My husband’s granddaddy felled the bear upon the rangy earth of Wyoming—the grassy compass back of that American square, a spread-wide book of glory. I flirt with Granddaddy for the memory, the bearskin rug. I tap the bear’s teeth and feel my fingernails echo. I stare into its nothing glassy-black eyes. I give the bear a Scottish accent. I am listening to an audiobook read by a man with a Scottish accent; the cadence of his voice is fuzzy paper crumpling and crumpling and smoothing out again. I take the rug home and lose my clothes, crawl naked under the hairy heft of it. Imagine the Scottish accent saying I am a bear too. You are. A female bear is called a sow. A group of bears is called a sleuth. I wait—stilly as the dead bear’s heart—for my husband to come home from work. When he finds me, I growl. I grunt and howl like Tom Waits. He loves Tom Waits. My husband pets the stiff black hair on the bear’s head. This is making up. You have a devastating personality, Dolly. Absolutely crushing, he says to me, deepening his dimples. I rise like the moon and open my slick strawberry mouth.
All That Smoke Howling Blue
The first thing Bo ever said to me was that I had a face like an alarm clock—resplendent enough to wake him up. He and his younger brother, Cash, ran a garage on the shitty side of town. My car was always busted. That’s how we met.
Since then, I’d been living with both of them—driving Bo’s old truck whenever I wanted and kissing Cash when Bo was at work. Bo knew about the kissing, I just didn’t do it in front of him. I slept in Bo’s bed most nights unless he really pissed me off. I loved them both equally. I used to make a peanut butter and jelly joke about it, but no one understood what I meant. Bo kept his shoulder-length hair slicked back and Cash kept his short. See? They were different.
Bo had been teaching the blue-eyed shepherd puppy to howl and that’s what they were both doing—sitting on the floor, howling at the ceiling. Bo was picking leftover bits of tobacco from his tongue and I reminded him again that he shouldn’t smoke in the house. My hair was scented with woodsmoke from the fire we made out back the night before. Bo stood and put his nose on my neck and sniffed me real good. I was at the stove stirring the baked beans.
“Mercy,” he said. Soft. It was the name my mama had given me and he said it a lot. It made me feel special how it got both meanings coming from his mouth. My name, a begging blue prayer. We kissed. Bo’s kisses were feathery, Christmas-sweet. Cash hungry-kissed like a soldier on leave.
Bo stuck the puppy underneath his arm and stepped outside. I watched the puppy through the screen, howling up at the sky. The puppy was licking Bo’s face.
Cash came through the front door and gently kicked my boots aside to make a path.
“I thought it was my night to make dinner,” he said, clinking a six-pack on the kitchen counter.
“You can tomorrow. I made fried chicken, potatoes and baked beans. Biscuits are in the oven. I got Bo to open the can since it scares me so bad when it pops,” I said.
“Well, at least he’s good for something, right?” Cash said, barely laughing.
“He’s out back teaching the puppy to be an asshole,” I said, pointing with the wooden spoon, careful not to drip.
“Will you cut my hair tonight?” Cash asked, taking off his ball cap and opening a beer.
“Why? You got a crush on some girl you want to look cute for?” I asked.
“Yep. Some girl named Mercy,” he said, smiling. I twinkled.
The sunset light ached at the windows. The puppy let out a brushy itty-bitty howl that went on forever. It kept right on crackling. I’m telling you, I thought it’d never stop.
Pink Bubblegum and Flowers
Sweet-sticky pink bubblegum in my mouth, blowing bubbles. Bored, peeking on the guys Dad paid to come over to rebuild the deck. My little brothers were in the living room playing some video game that made it sound like a spaceship was hovering over our house, waiting. I was home one more week for the summer before I went back to college four hours away. I had friends, close girlfriends, but none of them were around. Bored, peeking on the one guy especially. The youngest-looking one, maybe he was twenty-one. Barely. I put on eyeliner and shiny red lipgloss, went out there and asked if they needed anything.
The guy in charge, the one with the beard and mirrored sunglasses, the pencil behind his ear, introduced himself to me. Gary Something. There were four of them. Gary Something and Trevor No Last Name and Pete No Last Name and the only one I cared about was Jordan. Helloooo, Jordan. Jordan looked like he belonged in a movie about the young guy who comes to work on the housewife’s house when the husband is away and Jordan ends up having sex with the housewife in the kitchen while the teapot screams and sizzle-boils over. Jordan was sweaty and shirtless. He literally glistened. I was obsessed with Jordan. That quick. It only took an hour. I hadn’t been obsessed with anyone since Rafael and that was a couple months ago. He texted me sometimes but bored bored bored.
