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Authors: Anthea Carson
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Ziggy’s house, but then Krishna wanted out of the car.
“Let me out; I’m going to throw up,” Krishna yelled from the back.
“No,” Lucy hollered. “I have to catch up with Paul. He will go to Ziggy’s house.
“Ugh,” Krishna said. “What is your fucking problem?”
“Let’s just get to Ziggy’s, and then Jane can take you home,” Lucy said.
But when we reached Ziggy’s, Paul’s car wasn’t there. We opened the door and pulled over so Krishna could puke into the grass. Gay had been so quiet I turned around to check on her. She was just staring peacefully out the window, as if she were on a Sunday drive. We drove Krishna to her house, and all the way there Lucy hammered the steering wheel. Finally she just drove to her house, left the car and said, “I’m nauseous. I’m going to just go home. I’m gonna kill that fucker when I see him.”
I let her out and drove back over to Ziggy’s. Gay and I went upstairs. When we arrived, Paul actually was there. He had hidden his car several blocks away. He asked me if I could give him a ride to it; he said he needed to go.
THIRTEEN
When I reached his car, he asked me if I wanted to smoke a bowl with him. He had some great stuff in his glove compartment. We climbed in, and within seconds he leaned over, grabbed me, and I felt the heat of his lips on mine. I saw the windows fog up. It was so cold we could both see our breath.
“I drove down a one-way street,” he said, practically panting, rushing to push the words out, “and I knew it. I knew I drove the wrong way, but that’s not what I was thinking. Do you know what I was thinking?”
“No,” I said between kisses.
“I was thinking, ‘my God, she looks so beautiful in that hat.’”
“Wow,” I said between kisses, “really?”
“And then when you threw that bottle on the pavement, I should have been thinking about how I might get a flat tire on the cut glass, but I wasn’t. Do you know what I was thinking?”
“What?” I asked between kisses.
“I was thinking, ‘wow, she looks so beautiful when she gets angry in that hat.’ And that coat looks great on you, too. Where’d you get that coat?”
“It’s imported seal,” I said. “It really belongs to Glinda. See here, I got five tiny driplets of red wine on it.” I was only thinking that last part. I didn’t say it out loud. Or did I?
It was midnight; we’d left Ziggy’s about a half hour ago for me to give him a ride two blocks away where he had parked his car. He kissed just like that pitcher of honey dripping. He was good at it. I knew he was good at it, because I’d kissed one other boy, so I knew. Paul knew how to kiss.
“You and Paul,” Gay whispered, and winked, when I returned to Ziggy’s.
“What took you so long?” Ziggy asked. “It should have only taken you ten minutes. You’ve been gone forty-five.”
“What?” I asked. “Are you keeping tabs on me?”
“You should have been back here a half an hour ago. Did you get lost driving two blocks?”
“What is this,” I asked, taking a toke from the passing pipe, “the Spanish inquisition?”
Someone made a joke about the Spanish inquisition, and then Ziggy continued, “You’ve been inconsiderate.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You got red wine on my sister’s white-seal coat.”
Well, what could I say to that? Number one, I was sitting on the floor and he was on the couch, and I may not have realized this consciously but he seemed above me. Number two, nobody rushed to my defense, they either seemed to be listening passively or talking amongst themselves and barely aware of my time on the witness stand, and number three, it was true. It was white, imported seal, it was his sister’s coat, and I did drip five red-wine droplets on it.
Gay leaned over, pressed against my shoulder, and whispered in my ear, “At least it wasn’t blood. I need a ride home.”
I drove Gay home. She needed a ride, and had been over at
“Let me out; I’m going to throw up,” Krishna yelled from the back.
“No,” Lucy hollered. “I have to catch up with Paul. He will go to Ziggy’s house.
“Ugh,” Krishna said. “What is your fucking problem?”
“Let’s just get to Ziggy’s, and then Jane can take you home,” Lucy said.
But when we reached Ziggy’s, Paul’s car wasn’t there. We opened the door and pulled over so Krishna could puke into the grass. Gay had been so quiet I turned around to check on her. She was just staring peacefully out the window, as if she were on a Sunday drive. We drove Krishna to her house, and all the way there Lucy hammered the steering wheel. Finally she just drove to her house, left the car and said, “I’m nauseous. I’m going to just go home. I’m gonna kill that fucker when I see him.”
I let her out and drove back over to Ziggy’s. Gay and I went upstairs. When we arrived, Paul actually was there. He had hidden his car several blocks away. He asked me if I could give him a ride to it; he said he needed to go.
THIRTEEN
When I reached his car, he asked me if I wanted to smoke a bowl with him. He had some great stuff in his glove compartment. We climbed in, and within seconds he leaned over, grabbed me, and I felt the heat of his lips on mine. I saw the windows fog up. It was so cold we could both see our breath.
“I drove down a one-way street,” he said, practically panting, rushing to push the words out, “and I knew it. I knew I drove the wrong way, but that’s not what I was thinking. Do you know what I was thinking?”
“No,” I said between kisses.
“I was thinking, ‘my God, she looks so beautiful in that hat.’”
“Wow,” I said between kisses, “really?”
“And then when you threw that bottle on the pavement, I should have been thinking about how I might get a flat tire on the cut glass, but I wasn’t. Do you know what I was thinking?”
“What?” I asked between kisses.
“I was thinking, ‘wow, she looks so beautiful when she gets angry in that hat.’ And that coat looks great on you, too. Where’d you get that coat?”
“It’s imported seal,” I said. “It really belongs to Glinda. See here, I got five tiny driplets of red wine on it.” I was only thinking that last part. I didn’t say it out loud. Or did I?
It was midnight; we’d left Ziggy’s about a half hour ago for me to give him a ride two blocks away where he had parked his car. He kissed just like that pitcher of honey dripping. He was good at it. I knew he was good at it, because I’d kissed one other boy, so I knew. Paul knew how to kiss.
“You and Paul,” Gay whispered, and winked, when I returned to Ziggy’s.
“What took you so long?” Ziggy asked. “It should have only taken you ten minutes. You’ve been gone forty-five.”
“What?” I asked. “Are you keeping tabs on me?”
“You should have been back here a half an hour ago. Did you get lost driving two blocks?”
“What is this,” I asked, taking a toke from the passing pipe, “the Spanish inquisition?”
Someone made a joke about the Spanish inquisition, and then Ziggy continued, “You’ve been inconsiderate.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You got red wine on my sister’s white-seal coat.”
Well, what could I say to that? Number one, I was sitting on the floor and he was on the couch, and I may not have realized this consciously but he seemed above me. Number two, nobody rushed to my defense, they either seemed to be listening passively or talking amongst themselves and barely aware of my time on the witness stand, and number three, it was true. It was white, imported seal, it was his sister’s coat, and I did drip five red-wine droplets on it.
Gay leaned over, pressed against my shoulder, and whispered in my ear, “At least it wasn’t blood. I need a ride home.”
I drove Gay home. She needed a ride, and had been over at
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