Avoiding Amy Jackson

by N. A. Alcorn

  Maybe I can just shave it?

  I take a few deep breaths and hop around on the balls of my feet like I’m ready to jump in the ring. Okay, you can do this. Just hop in the shower and shave these pubes off. This could work. This will work. I storm into the bathroom and proceed to strip down naked and turn the shower on. I stand in front of the full-length mirror, coming face to face with the thick black bush between my legs.

  Oh. My. God.

  This is terrible.

  A god damn travesty.

  I scream in frustration and start throwing shit out of the bathroom closet, desperately looking for a razor. God dammit! Where is a razor when you need one! Maybe Lizzy has one in her room? That bitch is notorious for being organized and never running out of anything. I stride my naked ass into Lizzy’s bedroom and start rummaging through her stuff in a frantic search for a razor.

  “Aha! Found it!” I hold the razor up in my hand and jump up and down like I just found the cure for cancer. I catch another glimpse of my furry pussy in Lizzy’s mirror and tears start to stream down my face. I know, it might seem a little crazy to cry over this situation, but I take serious pride in my snatch being well-groomed. I treat her as if she were a real person. And right now, my best girl resembles Aretha Franklin’s afro. Someone give her a microphone. I think she might start belting out R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

  “It’s okay. We’re going to get you fixed up in no time.” I take a minute to comfort my vagina before proceeding with my one-woman mission to get my bushy pubes under control. I stroll out of Lizzy’s bedroom and head back into the hallway.

  “Amy?” I hear a familiar deep voice behind me. I know that voice. Why is that voice in my apartment? I turn around and next thing I know, I’m face to face with James. He stands at the end of my hallway with a huge smile on his face.

  I’m startled and now desperately trying to cover my bush o’ pubes from James’s view. “How did you get in here?”

  “Well…” He runs his hand through his hair in hesitant movements. His demeanor is cautious as he tries to explain his unexpected visit. “You left your apartment door unlocked and I heard someone in here screaming and crying. I thought maybe something was wrong.” His eyes slowly move down my body, taking in my naked state.

  “Stop looking at me!” I screech out as I frenziedly try to cover myself up with both hands.

  “Shit! I’m sorry!” James turns his head, looking away from me.

  “Get your ass into the living room,” I demand, which causes him to take another glimpse in my direction. “Oh my god, James! Stop fucking looking at me!” I shout before turning around and running into my bathroom. I quickly grab a towel, wrap it tightly around myself, and head back out into the living room, where James has now made himself comfortable on my couch. I give him an irritated stare with my hands securely on my hips.

  He ignores my crossness. “Why did I hear screaming and crying before?” James’s eyes are a brilliant shade of green today. They stare back at me with curiosity.

  I sigh heavily and the movement of my chest causes his gaze to start a slow descent down my body. I sternly motion for him to bring his gaze back to mine. “Eyes up here, idiot.”

  James chuckles and I roll my eyes in response. “Seriously, Amy. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” I huff out in exasperation. “I just had a minor emergency. Can you give me a minute? I need to take a quick shower.”

  “Sure thing, doll. I’ll keep myself busy.” He waves the remote control in the air.

  I start to head for the hallway and turn back towards him. “What made you stop by anyways?”

  “I had the day off, and I knew you had the day off, so I figured we could hang out together.”

  I raise my eyebrow at him, my face incredulous.

  “You know, as friends. That’s what friends do. They hang out sometimes—enjoy each other’s company in a purely platonic perspective.” He raises his eyebrow right back at me, giving me that all too familiar smug grin of his.

  “You are kind of an asshole right now for just showing up here without any heads up, but sure, we can hang out. I’ll be right back.”

  His face lights up with a warm smile and he nods his head before he points the remote at the television and starts scrolling through the channels.

