9.29

I can still remember the way her hair curled down into my face. We sat on a blanket in the middle of summer in the dead heat and the shade and tried to escape the terrible consequences of living in the wrong part of the country. I hardly ever sat up. I loved looking up at the way the tree moved through the clouds, as if I could choose which was stationary and which ambient just by looking at it the wrong way. She sat up or laid on her stomach all the time. I asked her once why she didn't watch the sky and she said "it's not worth it. There's so much more to see down here." I said like what and she said "Like you for starters" and leaned in and kissed me and I can still remember the way her hair curled down into my face. She said she watched ants trying to find their way around the jungle of grass and she looked for intersections in their roads: places where ants met to say hello. She said she looked at the weave of the blanket and tried to figure out how it was made so closely knit and if she could do the same thing with her hands. She said she looked at me and she never did explain why. I still don't know if she found me attractive or fascinating or both, so I just figure she must have had her reasons. She was so sensible in other parts of her life, she must not have just looked at me just because.

She was so sensible. I mean really sensible. She finally convinced her parents to buy her a car because it would be cheaper for them in the long run if she drove. The best part is she was right. She saved them more on gas money by not having so many trips back and forth than they had to spend on her insurance. And she helped pay for the car because (sensible) she had saved. I never got a car. So sometimes, when we were feeling too followed and crowded, we would sit in her car with the windows down and the radio off and the seats all the way back and just listen to the sounds of the summer pass us by. Once the security guard at the mall came to try to see what we were doing and he just found us holding hands, so he asked us to not do that anymore. She said "what hold hands? Come on, Thomas. Let's make love on the hood" and the officer looked shocked and she said "would that be better?" and I laughed so hard I almost choked on my own tongue. I mean that phrase is silly how could you choke on something that's been in your mouth for as long as you've been breathing but somehow I almost managed to swallow the whole thing, that's how hard I was laughing. You should have seen the look on that security guard's face. Well anyway he never bothered us again.

Once, she wore a dress. It was the only dress I had ever seen her wear.
If they ever give a medal for clothing design, it should go to the man who thought of dresses.

We never went swimming because she was ashamed of the scar from her appendectomy. Whenever I see a bikini I still think it's a betrayal. Once I saw a woman at the beach who had a scar there and I almost vomited. You know, it's funny how the mind creates these values for itself. I knew a man once who couldn't stand to be around collies just because it made him sad. Well that's what stomachs do for me. Public stomachs. Why would a woman be okay with showing everyone what she's timid about showing one person? Why would something so special to two people be okay to share with the world? So I don't like bikinis. They make me so mad I usually just try to not swim. I haven't been to a pool in years. My cousin got married on a beach. I went to the reception but I had to tell her I couldn't make it to the wedding because I would just think about that appendectomy scar. Life's funny, you know?
Once, I saw the scar. She meant for me to, I think. We were gardening for my mom because you know how moms are and we started throwing dirt at each other because you know how we were (I've told you enough about me you'd think you'd start to get it) and we got so dirty mom almost didn't let us into the house. She asked for a shirt and I said hold on which one and she said "any shirt that smells like you" and I laughed because mom had just done the wash and there weren't any more so I took off my shirt and then took off my undershirt and handed her that and she didn't smile but her eyes did, so I turned around and I noticed I could still see her in the mirror on the door and she could see me in the mirror in front of the sink and she looked at me and I looked at her and well. She lifted her shirt right over her head and if I didn't turn red I mean her bra was pink and she was skin but that one strip of white where the knife had cut right through her and down and into her and all I could think was nothing my mind was full of it and it pressed on my ears and my heart and I couldn't feel anything anymore and I tried to wonder if other guys were this lucky or if it was just me and she lifted my undershirt up over her head and pulled it down and it was ribbed and cotton and it fit me just right but it hung a bit on her and if she didn't look amazing the way the cloth sort of fell loose over her waist and pulled taut near her breasts and swooped down in between and it was a good day to be tall and in that bathroom with her. She put her hands on my stomach and ran them up over my shoulders and sort of looked at me with a face that was utterly incomprehensible and said "thanks for the shirt, Thomas" but I couldn't say anything. We just kind of stood there and hugged each other for a while and when mom came in she didn't say anything but she arched an eyebrow.
That night mom came into my room and said she wished dad were there but he wasn't. So she talked to me about sex and how it can hurt more than it helps, but I knew all about sex so I told her that we hadn't and we weren't planning on it because we knew it changed things and everything was fine the way it was. She said that was good but she knew how boys were. I didn't want to know that I knew what that meant. Mom was only ever with dad and that's all I care to know thanks.

Summer was probably the best time for us. We were happy. We let go of school and worry and we tried to find out how close two people can be without actually being the same person. We came within inches, I'd say because once we had an entire conversation of inside jokes. The lady at the movie theater didn't get it because she turned around and told us to shut up. I said that the movie was worth about four fifty and I had overpaid by about five bucks by my estimation so please stop telling me I can't spend my five wasted dollars how I want but boy the lady didn't like that I mean she really tried to stand up to yell at me but about three-quarters of the way out of her seat I guess she thought better of it and went to sit down. Then I heard a whisper in my ear and she said "she's not got the balls to stand up to you but she's called her doctor and she's considering a lifestyle change" and I wanted to laugh but I just ended up choking on popcorn.
What I'm trying to say is that she and I weren't any better than you at being in love. I know for a fact. I've seen people in love who you would have never guessed could have and I mean really stony people without any luminance in their soul. But what I am saying is that we certainly didn't care if we were good or not, and that made what would have been emotional and scary that made what could have been complicated and wrong that made the bad into incredible. And if I ever find that again I'm never letting go.