Shower

The bathroom was the epicenter of all life’s grief: a place to cleanse wounds, wash away the evidence of sexual transgressions, and purge toxins. A place to replace the face before returning to the world.

Gigi curled into a ball at the bottom of the shower stall, cradling her bleeding fist. Sobs undulated within her body while not a whimper escapes her quaking red lips.

The night before she’d been drinking from a warm bottle of Riesling still in the brown paper bag and staggering the midnight streets like a wino. The bottle was only one method to quiet her racing mind. Sleep was no longer possible as her thoughts did not stop falling from one dark dream into another.

This morning Gigi had tried to gaze into her own pale green eyes wondering if they displayed her torment. She’d put her feeble fist through the medicine cabinet when she imagined a cloud passing through the depths of green.

Red ribbons of skin hung from her fingers. Gigi knew she needed stitches to hold the delicate skin together; however, a hospital asks too many questions. Gigi stood before the shattered mirror, wound gauze around her hand, and watched her fractured reflection.

Bike Ride

I was fourteen when the accident happened.  I was riding my new road bike.  So proud of my shiny bike, I let go of the handlebars smugly enjoying the balance.  In that instant, Jonas and his dad backed out of their driveway for Jonas’ first driving lesson.  The next instant, I was lying on the curb bleeding and shaking.  Jonas was distraught; his first time driving he’d nearly killed someone before he’d made it out of the driveway.  His parents rushed around me checking my head, bringing me water, and waiting with me for the ambulance.  Jonas and I locked eyes before I was put into the ambulance.  The matter of our relationship was decided in that moment.

Nebraska’s landscape was marked with war: the Heartland Museum of Military Vehicles, Strategic Air Command, and nearly every car had a yellow ribbon magnet stuck a bumper or fender. It seemed violence made for excellent tourism.

Somewhere outside Lincoln, Aislin spotted a large homemade billboard in a cornfield that read, “Outlaw Sodomy.” Alfred scrambled for purchase on the passenger seat as Aislin nearly drove off the road. She corrected and eased back into her lane.

“How happy do you think that guy’s wife is?”

Albert whined.

“I just imagine her laying on her back, her heels pointed to Jesus, and wondering if beige was the right colour for the ceiling.

Chuff.

“I supposed you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Bark.

“Most people think sodomy is limited to anal sex; however, most foreplay favourites are included under that heading.”

Albert licked Aislin’s face from chin to forehead as if to punctuate her statement.

The ribbon of highway cutting across the Cornhusker and Hawkeye States was an easy drive with plenty of rest areas for Albert to frolic, squat, and sniff.

Photo: http://sycamores-and-cedars.deviantart.com/