Slow Fires with bonus story Alligators & Orgasms

by Sarah Black

  “I think you’re strong, but you will be stronger with your men around you. Families need to stay together. You go now and stay with your lion, and your bear. They’ll keep you safe. They’ll keep the monsters away from you.” He kissed her on the forehead and walked out the front door.

  Mia looked down in the box. She picked up the tiny pot, no bigger than a plum, wrapped in newspaper. He had played with this in his grandmother’s hogan when he was a boy. He’d said it was the last one left. She picked up the pot and hurried out the front door after him. “Mr. Benally! I can’t take it. It’s too special. Your grandmother’s pot!”

  He turned back, smiling. “Who else would I give it to but you? I know you will love it the way I loved it. I kept your little drawing of the leaves, to remind me.”

  She looked over his shoulder and felt ice sweep into her stomach. Someone had wrecked her truck. The front windshield was smashed, the tires flat. He spun around and looked at it, then moved in front of her. “Mia, get back in the house ...”

  The rock came out flying out of nowhere, black and jagged and heavy. It smashed into her temple. She couldn’t put her hands up, she couldn’t protect herself when she fell to the ground, because she was holding the tiny pot, and she couldn’t break it. She couldn’t let it break. It was the last one.

  He picked her up and carried her back into the house, set her down on the couch. Blood was streaming down her face, and she kept the pot carefully away from the blood. She hadn’t been able to save the baby bowl. She was not going to lose this pot. Mr. Benally was clicking his tongue, pressing some paper towels from the kitchen to the cut on her head. “When will they be here?”

  “I don’t know. Hit the redial on my phone.”

  She watched him pick up her tiny cell, open it carefully and hit the button. “Hello? This is Grayson Benally. No, everything is not okay. I will stay here with her, but I think you must come right away. Okay. Okay.” He closed the phone and set it down on the table. “They say ten minutes.”

  He pulled the radio off his belt and started talking into it, and within a few minutes cars were parked in front of her house. Dr. Whitehorse walked into the house and sat down next to her on the couch. “Oh, Mia. I’m so sorry this happened. Mr. Benally has the men from the maintenance department outside, guarding the house. Let me take you to the hospital now.”

  She shook her head. “My guys will be here in a few minutes. I never told you how sorry I am for the trouble this will cause your school. I know you’ve worked hard to make this a safe and good place for the children. I’m sorry that my choice has caused your school harm. I promise you, it wasn’t intentional.”

  He studied her face. “I know that, Mia. The school will be fine. But that cut looks bad. It’s still bleeding.”

  Headlights suddenly bounced across the yard, and Russ and Kevin were out of the truck and running. Russ reached for her and scooped her up in his arms. “Oh, Mia. Hold on, baby. Just hold the bandage tight.” He looked over at Mr. Benally. “Thank you.” Kevin grabbed the keys and her backpack, ran back to the truck. Russ climbed in, holding her tightly against his chest, and Kevin drove in reverse, bouncing over the curb. Then he put the truck in gear and floored it. Kevin didn’t slow down until they were twenty miles gone. Mia was dizzy and nauseated, the head wound throbbing all the way down to her bones, but she could smell them, could feel their arms around her, and she knew she was safe. “Be careful. I’ve got Mr. Benally’s little pot in the backpack. It’s in bubble-wrap and a small box, but still let’s be careful.”

  Russ was rocking her in his arms, and Kevin kept reaching over to touch whatever piece of her legs he could reach. “Keep both hands on the wheel, Kevin. We’re driving really fast.”

  “Yeah, okay, Russ.” He rubbed hard across his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Mia, what happened?”

  “Someone threw a big black rock at me. From the direction of Mrs. Miller’s house. I was out in the front yard talking to Mr. Benally.”

  “Why were you home? Isn’t it the middle of the school day?”

  Mia felt her stomach fold in on itself. She didn’t want to tell them, didn’t want to say it out loud and make it real. “Kevin, the Director and the School Board President called me in and said they had gotten letters about ... about us. Complaints of sexual impropriety and misconduct of various kinds, but mostly it was just us. They asked me if it was true, that I was with you two, and when I said yes they let me resign.” Her voice trailed off. “Said it was best for the school.”

