AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |
Back to Blog
Horse blanket girl blur1/25/2024 ![]() Then, a single car breaks away moving toward me like a gleaming thread fraying from a rope. The traffic travels along the highway like a droning procession of insects, sunlight glinting off the vehicles’ chassis. I should just get my phone and call her and get it over with. My phone is in my purse, my purse is in the car. Or a horde of zombies.Įvery time a large truck rumbles by, the bench shivers beneath my thighs. I could be sitting here as a wall of fire creeps toward me. The highway traffic sounds both calamitous and purposeful, as though everyone is escaping an apocalyptic event. Outside the welcome center, I feel along the wall and sit on a bench. A man, preferably, though I will have to leave the bathroom for that to happen. When I am feeling calmer, I will have someone call her for me. I dig into my pocket and locate a loose pill small as punctuation. Someone else will be along presently, I think. “I think it will only get worse from here, to be honest,” I say. She has the mushroomy smell of a bra removed after a long day. I can hear the rustle of her leaning over, the dry hiss of a delicate chain striking the synthetic fabric of her blouse. Who is that? Who is calling me? Who are you fucking? Where are you? I told you not to be. The friendly woman handing me the phone, and my girlfriend’s voice on the other end, acidic with suspicion. I’ve gone to every sink.” The heat on my face is tears, but I don’t know it until she says, “Don’t cry! Can I call someone for you?” ![]() She does not pause anywhere, and before she talks I know what she’s going to say. She drifts like a peach phantom up and down the row, humming a song to herself. She flushes, washes her hands at the sink farthest from me. She leaves me for a stall and pees for a long time, hard and decisive, like a horse, or like she’s been holding it for a long distance. Someone comes in, pausing long enough to tell me that she is curious about me but doesn’t want to be rude. I sit against the wall and close my eyes. “I will let him tell you about this comedy of errors.” “Here is Officer Harris,” I could tell her. She could not accuse the police of lying to her she certainly wouldn’t yell at them. Should I call the police? Is this a police matter? At least, then, the officer would explain the situation to her. I could call her, and tell her what happened-as per her rule about keeping her informed-but the idea makes my stomach blossom with anxiety. She warned me not to be late, and not only am I going to be late, I am trapped along an interstate with no way to continue my journey. I feel the crevices, trying not to think about any of it too hard. It’s an overcast day, so the building is hard to distinguish from the sky. “My guy keeps dying, Mom!” one of them shrieks as the van door slams shut. “Good luck,” she says in a clipped voice. I have accused when I should have asked for help. “I think one of your children took my glasses. There is a game-over chirrup from the direction of the kids, a yelp of disappointment. I follow the sound of children’s voices, the digital jangle of their video game. A glass case that is covering a map of the state. Not even the slapstick crunch of glass and wire beneath an unlucky palm. I continue to grope around for the glasses that are no longer there. Pulled and bluish, like a fish on the verge of floating. I wipe the loose water from my skin and lean in toward my reflection, my nose nearly touching the mirror. My fingers scrabble over porcelain and close over nothing. Face dripping over the sink, I reach for my glasses. I press my hand to my forehead, my cheeks, my jaw. I hear the rapid escalation and de-escalation of the hand dryers, and when the family evacuates the bathroom, it aches with the relief of emptiness. ![]() The water smells vaguely sulfurous, like the Fountain of Youth. They scream, she screams, all of it rising above the rush of the tap. A middle-aged woman with a deflated handbag scolds them. Children with juice-stained mouths are at the sinks on either side of me. I realize I am flinching after my body is already tight with worry she will be enraged if I am late again. I see them before I place my glasses on the sink. It is not my first mistake of the day, but it is the biggest. People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction!Įn route to visit my girlfriend in Indiana, I pull over at a rest stop in Illinois to wash my face. ![]()
0 Comments
Read More
Leave a Reply. |