Read Online Buddha Baby by Kim Wong Keltner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kim Wong Keltner
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entered the cool green of a hidden path and held hands as they walked beneath a canopy of rustling leaves in dappled shade.
They strolled across bridges and through tunnels, behind bushes and around flowering, fragrant trees. As the air grew cooler, they stopped from time to time so Michael could rub warmth into her shoulders. Near the log cabin he let her trip him and they fell down on the grass to enjoy the weight of each other as they inhaled the scent of new-growth grass dotted with pipsqueak daisies.
Evenings like these, between five and eight, with their mixture of cool and warm air, kinetic energy, and laziness, were the bread and butter of their relationship. Their talks were sometimes serious or joking, and other times they didn't speak at all, just listened to the gentle, scooping slaps of their shoes.
She couldn't quite explain the feeling of Michael at her side, but she knew it was right. He never walked too far ahead or lagged behind, and they had a synchronicity while walking. When she reached out her hand, his was always there as if their fingertips had language without talking.
Lindsey held a handful of flat stones she had gathered along the paths. She carried them
in
case they ended up at Stow Lake, where Michael could skip them across water. Walking for a while, they instead ended up sitting on a bench, and she balanced the cool rocks on the inner part of Michael's forearm. His other hand in her hair, he whispered insipid nicknames in her ear that, if heard aloud, would undoubtedly gag the entire population of the city's hipper-than-thou pseudo-intellectuals. The sky was just getting dark now, and somewhere in the distance they heard the low, sonorous booms of detonating fireworks. Although they could see only a blank sky above them, it was exciting to know that somewhere not too far away, pyrotechnics were lighting up the evening with fizzy, exploding chrysanthemums.
Lindsey nestled her face into Michael's neck. After a moment he whispered in her ear, "Hey, did you hear the one about the Chinese newlyweds? On their honeymoon the husband says he wants to try sixty-nine and the wife says, 'What? You want broccoli with beef?'"
Lindsey smiled and swept the rocks off his arm with her hand, watching as they tumbled into the grass.
"Maybe we'll be newlyweds someday," he added.
Their eyes met for a second. Then she gave him a little shove and stood up, brushing herself off.
Back at home, Lindsey took a shower while Michael organized the recycling and dragged it down to the curb. After shutting off the water, she pulled open the curtain to discover that there wasn't a towel on the rack, so she stepped out into the hall and promptly screamed, startled to see Michael, who'd just thrown open the front door.
"Well, hi," he said, kicking off his shoes. Modestly trying to cover herself with her hands, she fumbled in the linen closet. Michael moved toward her and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"Your clothes are getting all wet," she said, trying to wriggle free, but he held her tight.
"I don't care," he said, smooching her.
"Well, you should care," she said between kisses. "Dry cleaning is expensive, and…"
"Forget dry cleaning. In fact, I'm never washing my clothes again, and they're gonna get filthy and full of germs and I'm gonna hide all your Purell, and you're gonna love me anyway."
Lindsey turned around and undid several buttons of his shirt, unlatched his belt and pulled it through the loops of his pants.
She put her arms around his neck and he hoisted her up and carried her to the bedroom. Her wet skin was slippery, and as soon as they made it to the bed he clumsily dropped her on the mattress with a thud.
"Ow!"
He smiled, pulling his shirt over his head and falling on her. More kissing and fooling around eventually led to the hamster dance. They laughed as several Hello Kitty plush toys catapulted off the bed and onto the floor. In time, the gravity of
la petite mort
ceased all giggles.
They strolled across bridges and through tunnels, behind bushes and around flowering, fragrant trees. As the air grew cooler, they stopped from time to time so Michael could rub warmth into her shoulders. Near the log cabin he let her trip him and they fell down on the grass to enjoy the weight of each other as they inhaled the scent of new-growth grass dotted with pipsqueak daisies.
Evenings like these, between five and eight, with their mixture of cool and warm air, kinetic energy, and laziness, were the bread and butter of their relationship. Their talks were sometimes serious or joking, and other times they didn't speak at all, just listened to the gentle, scooping slaps of their shoes.
She couldn't quite explain the feeling of Michael at her side, but she knew it was right. He never walked too far ahead or lagged behind, and they had a synchronicity while walking. When she reached out her hand, his was always there as if their fingertips had language without talking.
Lindsey held a handful of flat stones she had gathered along the paths. She carried them
in
case they ended up at Stow Lake, where Michael could skip them across water. Walking for a while, they instead ended up sitting on a bench, and she balanced the cool rocks on the inner part of Michael's forearm. His other hand in her hair, he whispered insipid nicknames in her ear that, if heard aloud, would undoubtedly gag the entire population of the city's hipper-than-thou pseudo-intellectuals. The sky was just getting dark now, and somewhere in the distance they heard the low, sonorous booms of detonating fireworks. Although they could see only a blank sky above them, it was exciting to know that somewhere not too far away, pyrotechnics were lighting up the evening with fizzy, exploding chrysanthemums.
Lindsey nestled her face into Michael's neck. After a moment he whispered in her ear, "Hey, did you hear the one about the Chinese newlyweds? On their honeymoon the husband says he wants to try sixty-nine and the wife says, 'What? You want broccoli with beef?'"
Lindsey smiled and swept the rocks off his arm with her hand, watching as they tumbled into the grass.
"Maybe we'll be newlyweds someday," he added.
Their eyes met for a second. Then she gave him a little shove and stood up, brushing herself off.
Back at home, Lindsey took a shower while Michael organized the recycling and dragged it down to the curb. After shutting off the water, she pulled open the curtain to discover that there wasn't a towel on the rack, so she stepped out into the hall and promptly screamed, startled to see Michael, who'd just thrown open the front door.
"Well, hi," he said, kicking off his shoes. Modestly trying to cover herself with her hands, she fumbled in the linen closet. Michael moved toward her and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"Your clothes are getting all wet," she said, trying to wriggle free, but he held her tight.
"I don't care," he said, smooching her.
"Well, you should care," she said between kisses. "Dry cleaning is expensive, and…"
"Forget dry cleaning. In fact, I'm never washing my clothes again, and they're gonna get filthy and full of germs and I'm gonna hide all your Purell, and you're gonna love me anyway."
Lindsey turned around and undid several buttons of his shirt, unlatched his belt and pulled it through the loops of his pants.
She put her arms around his neck and he hoisted her up and carried her to the bedroom. Her wet skin was slippery, and as soon as they made it to the bed he clumsily dropped her on the mattress with a thud.
"Ow!"
He smiled, pulling his shirt over his head and falling on her. More kissing and fooling around eventually led to the hamster dance. They laughed as several Hello Kitty plush toys catapulted off the bed and onto the floor. In time, the gravity of
la petite mort
ceased all giggles.
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