  “Who wrote the letters, Mia?”

  She stared at him for a second. “Kevin, I don’t know. I never even thought to ask. They said they had gotten similar letters from my neighbor, Mrs. Miller, which added weight to the accusations.”

  Russ sat up, adjusted the paper towels at the wound on her head. “It doesn’t matter now, Kevin.”

  “Yes, it does,” he said. “Do you hear her, Russ; do you hear how she sounds? Do you see the blood on her face? I’m going to put a fucking bullet in Jessica’s brain.”

  “Kevin, shut up. Don’t make Mia listen to this.”

  Mia put her hands up over her face, tears streaked with blood dripping off her chin and staining her sweatshirt. “Please ... Please don’t fight.”

  “Mia ...”

  “Kevin, please. I love you. Just let it go now, please. I can’t ...”

  “Russ, you were right, man. I’m a fucking idiot, and this is my fault.” Kevin was crying. “I need to just go, just leave you two alone before I do something else, before something fucking worse happens.”

  Russ rocked her gently in his arms. “You told Mia that we don’t deny each other. Well, we don’t run away when we screw up, either, Kevin. You got to stick around so we can work this through as a family. Listen, you don’t have any control over the choices other people make, to pick up a pen or to pick up a rock. Yeah, Jessica’s got a hard-on for you. But you don’t know her. That girl was just waiting to self-destruct. Mia’s crazy neighbor has probably been crazy for years. Mom was going to find out one day, no way around it. ” He sighed. “We need to let it go now, because Mia doesn’t like it when we fight, and neither do I.”

  Kevin nodded. “I love you both. You know that, right? I love you more than clay.”

  Mia put her head down on Russ’s shoulder, reached a hand out and put it flat against Kevin’s face. When the tears were done, she closed her eyes, opened them, closed them again. “Do I have blood in my eye?”

  Russ lifted the paper towels. “No, Mia. The cut is about two inches. It’s on your temple, then goes down next to your eye. Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t see out of that eye, Russ. Everything is dark gray, like a curtain was pulled closed across my vision.” Kevin gulped back a sob and floored the accelerator again, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

  She was in the ER at the hospital in Flag. Kevin had driven straight through, only stopping for gas and a cup of very sweet hot tea they made her drink because Russ’s grandmother had always said it was good for shock.

  The curtain around the ER cubicle was pulled back, and a young doctor stood there. An older woman was standing behind him with a chart. He had sutured the cut and examined the eye, and the woman had drawn blood, started an IV, and swabbed the blood off her face with a warm washcloth and gentle hands.

  “The retina’s detached,” he said. “That’s why you can’t see out of that eye. The force of the blow, it caused this shearing action, and the retina pulled away from the back of the eyeball. Maybe there’s some bleeding inside the eye.”

  The older woman turned and stared at him until he took a step back and held up his hands. “What?”

  “Dr. Makenzie, I’ll go over the labwork with this patient, shall I?” She held open the curtain, and he shrugged again and left. The nurse snapped the curtain back into place, shaking her head. “Sorry, honey.” She pulled a chair up next to Mia’s bed. “What he meant to say was that we don’t know if the injury to
the eye is permanent. We’re going to try surgical repair, but sometimes we just have to wait and see what happens. Surgery is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. And the big guy outside asked me to please explain that you still have health insurance that will cover this.” The woman brushed the hair back from Mia’s forehead. “He said you worried about health insurance. I do, too. Rocks come flying out of nowhere all the time.”

  The woman brought her a warm washcloth. She dropped her hands, and the nurse put it over her bruised and painful face. “There’re a couple of good-looking young guys pacing around like tigers in the waiting room. One of them belong to you?”

  Mia took a deep breath and pulled the washcloth from her face, met the other woman’s eyes. “Yes. Both of them.”

  The woman blinked in surprise and sat back, then laughed softly and took Mia’s hand. “Well, good for you. You can’t have too much love in your life, honey. You ready to see them?”

