Aftertaste

This is the stripped Flash version of “The Cure” in Short Story Fiction

She rolled to a stop on the grass and gravel, walked the ten yards, watched a moment.

He stood in the center of the bridge over the creek, dropped bits of paper the size of dimes. She knew as they fluttered out of sight they would find the water for him, float away.

When he squinted, the morning sun that forced its way though the oak canopy wove a blanket of diamonds over the creek. He thought of the refracting sunglasses someone had given him as a gift. How they would have made the creek diamonds explode into color, made him lose his balance. He rolled the dead roach between his thumb and finger, set the paper free.

He turned to greet her, received a big, warm, cheerful kiss for his effort. She was wearing sunglasses, squeezed his butt with both hands, pulled him to her, kissed him again, let him go.

“What was that, babe?”

He gazed at the creek where the paper bits had landed, floated away. “Arrogance?”

She raised the sunglasses, her eyes a question mark.

“Nice to see you but not really. Beat it, don’t ever call, come by, ever again. Get lost, stay that way.”

“Yeah?” Beside him now she stuck her hand in his back pocket, squeezed his butt again. “Anyone I know?”

“No. Grown up sorority girl a long time gone. Getting married sometime.” He sent a Marlboro menthol spinning toward the creek in pursuit of the shredded arrogance.

“You’ll never be anything but a long, hard weekend for a sorority girl, buddy. You should know that by now.” She turned him, draped her arms on top of his shoulders, kissed him again. She’d been to the lake early this spring, had the dusting of freckles to prove it.

“It was way before Kama Sutra Judy and her waterbed.”

“Still…”

She was a take charge girl who left the feeling of a thrown party in her wake, would initiate sex often and enthusiastically, anything deeper than the surface was too deep, she wished no emotional investment only mutual gratification. She smiled, kept her eyes on his face. “Just like that, beat it?”

“She dressed it up. Wrote it by hand.”

“Nice stationary?”

“Yeah. Lipstick on a pig. Only one of those I’ve ever gotten.” He liked the freckles. Not usually but on her they worked. “Have you ever been the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to someone?”

Her eyes got wide, filled quickly with humor. Her voice dropped to a theatric “Noooo-ooo.”

Of course she hadn’t. Attractive, sexually predatory women in their mid twenties who had been married, divorced, walked like they owned the pavement and were born to wear clothes embarrassed no one. Him? Probably.

“I think I have.”

“That’s hard to believe. Were you a butt-ugly baby?”

“A lot of stupid high school guy shit I think. Virginity thief maybe.”

“You all do that. So what? Next. That’s the arrogance? I’m different now, beat it. If you vanish she’s a slightly used, unembarrassed virgin?”

“In that pocket. Like after all this time I’m the love sick puppy peeing on her door. Again. I thought about sending her an ‘I’m not an idiot’ note. ‘Excuse me, your highness. I’m on my way the hell out of Dodge with a long legged sex machine. I made you and your trip years ago.’ The last word game sucks. So it slides.”

She held the trunk open, make up case in the other hand. “Long legged I liked. Machine might grow on me. This stays on top, drop yours in, I’ll drop mine and we’ll blow this high rent cab stand.”

“Drop yours, drop mine in, blow I liked.” He checked the U-Haul chain. Checked her with a look.

“Done is done, babe.”

“You’re right. Six years done.”

“Six years? Okay. For a won’t face you ‘beat it’ letter after six years I’ll give you the arrogance call. Didn’t want to.” She set the makeup case down, smiled. “Guys are assholes sometimes when they get the word, but six years late and a stamp? Some sisters…” She didn’t light the cigarette in her hand, tried to suck his tongue out instead. Eye to eye. “Done is done. Now is now. Okay?”

“Yeah. Like licking a penny. It’s the aftertaste.”

She was in his face with a handful of shirt, pulled him closer.”I have a cure for that.”

 

 

 

Advertisements

Published by

Phil Huston

https://philh52.wordpress.com/

One thought on “Aftertaste”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s