American River Review 2019 - Flipbook - Page 28
palms under my favorite sweater. The next day at school
he told all his friends he had made it all the way and I had
let him, for reasons I didn’t quite understand. But when
your best friend squeals and grabs you and asks you how
it was, eyes like honey, you say amazing just to see her
smile.
“You’re beautiful.” She whispered
“Please stop.”
“Don’t cover up, don’t hide. This is exactly what I
need.”
“Too make me feel uncomfortable? To be the one in
power?”
“Of course not, silly. To see the power in something so
gentle.”
I’ll never forget the smell of her sunscreen and vanilla
chapstick, the scent soft and warm. Her face looked weak
at moments, mighty at others, like sitting in a rowboat
on a vast river bank, the tide ebbing and flowing, giving
and taking, on the surface gentle, underneath the current
all consuming. Like before, time was not to be trusted;
some moments felt paused, like I had lived in this version
of Eden always, and then others I begged for it to slow
down, I wanted to live in this Eden forever. As with Eve,
though, we both could not stay. As the end approached
I heard her whisper his name. Someone had to bite the
apple, and if this is how Adam felt, I might, for once, side
with the man.
We stayed close for a while, but I was changed, and she
was not. I heard through old friends or maybe Facebook,
what’s the difference these days, that she had married a
businessman. I looked him up and he was all sharp edges,
but I’m sure his hands were smooth from not being used.
Their kids got his dark eyes, and that killed me inside.
Since then all my flames have been candles instead of
firecrackers. None have shined as warmly as hers. And
as I look around this coffee shop I can’t imagine meeting
anyone that makes me feel like summer around all these
dark storm clouds, so I pay for my coffee and leave.
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American River Review