  Mia nodded and sat up, then pushed her hair behind her ears. “How do I look?” She knew her face was bruised and pale and stitched together, and there was dried blood in her hair.

  The woman smiled down at her, then turned and pulled the curtain open. “Honey, you look beautiful.”

  ALLIGATORS & ORGASMS

  Sandy: I’m sure I love him. I’m just not sure I trust him. I mean, of course, I love him. I’ve loved him since I was fourteen and he dribbled that basketball over to my end of the court. He grinned at me, his blond hair fell into his eyes, and I was gone. We were wearing matching Converse All-Stars and he let me steal the ball.

  I’m not fourteen anymore, I’m twenty-eight. And here’s the thing. I’ve let him break my heart twice already. Does he think I’m going to let him go for three? He actually said the past was finito. Finito? Finito for whom?

  Oh, right. He’s a man. Of course he thinks I’ve forgotten. After all, he has.

  * * * * *

  David: She is the most fragile of flowers, delicate and easily hurt. I have spent my whole life trying to protect her from harm. Mostly I had to protect her from me, from my uncontrollable animal lust. From the time we were fourteen, I’ve been ready to take her anytime, anywhere, on a bed, in the backseat, on a basketball court, bent over a chair. I actually tried once up against a chain-link fence ... never mind.

  It was so bad I got a hard-on once looking at dandelions growing in the grass under her bedroom window. To this very day dandelions make my dick so hard I’m embarrassed to be out in public.

  So what I’m saying is I know her intimately. I know her on a cellular level. That’s why I’m absolutely sure something has happened. Something freaking bad. Something that’s keeping her from having orgasms.

  * * * * *

  Sandy: “David, what are you doing down there?” I was propped up against the headboard with a couple of pillows. He was nose first between my legs. “It’s kind of creepy the way your face is just right there, like one inch away, but you’re not doing anything.”

  “I am doing something,” he said. “I’m looking at you.”

  “I’ve had pelvic exams that went faster than this.”

  “But the nurse doing the exam wasn’t looking at you with the eyes of love.”

  “Oh, please. Spare me.” He was going to start into flower metaphors any minute. The weird thing was I think he really meant it.

  “You know, baby, I think your pussy is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, such pretty little hairs, such full, pouting lips.” He traced a finger down my length and opened me up. “And inside you’re this awesome deep rose, all dewy soft.” I felt really annoyed that I could feel myself getting wet at his touch. What I really wanted to do was crush his skull between my thighs.

  “Cut the chatter and get down to business,” I ordered.

  He didn’t speak, just slid a couple of fingers into me and sucked my clitoris into his mouth. He laved it with his tongue, and I grabbed a pillow and shoved it over my face to keep from screaming. Oh, God, he was the best, hands down, no competition. I was on the roller coaster, going up, up, up, almost there, almost to the top ... Then my little car just stopped. No screaming freaking plunge into erotic bliss. Nothing. Something just clicked off.

  I was not in any sort of mood to be nagged by this man. So I threw myself around a little, pumped my hips against his Grecian nose, panted and moaned. The usual.

  * * * * *

  David: Did she really think she could fake it with me? It wasn’t even a world-class fake either, just a few half-hearted yips and grunts. I studied her beautiful pussy. I could feel it speaking to me. “$$Help, David,@@” it said. “$$Help me@@!” Aching, wet, yearning, helpless, and completely unfulfilled.

  She didn’t know this unless she had ever masturbated with a mirror and a light, but when she had an orgasm, her pussy flushed with this beautiful bright red color for a few minutes. Her sweet little nub actually swelled and poked out of its hood, just for a second. But the thing I really couldn’t miss was the way the walls of her vagina started contracting madly around my hungry dick. If it was a good one for her, she could squeeze me so tight ... Well, let’s just say if she can’t come, I can’t come.

  Well, I can, but it ain’t the same thing. My hand is a Happy Meal, and she is filet mignon. Or crab legs, if you like seafood.

  I sat up and removed a golden pubic hair from my tongue. “Sandy,” I said. “How long has this been going on?”

