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Show After dinner we sit on the curb where we have sat dozens of times, the sun sinking behind us, mynah birds hopping on the lawn, an occasional car driving past. It is the same curb I sat on years before to watch our babysitter, Jerrilyn, kiss her boyfriend goodbye against his sky-blue car. Smoochie smoochie Stacy and I had yelled and then run but not before one last look at how Brian's hands stroked the skin above her jeans as he kissed her, how familiar they were with her sides. Jeff rubs the thin skin above my ankle. He has not shaved in days and sparse hair grows above his lip. I move away. What's this? he asks, reaching for my necklace and fingering the gold-dipped maile leaf in his fingers. My necklace. Where did you get it? Karen and I got them at the Swap Meet last weekend. It's nice. Do you wear it all the time? Yes. When you eat? Yes, I say laughing at the idea. When you sleep? he continues. Yes. In the shower? Yes, now knowing where we are going. Does water run down it when you wash? /And his fingers move to the button on my shirt, then behind, tracing the bones in my chest, lingering at the lace on the bra I paid 163 |
