Don't Kiss Me: Stories, page 10
I know you, baby girl. Darren with that big hand around that shovel, the caramel-brown of his forearms, all muscle and vein. All throbbing tender life. And my manager saying, After this customer go on and take your break. Yeah, Darren said. Take your break. Come with me. I never saw him before in my life. Maybe he’d never seen me but he sure acted like he had. Me at the cashier station and my momma working in the jewelry section, we’d go home and eat leftovers and watch the Late Show. Or. Come with me. I did, and I found out why the shovel, and I been his baby girl ever since. Easy to let someone think they know you, long as you become who they think you are.
I got you, the lady says. I got you good. She reaches down between her legs, brings out a cell phone. You better run, she says.
I know she’s right. I should run. But I don’t. I walk slowly out. The hallway smell again, my smeared reflection in the elevator doors. The doors open, a woman in pink curlers gets off, I get on. I can’t decide what button to push. I think how I should have kicked the phone out the lady’s hands. I think how Darren only used that shovel the one time. I think how I left my smock in the break room, how that game show glittered from the TV, how it ain’t so easy to see the glitter sometimes. I think how my momma probably took that smock home to wash it. I think how I lit the match, how at first it was just a tiny flame, a dot of glitter. I think how I’ll wake Darren up, get him his pants, tell him we got to go. Put my hair in braids while he dresses. Wait for him to ask me who I am.
DON’T KISS ME
I WANT TO TELL THE WOMAN ACROSS FROM ME THAT IF YOU SPRITZ AIR FRESHENER INTO YOUR PURSE IT WILL NO LONGER SMELL SO PURSE-LIKE
BUT SEE THEN I WOULD HAVE TO EXPLAIN HOW I AM AFRAID OF THE SMELL OF NEW ITEMS, AND JUST THIS MORNING I CONFESSED HOW I AM AFRAID IT IS SALIVA COMING OUT OF THE SHOWER SPIGOT SO I DON’T WANT TO PUSH IT TOO FAR WITH HER
SHE IS BLOND
LIKE IF YOU BUY YOUR CHILD A NEW PAIR OF MARY JANES THE LEATHER STRAP SMELLS LIKE A LEATHER STRAP AND I CANNOT ABIDE IT
THIS WOMAN ACROSS FROM ME HAS A VOICE LIKE WHAT I IMAGINE BUTTERSCOTCH WOULD SOUND LIKE WERE IT NOT THE HARDENED DIARRHEAL TURD I AM CONVINCED IT TO BE
HER FACE IS LIKE WHAT A BABY’S FACE WOULD LOOK LIKE SHOULD IT SUDDENLY BECOME ATTACHED TO AN ADULT HEAD
MY HUSBAND DRANK FOUR TEQUILA SUNRISES AT THE HOLIDAY PARTY AND INFORMED ME SHE WAS ATTRACTIVE
LATER HE VOMITED DOWN HIS TIE
I THREW THAT TIE AWAY BECAUSE THAT WAS THE MONTH MY WASHER AND DRYER BECAME INHABITED BY GHOSTS OF BLACK MEN ASKING TO FONDLE MY GOURDS
IT IS NOT POSSIBLE TO BABY-FY YOUR FACE, I HAVE LOOKED IT UP
SOMETIMES I THINK ABOUT TAPING A PHOTO OF THIS WOMAN OVER MY FACE DURING ALONE TIME WITH MY HUSBAND, YOU HAVE TO BE CREATIVE IN A MARRIAGE SOMETIMES
BUT THE ONLY PHOTO I HAVE OF HER IS FROM HER CHRISTMAS CARD, SHE IS HOLDING HER CHILD AND WEARING ANTLERS AND I AM AFRAID THAT IS TOO MUCH STIMULANT FOR MY HUSBAND
THIS WOMAN EATS LIVE CUCUMBER, I HAVE SEEN IT WITH MY OWN EYES
ON OCCASION I HAVE CONVINCED THIS WOMAN TO VENTURE OUT AND EAT LUNCH WITH ME
I LIKE THE OLIVE GARDEN BUT THIS WOMAN PREFERS OUTBACK
IF WE DRIVE SEPARATE SOMETIMES I DROP BY THE OLIVE GARDEN ANYWAY
IT DISGUSTS ME TO SEE A GROWN WOMAN EAT A SALAD BUT I AM DEDICATED, I FORGIVE THIS WOMAN EACH TIME THOUGH I KNOW THE FLECKS OF LETTUCE ARE SLOWLY DISINTEGRATING HER ESOPHAGUS
YOU CAN’T SAVE EVERYONE
I HAVE A BLOND WIG, IT CAME PACKAGED WITH THE MERMAID COSTUME I BOUGHT FOR MY CHILD AT THE CVS THE YEAR SHE WAS IN HIDING, THE WIG DOES NOT FIT MY HEAD AND THAT IS WHAT THE GLUE IS FOR
