Text

A mere brush of lips. Softly kissing Kitty in the kitchen as he watched, eyes rapt and innocent. I could smell the perfume of her skin and wanted to hide my face in the hollow of her neck. Instead, she pulled away with a smile that tugged downwards at the corners. Not really a smile at all. I had tasted of her lips and now she would brush away my concern. The growth in her uterus, a dark child, stood between us. Her smile was bright and left a small cold pit in my stomach. I ached for the brush of her fingertips along my arm. I ached for Mrs. Dalloway, planning her party, never knowing that life was setting up a surprise for her. Like a surprise birthday cake. I turned to the cake and saw the icing letters set in too wobbly a hand. Felt so small inside that the tears I held dissipated.

She told me that she had to be going. Her smile was so bright and fierce that I flinched. There was a hospital waiting for her. There was a man who would visit her. I could not visit her in the time of her need. Nor did I want to. I wanted to savor the stolen kiss underneath my child's watchful gaze. He who watched me always. Certain that I would disappear if he did not hold my reflection in his eyes. She left with her skirt rustling and the soft scent of her skin in my nostrils. I wanted to call after her and say something wise. I did not want to stand there in that kitchen with his miserable gaze upon me. He sensed my mood and his lower lip softly trembled. The tears startled me as he leapt into my arms and asked fiercely, "Do you love me?"

"Of course, baby, of course I love you," I cooed in that mother's voice that I had when Dan was watching. How to act like a mother? I did not know except when I felt his calm look. When I had an audience I played for them but, without them, I felt lost. There was a piece of me that was like tinfoil and it rustled when there was no audience. It felt bitter.

"Will you be with me always?" his eyes were hard on me. I felt suddenly cold inside. I thought of my book and longed for it. I wanted to read about the party and forget.

Instead I said, "Always." I buried my face in his soft hair and smelled the clean scent of him. I thought of her soft lips against mine and said again, "Always."

In that soft white bed where so many had lain before me I lay. I could feel the bitterness of the pills in my hand. My wanting tongue could almost taste their subdued green and the coldness of their gaze left me paralyzed. I wanted to finish my book first. Mrs. Dalloway was preparing for her party, I wanted to feel the unrightness of her world. Everyone thought she was fine, she was strong.

Instead I turned the pill bottle in my hand and opened it. Green pills spilled out onto my steady hand. The water stood in a glass by the bed. I was thirsty. So thirsty. In this room there was no boy, there was no man. There was only me and the pills. I closed my eyes and thought of that kiss that wasn't really a kiss. The softness of her mouth. I wanted to feel it again. I wanted to feel more. More.