  I make quick work of my shower and do my best to shave my little muff so she’s as bald as Mr. Clean’s head. I managed to get in and out without any casualties despite the fact that I almost fell three times while trying to lift my leg. Shaving a vagina is no easy feat. There are a lot of nooks and crannies to work around. Now I remember why I started getting waxed in the first place. My Italian genes have kindly given me the thickest bush o’ pubes on this side of the Mississippi. Consequently, after I succeeded in getting things back in order, Lizzy’s brand new razor is already on its last leg.

  I make a mental note to pick up more razors the next time I’m at the store so Ms. Organization doesn’t have a minor freak-out when she realizes she’s missing some inventory. After living with Lizzy for several months, I would lay money on the fact that she keeps track of everything. Luckily for her, she has several brand-new razors on hand, so she won’t be faced with any type of emergency shaving situation in the near future.

  I toss on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, throw my wet locks up into a messy bun, and head for the living room. James is engrossed in some National Geographic show about sharks. I sit next to him, curling my legs up under me and leaning against the arm of the couch. My presence causes James to look over and grin.

  He promptly turns off the television and turns his body towards mine. “Feel better?”

  I laugh despite myself. “Yeah. A lot better.”

  “Sorry about barging in on you—although it definitely benefitted me.” His eyebrows waggle up and down.

  I give him a pointed stare. “Friends aren’t supposed to see each other naked, nor are they supposed to comment about enjoying seeing each other naked, even if it was an accident.”

  James chuckles and gently pats my thigh. “I’m still trying to get the hang of this being friends thing. I think I deserve some sort of learning curve.”

  “You’re really asking for a lot.”

  “So since we’re friends and friends share everything with each other, I think you should tell me why you were in here screaming and crying.” He tilts his head to the side, patiently waiting for an explanation.

  I run my hand over my face and sigh in frustration. “You really are pushing this whole friendship thing, aren’t you?”

  He nods his head yes.

  “Well, I had an appointment today—a waxing appointment—and the lady canceled on me.” I grimace when I remember the way my best girl looked before I shaved her bald.

  “Waxing appointment?” He looks at me inquisitively.

  “Yes, waxing appointment. You know, like a Brazilian wax. I don’t generally sport the ‘70s-porn bush look. I keep my shit nice and tidy, and well, when Marie canceled on me today because she decided to get the flu, I kind of lost it. What can I say? I take pride in my vagina’s appearance.”

  “So that’s why I thought I saw Duck Dynasty in your apartment?” James tries to keep a straight face and hold back the urge to burst out in laughter.

  I grab a pillow and smack him upside the head. “God, you’re a dick and pretty much the worst friend a girl could ask for.”

  He throws his head back, laughing at my expense.

  Fucking Duck Dynasty. Okay, even I’ll admit that one was a little funny. I hit him upside the head with the pillow again, just for good measure, but I can’t hold back the smile that’s plastered on my face. His deep laugh sends shivers through my spine, which I do my best to ignore. James scoots next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze.

  “So, friend, what should we do today?” He peeks down at me.

  “You’re the one who just showed up here unexpected, and after that Duck Dynasty comment, I thin
k you need to come up with something really good.” I grin up at him, delight filling my brown eyes.

  “Let’s go grab some lunch and see a movie.”

  “That sounds like a date, James,” I chide with an annoyed look.

  “No, this is definitely not a date. We’re just friends, hanging out, platonically enjoying each other’s company.” He shoots me a wink and nudges me flirtatiously.

  “I have a feeling you’re going to need a huge learning curve on this whole friendship thing.”

  “I have a feeling you’re probably right.” He lets go of my shoulder and stands up from the couch. “Come on! Get your sweet ass up and let’s go!” He grabs my hands and pulls me up to a standing position.

  “Ground rules. No groping, calling me sweet ass, or trying to shove your tongue in my mouth.” I clear my throat and hold up one finger. “And one more thing. No eye-fucking me like a creeper.”

  His throaty laugh fills the apartment. “But we still get to play grab-ass like the other night, right?”

  “James!”

