Read Online Lemon Reef by Robin Silverman - Free Book Online

to her. I folded in beside her.
    â€œYou better not be alone with Katie.” She was playing at being jealous, but it was also true that Del and Katie Dunn were competitive over their looks, and they tended to be interested in a lot of the same guys.
    Del’s head was resting on her open hand propped by her elbow, her copper hair spilling over, her eyes, the color of straw, cradling mine. I watched her silver earring dangle, another trap for light. She played distractedly with my necklace—a gift from her neck to mine prompted by a compliment.
    â€œI love you more than anything,” I said. I was stroking her hair. “I will always love you.”
    â€œJenna, don’t…We both knew this could happen.” Her tone was both pleading and angry.
    â€œDel.” My voice was softer than usual, imploring her to look at me. “I promise you I won’t let go of you. I promise. No matter what happens, I will never let go of you.”
    â€œYou’re the only thing I care about.” Her inflection was accusatory. “How I feel about you is the only thing that matters to me, it’s the only thing keeping me here.”
    She kissed me, her confidence returning. I heard her submit to what was taking hold between us, her now-familiar sounds launching my stomach in fits and starts.
    I stopped, took hold of her face, and whispered, “I’ve never been able to handle that.”
    She was mildly annoyed by the interruption. “What?”
    â€œYour sounds.”
    She bent her face away. “You’re embarrassing me, Jen.”
    â€œWhy would you be embarrassed?” I kidded. “I’m the one it makes quick-cum like a boy.”
    She laughed.
    I touched her bruised skin.
    She smiled and wrapped her hand around mine, holding it tightly against her face.
    â€œI’m worried about you,” I said.
    â€œDon’t be.” She was staring at me intently, almost transfixed. Then, in a resigned tone, she said, “Some people make it and some people don’t.”
    I started to fight with her, but she looked so sad. I was afraid anything I said would make her sadder still. Without moving her gaze from mine, she played with the button on my jeans until it came undone and then pulled clumsily on my zipper.
    I stopped her hand. “I don’t think we should do this now.”
    â€œPlease,” her lips pressed against mine, “I need to.” The “to” fell off at the end, nearly indiscernible.
    I spread my legs for her and kissed her back.

    *

    A jolt in the plane left my stomach hanging a few rows behind me. The stewardess, approaching with my second drink, performed that trick of her trade of turning momentarily to rubber rather than clutch a passenger or even a seatback. My Bloody Mary lifted and fell slightly in her hand as though she was offering a silent toast, and then she delivered it to me with notice of ceremony, collecting my four dollars as part of the same efficient gesture.
    I thought about a nine-year-old boy I had represented right out of law school. While visiting with him at his foster home, I watched in disbelief as he stepped to the edge of a tall slide, called out to me, and then took an elaborate swan dive, landing headfirst in hard sand. I leaped from the bench to the ground beside him, taking hold of his arm.
    â€œAre you okay?”
    Working to bring me into focus, he said of the sand, “I thought it was water.”
    He was mildly embarrassed, but mostly confused, and even a little amused. Glad that he was not physically injured, I brushed the sand from his forehead and hair and helped him to his feet.
    The professionals around me wondered why I was not more concerned about this “hallucination”—why I did not feel the need to rush this boy to the nearest psychiatric hospital and insist that he get some kind of medication. I couldn’t explain it to them because I didn’t understand my