I WEAR THAT WIG SOMETIMES WHEN I’M ALONE AND I MAKE MYSELF A SALAD OF PRETZELS DRIZZLED WITH TABASCO
I FEEL CLOSEST TO THE BLOND WOMAN IN THESE MOMENTS
SOMETIMES I CALL THE WOMAN ON THE PHONE EVEN THOUGH SHE IS RIGHT ACROSS FROM ME
I SAY, I SEE YOU
IF YOU WAIT FOR THIS WOMAN TO VISIT THE LADIES’ YOU CAN SIT IN HER CHAIR, IT DOES NOT KNOW WHO IS SITTING IN IT DESPITE WHAT YOU MAY BELIEVE
I ONCE ATE THIS WOMAN’S PEN CAP FROM THE WARM WOMB OF COMFORT I KNOW HER CHAIR TO BE
I WAS CHEWING IT AS I HAD SEEN HER DO BUT THEN I LOST CONTROL
I WAS NOT POPULAR IN HIGH SCHOOL
I WATCHED PROM FROM THE SAFETY OF THE FRONT SEAT OF MY FATHER’S CAR, I USED BINOCULARS
AFTER, I WENT TO THE DENNY’S AND WATCHED THEM ALL FROM A BOOTH AT THE BACK
I USED BINOCULARS
I MET MY HUSBAND ON THE INTERNET, HE WAS THE ONLY OTHER PERSON AFRAID OF WIND ASIDE FROM ME THAT I COULD FIND
DURING OUR FIRST LUNCH THIS WOMAN HELD ME WHILE I CRIED, WIND HAD TOUCHED MY FACE ON THE WALK TO THE CAR AND I KNEW THAT MEANT A CARTOON DEMON HAD MOLESTED ME
FOR CHRISTMAS THIS WOMAN GAVE ME A SATCHEL OF POTPOURRI, THERE WAS NO CARD AND I WAS EMBARRASSED FOR HER
REGARDLESS I ATE IT ALL ON THE DRIVE HOME
I GAVE HER A COUPON FOR A FRIENDSHIP SNUGGLE, IT WAS EASY, I PRINTED IT OFF THE INTERNET
I ALSO E-MAILED IT TO HER
SHE HAS NOT CASHED IT IN BUT EVERY DAY IS A NEW DAY
I GUESS I LOVE THIS WOMAN
IT GNAWS AT ME
BUT SEE IT’S GOT TO WHERE THESE DAYS I CAN’T TELL WHAT’S WORTH CONFESSING ANYMORE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
An assault of kisses are owed to featherproof books, and Zach Dodson in particular. To Jac Jemc, for her early enthusiasm for the collection. To Mary Hamilton, who brought out the short-story writer in me. Amelia Gray, for terrifying and inspiring. Emily Bell, who is a badass. Jim Rutman, for helping champion my work. Matt Trupia and Sarah Grainer, writers and cherished friends who made me weirder. And finally, to my husband, without whom I shudder to think.
Farrar, Straus and Giroux
18 West 18th Street, New York 10011
Copyright © 2013 by Lindsay Hunter
All rights reserved
First edition, 2013
Some of the stories in Don’t Kiss Me originally appeared in the following publications: “After” in Dark Sky Magazine, “Birthday Luncheon” in Red Lightbulbs, “Brenda’s Kid” in Wigleaf, “CANDLES” in PANK Magazine, “Clocks” in Burrow Press Review, “Dallas” in trnsfr, “Dishes” in Knee-Jerk, “DON’T KISS ME” in Orange Alert’s Hair Lit: Volume One anthology, “Gerald’s Wife” in Sundog Lit, “A Girl” in Fifty-Two Stories’ Forty Stories anthology, “Heart” in Burrow Press Review’s “15 Views of Orlando” series, “Like” in Paper Darts, “Me and Gin” in Barrelhouse, “My Boyfriend Del” in Annalemma Magazine, “Nixon in Retirement” in Melville House’s “Forty-Four Stories about Our Forty-Four Presidents” series, “Our Man” in MAKE, “Plans” in The Handshake, “RV People” in BULL {Men’s Fiction}, “Splits” in Midwestern Gothic, “Summer Massacre” in Denver Quarterly, “Three Things You Should Know About Peggy Paula” in Fifty-Two Stories, and “You and Your Cats” in Unstuck.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hunter, Lindsay, 1980–
[Short stories. Selections]
Don’t kiss me / Lindsay Hunter. — First edition.
p. cm
ISBN 978-0-374-53385-4
I. Title. II. Title: Do not kiss me.
PS3608.U5943 D66 2013
813’.6—dc23
2012049024
www.fsgbooks.com
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eISBN 978-0-3747-1011-8
Hunter, Lindsay, Don't Kiss Me: Stories