  He barks out a chuckle as he holds both hands up in the air. “I’m kidding, doll. Get your shit and let’s go. I’m starving and can’t wait to not date you.”

  I head for the kitchen to grab my purse and ignore the fact that his last comment gave me an uncomfortable twinge of disappointment. James and I are going to be friends. Yes, I can do this. I have no reason to feel disappointment because this is how things should be between us and I will stop thinking about him in dirty, wicked ways.

  I’m not going to think dirty things when I’m around James.

  I’m going to repeat this mantra every time I’m with him until I convince myself that dirty and James do not even belong in the same sentence.

  Hmmm, James and dirty things…

  James thrusting into me…

  James with his face between my thighs…

  James’s perfect hands on my body… Stop!

  Ah, fuck.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Best friends will defend your dildo’s honor

  and fight for your missing bottle of lube.” - Amy

  I made a quick trip home over Christmas to visit my parents in Louisville. I might have also been motivated to make the weekend excursion because one of my best friends from high school was having her bachelorette party. My friend Susan is getting ready to marry the man she starting dating when we were fifteen and I didn’t want to miss celebrating with her. We were so close growing up and I hate that we’ve lost touch since I moved to Charlotte.

  Spending time with my family was nice but difficult at times. Being with them always reminds me of Benny, and the fact that he is permanently missing from my life made everything even harder. I miss him like crazy. I reflect on what it would be like if he were still a part of my life. If he were still here. Where would I be if my little brother were still alive? Just thinking about him and the horrific accident that took his life brings tears to my eyes. My heart breaks for him every day. Every single day I lose another small piece, and I’m afraid that one day there will be nothing left but a cavernous black hole. Whenever I allow my thoughts to wonder to the day we lost Benny, I physically feel pain in my chest—a giant hole of misery that never stops aching.

  God, it hurts. It hurts like hell.

  I’ve pushed my emotions down for so long that I’m scared of what will happen if I ever truly face them. This never-ending avoidance act is going to end up biting me in the ass someday. I’ve come to the stark realization that I have zero coping mechanisms. Circumvention and compartmentalization are the worst things anyone can do when they lose a loved one or go through any type of traumatic event, but I just can’t seem to help myself. I’m an avoider.

  A selfish, unemotional, closed-off avoider.

  My mom and dad were thrilled to have me home for a few days over the holidays. We opened presents and did a few Christmas traditions with family and friends. Traditions we’ve been doing since I was a kid. I loved spending time with them and catching up on what they’ve been up to over the past couple of months, but being home is just one giant reminder of what we’re all missing. A flashing, neon sign that makes my chest throb and fills my head with whys and what-ifs. And it didn’t help that my mother and father continued their daily ritual of walking to Benny’s gravesite. Christmas was no exception. I should have gone with them. I know they wanted me to, but I just couldn’t. Not once was I able to muster up the courage to visit my brother. I know this causes my mother pain she doesn’t deserve.

  Despite the excruciating reminder Louisville seems to be for me, I did enjoy myself at Susan’s bachelorette party. Her maid-of-honor rented a party bus and we drove through downtown Louisville while getting sloshed. We spent the remainder of the evening at a strip club where hot guys slicked up with baby oil gyrated their cocks all over the bride-to-be. I was truly amazed at how male strippers manage to keep their dicks hard for an entire night. I found myself just staring at the giant bulges in their G-strings, waiting for one of them to go soft. I was fully prepared to scream, “We’ve got a cock down! I repeat, we’ve got a cock down! Mayday! Mayday! Danger, Will Robinson! Hurry, someone get this guy a cock ring!”

  While one of the strippers was giving me a lap dance, I proceeded to ask him one thousand and one questions about how he keeps his boner the entire night. First of all, don’t judge me. I felt like it was my civic duty to help this working man out, and if my sacrifice was paying him fifty dollars to rub his giant cock all over my legs, well consider me the Mother Teresa of strip joint patrons. And after I bought my fourth lap dance from him, because obviously you can’t get all of your questions answered in just one dance, I’d basically just bought his books for his upcoming college semester while simultaneously getting all of my answers.

