1. the only mistake
I stretch out across the table, legs dangling over the edge. A shrunken head hangs from the ceiling. It stares at me with red, wooden eyes. It has dog's mouth; a pink lacquered tongue, big yellow teeth. Dillon shaves my leg.
The first time I kissed Dillon, his place was cold, damp, like a cave. We watched a show about sea creatures. It filled the room with soft, blue light. We laid there, stuffy-nosed, mouth-breathing. Breathing on each other's faces. And then I asked. And then I pushed him off the mattress. I kissed him on the cold, hard floor.
He fills little plastic cups with ink. Everywhere is buzzing, like a swarm of steel bees rushing around the room. He stands over me, looks at my thigh. Dillon doesn’t ask. He just does it.
2. i remember nothing
The first time I kissed Dillon, his place was cold, damp, like a cave. We watched a show about sea creatures. It filled the room with soft, blue light. We laid there, stuffy-nosed, mouth-breathing. Breathing on each other's faces. And then I asked. And then I pushed him off the mattress. I kissed him on the cold, hard floor.
He fills little plastic cups with ink. Everywhere is buzzing, like a swarm of steel bees rushing around the room. He stands over me, looks at my thigh. Dillon doesn’t ask. He just does it.
2. i remember nothing
I reach back, grip the edge of the table, clench my teeth. There's a little skull on the shelf next to me. I think it's a fox.
He took me to the Academy of Sciences. We ran around the aquarium, made faces at each other through the jellyfish tank. Later, on the train, I put my head on his shoulder. He smelled like peppermint soap. I fell asleep. That's how I remember it.
A fox. Or a weasel. Or something.
(We probably just sat there, not saying anything. The train shrieked through the tunnel. I wanted to get closer, to smell the soap on his neck.)
3. love will tear us apart
I get nauseous, look out the window.
It was morning. Cool air drifted in through the open window. I traced the skeletons etched on his pelvis. I knelt on the floor, helped him stretch out a canvas. He ran his fingertips across my back. I got goosebumps.
He took me to the Academy of Sciences. We ran around the aquarium, made faces at each other through the jellyfish tank. Later, on the train, I put my head on his shoulder. He smelled like peppermint soap. I fell asleep. That's how I remember it.
A fox. Or a weasel. Or something.
(We probably just sat there, not saying anything. The train shrieked through the tunnel. I wanted to get closer, to smell the soap on his neck.)
3. love will tear us apart
I get nauseous, look out the window.
It was morning. Cool air drifted in through the open window. I traced the skeletons etched on his pelvis. I knelt on the floor, helped him stretch out a canvas. He ran his fingertips across my back. I got goosebumps.
I talk about graduating. About a story I'm writing. About leaving the country for a long, long time. I just keep talking. I say I'm kind of seeing someone, now. Try to sound convincing.
There was a knock at the door. Then it was over. We never really talked about it.
4. the sound of music
I tell him it hurts. He says, "Yeah".
Tink Tink. That's the sound a bottle would make on the steel in his nose. Tink Tink. Then a cold hand searching for my leg under the blanket.
He sets the needle down, cleans my leg with cold water and a paper towel. He puts the jelly on his fingers, rubs it in. Slowly, deliberately, gently.
5. isolation
Tink Tink.
One week later, I throw it away.
