First Time for Everything by Henry Fry

Author:Henry Fry [Fry, Henry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Doubleday Canada
Published: 2022-05-10T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty

It seems to take Melania less than three seconds to change into a leather miniskirt and a fringed leather biker jacket—still with the silk bra beneath—and rally the troops. Ashraf is plucked from his morning protein shake, Gin from their yoga, and before I know it we’re waltzing down Cambridge Heath Road, four abreast, arms linked. I feel like I’m in Sex and the City—on acid. People’s heads turn and stare, but it could just be because we’re filling up the entire pavement. Or it could be because they’re thinking, Queers, as vividly as it says across the bonnet of Jacob’s car. My forehead sparks, but I try to breathe it out. This is who I want to be. This is who I want to be….

“Too big?” Gin says, holding up a dangerously large translucent purple dildo. At first I don’t realize what it is, because we are, as far as I’m aware, in a vintage-clothing shop. Turns out, beyond the black velvet curtain at the back is a sex dungeon. East London never fails to surprise me.

“Um, for whom?” I say over the rack of furry coats and jackets I’m leafing through.

Gin leans forward and bops me on the nose with it. I try my best not to recoil. Why are people always doing this?

“For you, of course.” They grin like a little sex pixie. “We gotta loosen you up somehow.”

I sigh and stare at the ceiling. “Is it really that obvious that I’m this, like, uptight virgin who can’t drive?”

“You’re a virgin?” Ashraf gasps from the harness corner. The owner, an elderly gentleman in a turquoise Chinese dress, doesn’t look up from his battered Proust paperback. Still, I glance around self-consciously. Is there a place in this world I truly belong?

“No, not really,” I say. “I just feel, you know, like—”

“Square and vanilla?” Gin suggests helpfully.

“Try these on!” Melania says, thrusting a stack of extremely patterned clothes into my arms. “And then see how Virgin Mary you feel.”

“Please, don’t bring my mother into this,” I say, to blank faces. “Never mind. I’ll just…” I head into the little changing booth.

What follows next is a montage any teen movie would be proud of.

I try on at least fifteen outfits, which Melania delights in styling and amending. She even forces me to walk out into the shop for every other customer to pass comment on. The owner—whose name we learn is Raven—eventually puts Swann’s Way facedown on the counter and turns up the music—“One Way or Another” by Blondie—and I really feel transported to the films Jacob and I used to binge-watch while drinking Dad’s warm Stella Artois. He even starts cheering as the later outfits are revealed.

I try on all sorts, including but not limited to: leather trousers and a velour shirt, giving Angel from Buffy realness; baggy combats and an oversized heavy-knit orange jumper, à la the TLC era; and some workman’s trousers and a varsity jacket, both in black, which makes me feel incredibly Zain. All I need now is the shaved head and earring.

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