of lightness after having poured all this out. It was like my head was filled with helium.

“Like a zucchini?” Sheba asked.

I paused. “Well, I never thought of that. But I will now. That’s what I mean. From today on, I’ll think of sex, or a penis,I guess, every time I look at a zucchini.” I searched their faces in the shadowy moonlight to see if they were repulsed byme. Or disappointed in me. But everyone was smiling.

“Oh, sweetie.” Sheba put her arms around me and pulled me against her. She kissed my head like I was Izzy. “You’re fine. Thoseare just normal human girl thoughts.”

“Are they?” I couldn’t imagine my mother ever thinking of penises while shopping for zucchinis. And the twins probably wouldn’t even think of penises if they were standing in a boys’ locker room with abundant visible penises. Would girls who wanted to be president ever think about sex?

“Those thoughts are fully within the range of normal,” Dr. Cone said. “And if you were masturbating or looking at pornography,that would still be normal, as long as it wasn’t to the exclusion of your daily needs and responsibilities.”

“Dr. Cone, are you sure about this?” At the beginning of the summer I would have thought this conversation would be impossible.I’d thought I was going to die an old woman with my secret sex addiction. But now, what surprised me more than the conversationitself, was the enormous unburdening I felt. It was like a great wind was suddenly blowing through my hollowed-out body.

“I am certain. You aren’t even verging on an addiction.”

“Mary Jane! Baby!” Jimmy leaned forward toward me. “I’m the one who’s fucking half addicted to sex. You saw what happened!It’s not you, baby.”

“You’re SO fine!” Sheba hugged me. Then she pulled away from me and said, “What did she see? What are you talking about?”

Dr. Cone said, “Jimmy, maybe you should save Mary Jane the discomfort of having to say what happened.”

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?” Sheba stared hard at Jimmy.

Mrs. Cone leaned forward. “What? Wait? What happened? Richard, do you know what happened?”

“Let’s let Jimmy talk. And please, everyone, try to reserve judgment and keep your emotions in check until he’s had his say.”Dr. Cone looked at Sheba as he said this.

“I was walking down the beach today,” Jimmy said. “And I ran into that Beanie woman—”

“No!” Sheba said. “That blond-bob housewife can’t stay the fuck away from us!”

“I didn’t know how to say no.” Jimmy sounded pained by this. Like saying no caused him physical distress. “I didn’t know howto stop it. I really didn’t want to do it, but I also didn’t want to hurt her feelings, and my dick wanted it, for sure, and then Mary Jane andIzzy saw us—”

“YOU MADE LOVE TO BEANIE JONES!” Mrs. Cone stood. She had the wine bottle in her hand and for a second I thought she was goingto hit Jimmy with it. I was surprised she wasn’t upset about Izzy having seen Jimmy on top of Beanie Jones.

Sheba said, “What the fuck, Jimmy?!”

“I’m sorry.” Jimmy shook his head, like even he was sick of himself.

“How could you do that to us?! Beanie Jones??” Mrs. Cone shouted.

Everyone was silent. Dr. Cone stared at Mrs. Cone. Sheba stared at Mrs. Cone too. Jimmy looked nervous, or confused; his eyesroamed from his wife to Mrs. Cone, back and forth.

Mrs. Cone looked like she was trying not to cry. “It’s just, I mean, Beanie Jones?! COME ON! Beanie Jones?!” And then, ina quick semi-collapse, she sat back down. The bottle remained in her hand.

Sheba turned away from Mrs. Cone like she’d had enough of her. “Seriously, Jimmy. Beanie fucking Jones? What the fuck? Everyfucking housewife in the neighborhood is going to be lined up at the door to fuck you now.”

In my head I saw all the mothers from Roland Park holding cakes and cookies, lined up at the Cones’ front door, waiting tomake love to Jimmy. Would Mrs. Cone get in line too? Seemed like she’d want to be first.

I thought about how my body felt electric when Jimmy locked his eyes onto mine. His furry chest was warm against my cheek when he hugged me. I’d seen his penis and despite my best attempts, I couldn’t get that image out of my head. But when I stopped and asked myself if I wanted to kiss Jimmy, the answer was no. He was handsome, and he had sexiness pulsating out of him like sound waves. But he was . . . well. He was old.

Jimmy was stuttering, blubbering, “. . . I couldn’t find my way out of it—the words wouldn’t come to me. And once it started,I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Dr. Cone said, “Jimmy, it’s your body. You’re in charge of it. You can choose not to make love to every beautiful woman who offers herself to you.”

“You think Beanie Jones is beautiful?!” Mrs. Cone said. She seemed more upset than Sheba. I had expected Sheba to run intothe house and start throwing dishes, Jimmy-style. Her husband had had sex with another woman! But

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