  Rocko was a nice guy, and I enjoyed him undulating himself all over my body. I wasn’t that thrilled with the occasional ball-to-face brushes, but that’s my cross to bear. I’m just glad that I was able to support this working guy, and the fact that I surrendered two hundred dollars out of my wallet shows I actually do have the capability of being generous sometimes. I also managed to learn that some male strippers do in fact wear cock rings, some use performance-enhancing drugs, and some actually watch porn on their breaks to get things bonerized. It’s amazing how you can learn things in the most unexpected places. Who would have thought that a trip to the strip club could also serve as an educational opportunity? I need to make trips there more often.

  So all in all, I’d say my weekend trip to Louisville was a success. I got to spend some much-needed time with my parents and party my ass of in Susan’s honor. The informative cock facts were just an added bonus.

  I walk off of my direct flight to Charlotte, where James has agreed to meet me at baggage claim. Ellen and Lizzy were both too busy, and I decided that I’m going to continue to give this whole friendship thing a shot with Limp Dick. He didn’t even think twice before he agreed to give me a ride home from the airport. Maybe he really is a nice guy…

  I shoot him a quick text letting him know my flight just landed and I’m about five minutes away from our arranged meet-up location.

  He quickly responds back.

  James: Sounds good. What color is your luggage? I’ll keep an eye out for it.

  Me: Pink suitcase with a white ribbon tied around the handle.

  James: Figures.

  I laugh a little at his response.

  Me: Shut up, dickhead.

  James: Just get your ass to baggage claim so I don’t have to look like a fucking tool.

  Me: For that response, I’m stopping at Starbucks and getting a coffee. Want anything?

  James: Medium black coffee. Thanks, sweetheart.

  I can guarantee there’s a whole lot of sarcasm in that last message.

  I get our coffees from Starbucks and progress towards baggage claim with a pace that most would call extremely slow. I find James standing near one of the luggage carousels with my neon pink
suitcase in hand. He’s got an odd expression on his face as he continues to watch something move around the carousel track. I stand beside him and follow his eyes to see what in the hell has him so riveted.

  “Uh, why are we standing here staring at luggage?”

  He doesn’t even bother looking in my direction, his eyes still fixated on the moving track. “Just keep watching. You’ll see it in about ten seconds.”

  I glance at the crowd huddled around this particular baggage claim and notice everyone is just standing, gawking in amusement. What in the hell is going on? I feel like I just entered the Twilight Zone.

  And then I see it.

  A giant purple dildo moving along the track all by its lonesome.

  I should probably go ahead and explain that it’s actually my dildo, the generous parting gift I was given at Susan’s bachelorette party. I’m not really a dildo kind of girl, but I feel sad seeing my lonely purple cock sliding along the track while everyone continues to stare at him. My eyes scan the crowd again. A few women openly gawk with disgusted, judgmental looks while whispering back and forth to each other. Their reactions piss me off.

  “Here. Take these.” I shove the cups of coffee into James’s chest, triggering a perplexed look from him.

  I stride straight up to the luggage carousel and grab my dildo friend off of the track. The shocked gasps and whispers that begin to occur behind me spur my official undoing. My back goes ramrod straight, and it’s safe to say I’ve reached a point of no return. These assholes have no idea what is about to occur. I hop onto the metal barrier surrounding the baggage claim and start to go on a rampage.

  “All right! Who took it? I had a giant bottle of lube tied to this cock and now it’s missing!” I look at a few of the women I saw judging my purple dick and proceed to point my dildo at them. “Was it you? What about you? Which one of you has a cunt that is so dry that you need to steal other people’s lube! Where are you, you slippery juice bandit! Once I find you, I will perform forcible butt play on your love-oil-heisting ass until your dead grandmother feels it!” I’m now shouting so loud that people from other baggage claims are beginning to look our way.