  “What?” she said, climbing out of bed and refusing to meet my eyes.

  “When was the last time you had an orgasm?”

  “Three minutes ago?”

  “Bullshit. You think I don’t know you’re faking?”

  She slipped on a pair of pink bikini underpants and turned to face me, her hands on her hips. She was Amazonian. “Just drop it, okay?” She actually didn’t look delicate or fragile just then. She looked pissed off and sort of tough, like given a chance she would kick my ass.

  * * * * *

  Sandy: I was ready to kick his ass. So my pussy was the most beautiful he had ever seen? Out of how many? Dozens? Hundreds? Infinity? I took a deep breath and pulled a T-shirt out of the dresser. It was from Big Bend National Park. Across the front was a giant bootprint, with the legend TAKE A HIKE.

  He threw up both hands in surrender and went into the shower. In the kitchen I started tearing lettuce for a salad. How could men have such convenient memories? It was freaky, like something out of Orwell’s 1984.

  He had been my first boyfriend, and after months of making out on the bright blue fake-fur lounge chair in my parent’s basement, my first lover. Two weeks later he broke up with me and started going with Dorothy. Word among the girls was that she was giving blow-jobs to the jocks in the hopes of finding one desperate enough to give her a letter jacket. I guess it was true. He walked around the whole senior year with a massive hard-on, and she walked around wearing his letter jacket over her shoulders.

  He said he didn’t want to hurt me. Bullshit! This was really the most clear cause-and-effect situation I had ever encountered. a) Either he slept with me and I wasn’t quite up to scratch so he dumped me, or b) he was only going with me until he got me naked. Then he dumped me. Either way I was used, abused, and heartbroken.

  I pulled out some tomatoes and hacked them to pieces. Get a grip, I ordered myself. You can’t deal with the past, then let him go. But don’t keep beating the man over the head with it. He’s not in high school anymore. Look, do you want him? The man who broke your heart before? The man who treats you like the sun rises and sets in your eyes? Yes, you do.

  * * * * *

  David: I lathered up with some flowery smelling pink soap and rubbed sunflower and grapefruit shampoo into my hair. Where does she get this stuff? I stroked my poor boy with a soapy hand, but he just drooped sadly between my legs, wouldn’t look up, ignored my hand and the sweet-smelling bubbles.

  “Fine,” I said. “It’s not manly to throw a fit. It’s not the man’s way to pout when you don’t get your little head d
renched in honey. Get over it. You want your beautiful lady? Even when she’s a little crankier than she used to be? Yes, we do. So then we better find out what’s wrong, don’t you think?” I lifted him up and looked at him. “Don’t worry, buddy. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was probably me.”

  I spent a little time on the Internet while she cooked spaghetti with white clam sauce and pretended nothing had happened. Female Sexual Dysfunction. Hmmm. Let’s check out symptoms first. Holy Shit! 40% of women have sexual dysfunction at any one time! Symptoms can include not being in the mood, trouble becoming aroused, pain during intercourse or masturbation, or difficulty with orgasms. Yep, looks like we’ve got a winner!

  Okay, determine if the difficulty is global or specific. I leaned over and looked into the kitchen. She was chopping something hard, thwacking that butcher knife down on the cutting board in a way that looked personal, and may have been therapeutic. I had better not interrupt. Medical conditions, diabetes, yeast infections, hormone imbalance, some antidepressants. Nothing there, but maybe we could get one of those blood-sugar tests in the drug store.

  Okay, what else? Problems with body image, gender roles, power imbalance in the primary relationship, and unresolved anger at the partner. Sounds like psychobabble to me. Let’s just ask her.

  * * * * *

  Sandy: We were both on our best behavior at dinner. He was charming and funny and gave me his undivided attention. David had warm, golden-brown eyes I had always loved and sun-streaked blond hair. He looked like you might pass him on a hiking trail in one of the National Parks. And you might, he was a park ranger.

  He had always looked at me with love, always. That’s why I always gave him another chance. Based on the evidence of his eyes, he had always loved me. Based on his behavior, however ... Never mind! I wasn’t going there.