Black Silk (34 page)

“Okay? You okay?” he asks after a few moments, not expecting an answer.

“No.”

He’s alarmed. He’s hurt her. “What’s wrong?”

“Pull out. Take it out. Now.”

It’s awkward and takes all the strength he has to scootch back on the couch and sit up with Reefah sitting on his lap. With
both hands he pulls his cock out of her and is surprised to feel plastic, a condom. “Hey, when’d that happen?”

“What?”

“The condom.”

“What?”

“When’d you put the rubber on?”

“Who cares? It was on, wasn’t it? What do you think I am?”

He’s scared by her sarcasm but feels relieved about something he hadn’t even thought about: safe sex. “You’re amazing. Really.”

“None of that. Okay?” she says, silencing him.

Behind him, he hears a cough and clearing of the throat. Then, “Mr. Williams. I’m ready to go now.”

It’s Fami.

“Shit,” he says under his breath, but doesn’t look back to see Fami standing on the stairs, trying not to look at him and
that girl. He’s back on earth. “Okay.” He wants to make an excuse, to say, I thought you were gone, really; but, with a girl
straddling him on the couch, he doesn’t want to start a conversation, and he hears Fami go back upstairs.

“I better go,” Reefah says, swinging herself off of him and back on the couch. “An old head like you has a lot of things to
do.” Does an orgasm bring out all the sarcasm in this girl? She pulls her panties on and stands up; the elastic pop feels
like a gunshot in his left side. She tugs and twists everything back into place, smoothing down her skirt and blouse with
measured strokes, carefully, the same way she must have rolled the condom on him.

“So why don’t I give you a call later.” Roy carefully pulls the condom off so as not to spill its contents, stands, and buttons
his pants. He doesn’t know what to do with the used condom and Reefah doesn’t answer. “Let me give you my number… I’m just
going to be hanging out here. If you want. You can stay too. We can polish off the rest of those donuts.”

“Thanks. But I’ve got to get home, and I’m going to a show tonight.”

“Oh, really.” He puts the soppy condom in his pants pocket. “Maybe I can get a ticket.”

“With my parents. My mom and dad. You know my dad, don’t you? Luna? Luis Rodriguez?”

“Well, ummmm.”

“He’s cool, as far as dads are concerned. They’re cool. They’re like into the here and now, being in every moment and shit.
So, thanks, Roy. It was great. Really hot. I’ll call you tomorrow or something and we can get together for some cream-filled
donuts.” She walks over to the front door, puts on her coat, and checks herself out in the mirror, never once glancing back
at Roy standing behind her dumbfounded.

“’Bye.”

Standing, hands in pockets, he feels something wet, cold and wet. A spilled drink. A melted Popsicle. Wet, thick, and gooey.
Jelly that’s oozed out of a donut. And then he remembers where he put the condom.

Even with the sarcasm he might have chased after her if she hadn’t thrown in his face the fact that she knew she was fucking
her father’s friend all along. How old was she anyway? He doesn’t want to calculate. What was she really doing? Retaliating?
Rebelling? Going through a phase? What the hell was he thinking, bringing her back her to his house while his father waited,
motionless, for nothing in particular? All his fears and anxieties had disappeared for just a little while. Or had his anxieties
completely taken over? He’d fallen for her as soon as he saw her in the donut shop. Reefah. The girl’s no joke, putting her
panties on and leaving without even a kiss or a handshake, while upstairs, Roy imagines, sweet old Fami waiting in his father’s
room, trying not to listen to what’s going on downstairs.

_________________

by Thomas Glave

But first beginning with their secret. That of the blue globes.

Which are always blue, as

they always were. In the beginning. When he was thirteen years old. When I was twelve

years old. When we were

sixteen

years old

:

But yes. Beginning with their secret. That of the blue globes, their secret, and his secret, which was also mine. The secret
of “Smell,” he said, smiling down. “I want you to—” “Smell,” I said. Smiling up. My jaw feeling the (but yes). My face moving
toward what he wanted me to smell. Toward what was his, and his alone, until I made it mine. Until I breathed it in. About
which I said I would never tell. “I’ll never tell,” I said. Said to him. To his face. His laughing, smiling face. His face
that smiled as (in darkness, in light) the blue globes descended, came closer and closer and “Smell it,” he said. “Just like
that. Now. That way,” he said. And laughed. Both of us laughing, laughing now, as no one will ever know.

I breathed in. Am breathing in. But he has not yet danced. Danced over my “Face,” he will say. “So that you can look up, even
in the darkness, and see them. The globes. As I dance. Dance over your face. The globes, that will be blue, as you look up
and call my name. My name,” he will say, reaching down to pull that part of me closer to his (yes).

I am calling

his name. I am looking up and calling

his name. I am calling his name as he looks down at me and then

“Oh, Jesus!”
I say. Yes.
As he pulls that part of me closer to his (yes) and

I

am O I am and I am and O.

He wants me to breathe. To inhale. He always wanted me to breathe, to inhale. To take in all of it and carry it “to your dreams,”
he would always say. “I want you to smell me in your dreams.” But yes.

If they had ever known—any of them, the ones who were never there when we, the ones who never heard when we in that time or
this one—if any of them had ever known, “They would have laughed,” I said. “They would have said—” “Uhhuh,” he said. “They
would have thought—” “Of course,” I said. “They would have—” “Exactly,” you said. “And we wouldn’t be—” “No,” I said.

And so they who were we
will never tell. I will never. You will not. And no.

Years later, they will look back. Both of them. They will see themselves holding
each other. See themselves smelling
each
other (yes, and laughing). See themselves
doing those things that require a little assistance
with each other. Moving groceries,
starting a car, or “Do that to me,” he said. You said.

“Like that.” Dusting off furniture in the secret place they kept, the place no one ever knew
about except themselves. Where
they could go sometimes and “Underneath?” I said.

“Between the—” “No,” he said (you said), “right there, next to my—yes, yes, that’s it.

That’s it,” you said. Between the groceries, moving the hand to pull the clutch.

Looking back. But so much ahead.

All right, then. And so the globes. That began when I was in (summer) camp. When we were in camp. When there was nobody around.
Nobody because “They’re all swimming,” he whispered. “In the pool down by the—”

“Getting wet,” I said, pulling at the—

“Yes,” he whispered (you whispered). And laughed.

In camp. Where I was. Right there. Just there. Lying on my “Back,” he said, quietly. “On your back. Stay there.” “Why?” I
asked. “Because,” he said (you said), smiling. But I didn’t have to ask. Because that would be the first O yes the first yes
time that he would ask me to do that, to do just that, to put my face there in that way, near the blue globes.