6.12.2015 Journal Prompt

Photo by Dorothea Lange
Photo by Dorothea Lange

June 12, 2015: He got lonely.

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One thought on “6.12.2015 Journal Prompt

  1. He don’t feel nothin. That’s what he says. He shrugs his shoulders and he pulls on the smoke in his mouth, suckin deep, and then holdin it in, like he’s mean with it. Don’t feel nothin at all, he says, all his words slow and slidin.

    I tell Kip it’s ok. I tell him it’s only nat’ral. I say he’s gotta feel somethin. He’s just gotta.

    His pa died today, see. Mighta died in his bed any night of the week this past year, drownin in drink and sorrow on account of the loss he’d borne. His wife, Kip’s mama, laid sleepin in the churchyard ground these past twelve months, a stone for a pillow and green turf for a blanket. And Kip’s pa cussin every day since and he warn’t to church a single day followin the funeral, like he blamed God for takin his wife from him. And today there was a accident up at the mill and today Kip’s pa dead, too.

    I remember the day Kip’s mama passed. It was a grey day, like the sky had slipped a little from its higher place, and you could almost reach up and touch the dark’nin clouds, standin on tip-toe maybe, on the roof of the barn. And the air was warm and sticky, and there was a storm someplace and comin near to us. Kip and me, we was up at the swimmin hole and he was naked as a newborn and I was, too, and we was just standin there under that grey sky, standin out of the water, lookin at the differences between us. And Kip was hard and I wanted to laugh, and he leaned in and kissed me, just our lips touchin and nothin else.

    Then we was swimmin and coolin off and his cock was shrunk to almost no size at all and my nipples was hard and stiff. And like that Kip’s sister came runnin up to where we was and she was cryin, all her words made silver with spit and snot, and all her words broke and stutterin. And she said how her mama had just died.

    We got out of the water then and we shook ourselves and pulled on our clothes, as best as we could still bein wet. And Kip was not believin what his sister had told him, callin her a fool and a liar, and she was just standin there, a pillar of tears.

    After, when they carried Kip’s mama out of the house in a polished wooden box, I was with him. I stood shoulder to shoulder with him, my hand holdin his. He was cryin then, and no one could blame him, though from the look his pa gave him I thought maybe he was ashamed of Kip showin his feelins like that. And maybe that explains why Kip’s like he is today, hearin that his pa’s had an accident up at the mill, and there was nothin nobody could do, and Kip’s face shows no pain at all.

    His sister, she left home in the month after her mama passed. She went across country to stay with an aunt – her mama’s sister. So Kip’s alone now and he says he can do as he pleases, which is why he’s brought me into the house and we’re laying in Kip’s pa’s bed – once his mama’s bed, too. And we’re naked like at the swimmin hole that time and he’s touchin me, and I’m lettin him on account of I feel sorry for him. Heck, I’m touchin him back and he’s hard like before and blowin air, and suckin on his bit smoke.

    And I’m sayin he must feel somethin. He’s just gotta. Somethin.

    And he’s on top of me then and it hurts at first and he’s pressin down and pressin down and his eyes is tight shut and he says my name through his teeth and he says fuck and he says fuck again.

    And after, Kip shrinks to a child again in my arms and I hold him and I tell him he ain’t alone if he’s got me, and we lie like that till all the light leaves the room and it’s cool as caves and I can hear a wild dog howlin someplace. And it’s so dark I can’t see him cryin, but I can feel him and when I stroke his cheek there’s salt and wet in the palm of my hand.

    And I don;t know, but I am relieved at those darkness-tears, like threatenin rain when at last it falls.

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