2.4.2014 Journal Prompt

Photo by Danny Lyon
Photo by Danny Lyon

February 4, 2014: When I think of him…

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One thought on “2.4.2014 Journal Prompt

  1. Lindsay

    When I thinks of him, I is all soft and silly in my head. Like Simple Sally and she smiles and reaches out to discover scorpions in the dirt, doin it agin and agin when she’s been stung so many times before. And I has scolded her sometimes, and I has said to her they is as bad as bad can be, and still she smiles and thinks they is somethin like lizards and she can play with ‘em. And I is like Sally is with scorpions when I thinks of him.

    We has a history, see, me and Billy Watkins. And there was times before when what he was to me was gentle, and sweet in his talkin, and even respectful. Knowed him since I was a girl and he was a boy with his shirt off and his hair long and pretty. And he asked me straight out, first time we met, asked if I’d be his someone special. We was ten years tall and he made me the centre of the whole world. That’s what it felt like.

    ‘Course there ain’t no rules when you is ten and there was more than me that he called special. Billy Watkins collected kisses like they was baseball cards. All the boys was the same. And us girls, we talked of those boy-kisses, measurin them and sayin who was best and who was worst.

    Then we was suddenly older and not just kisses between us. Touchin and strokin, and pinchin a little. Breathless in the summer dark at the back of church, and moanin like prayin, and hosannas sent heavenwards for our earthly delights. Billy put a old brass curtain ring on my finger and he said we was goin steady now. But I knowed he was still fuckin Louisa and Missy and Charlotte.

    Some boys is made for hoein fields and buildin walls and puttin a roof over everythin. Tommy Kettle, and he was fond of me once and I reckon he may be yet. And Al Murdie and Kit Brett. They is all good men and straight and they do amount to somethin already though they is just in their mid years. But Billy Watkins, he don’t amount to shit and he wont ever be a honest man or anythin more than he is.

    Billy, and he’s a brood of bastards in every street, and I knows ‘cos I got me two of ‘em. And he comes sniffin round here when he’s been chucked out of most every other place. And his words is all soft and spun sugar at first. And there aint a girl who can resist him, ‘ceptin the minister’s daughter, Anna, and she is all sharp edges and stiff as if she was made of stone. And I tried once to be upright as the minister’s daughter, and stern and ungivin; but Billy is devil-tongued and he would woo an Eve to eat of a second apple, I swears he would, and so I lets him in my bed again every time.

    There’s a green mark on my finger from the brass curtain ring I still wears sometimes. That’s how soft and silly I can be. I knows he’ll be gone when he’s had his fill. A month or two at best is all we has before he’s feelin an itch and his thoughts strayin towards a Milly up on Cartwright Road, or Alison out by Brewer’s Mill, or Simple Sally who suffers scorpion stings.

    And when he’s gone, I cuss him at first. And my heart breaks over, and I swears to never take him back again. And I call myself a fool, and weak, and I repent me of all my sins, and I make friends with Anna and I ask her to teach me how to be as she is. But soon enough, when I thinks of him, I is smilin and I is wet between my legs and rememberin, soft and silly, all the ten year old girls in school sayin Billy is the best kisser there ever was, better than the rest by a stagecoach mile.

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