I’d texted him that earlier in the day.
bored bored bord
I didn’t even apologize for the misspelling. He never wrote me back.
Jordan slipped his shirt on as he walked over to me. Sad face.
“Hi. Sorry. Hope we’re not being too loud,” he said.
I didn’t know anything about Jordan except:
He had a white truck.
He had a white shirt.
He had jeans and boots. Probably socks, too.
His name was Jordan.
He worked with these other dudes.
His water bottle was blue.
He had some tools. Or someone let him use their tools.
I stood there looking at him, annoyed at myself for still having that wad of gum in my mouth. It was giving me a headache and it wasn’t even sweet anymore. I took it out and tossed it in the trash bag the guys were using.
“Yeah, my dad said it would be loud. The hammering and sawing or whatever. Annoying,” I said. I wasn’t really annoyed, but I wanted Jordan to think I was. I wanted him to think I hated him for at least a split second.
“My bad. I mean, it kind of has to be loud. Circular saws are loud. That’s what they do.”
“Wow, mansplaining saws and sounds to me?” I said.
“Damn. Sorry,” he said, smiling and laughing like we were old buds.
I gave him a thumbs-down.
He gave me a thumbs-up. I finally smiled at him, but only barely.
“So, yes or no. Did y’all need anything?” I asked them. I looked around Jordan at the other guys.
“No thanks! We’ll let you know,” Gary Something said. Gary was probably Jordan’s dad. He looked enough like Jordan.
Jordan took his shirt off again. He’d only put it on to talk to me.
I went inside.
* * *
My brothers were still playing their video game. They were old enough to make their own lunch, but I asked them what they wanted since I was in the kitchen anyway. I could see the guys working on the deck from the kitchen window. I would sneak and look when I was sure they couldn’t see me. I didn’t want Jordan to see me watching him. I didn’t know the guy and he could be a serial killer, a rapist, one of those guys who dragged women back to his cave by their hair.
“Pizza or mac and cheese, little turds?” I asked my brothers, turning my back to the sink. I imagined Jordan catching a glimpse of my shoulders, the straight-up rock bone stacks of my spine.
“Pizza!” Angel said.
“Mac and cheese!” Aidan said.
“Not both! One!” I said, stepping into the living room. I imagined Jordan leaning over, pressing his hot mouth to the kitchen window glass before I walked away, catching a glimpse of my twenty-year-old apple ass.
“Chloe, move!” Angel said, fanning his arm from side to side. I was standing in front of the TV.
“Put the mac and cheese on the pizza please,” Aidan said. He was the peacekeeper, the most rational one.
“Fine,” I said.
* * *
I put a frozen pizza into the oven and put a pot of wat
er for mac and cheese on the stove. While I waited, I went through the messages on my phone. Rafael had texted me back.
Hey. Wyd?
making mac and cheese pizza for my brothers
You still bored?
there’s this hot guy working on my deck
So…you’re not bored anymore?
idk why?
I could come over?
you’re in town?
For a little bit.
ok sure
See you in like 20 mins.
The water was close to bubbling and I put the noodles in. I told the boys to listen for the pizza timer. I told them I was taking a quick shower. I told them Rafael was coming over. They nodded and kept playing their game. I told them to pause it.
“If you don’t take the pizza out when the timer goes off, it’ll burn. You understand what I’m saying? I don’t trust you two,” I said, stabbing at them with two fingers.
“Chloe, we’re ten and twelve. Not two,” Angel said.
“Then act like it,” I said, flipping them off.
Angel flashed his middle finger at me.
“Okay,” Aidan said, before unpausing the game.
* * *
I showered, washed and conditioned my hair using my mom’s expensive shampoo and Chanel body wash. I thought about Rafael putting his hands on me. I thought about Jordan putting his hands on me. I thought about Rafael and Jordan putting their hands on me at the same time. I was so thankful I didn’t see smoke or smell anything burning when I walked out of the bathroom, the shower steam following me like a little Winnie-the-Pooh rain cloud. I smelled so good. I pressed my nose to my wrists and breathed in in in in in.
I would keep my hair up in a towel until Rafael got there. I wanted him to know I took a shower because he was coming over. I wanted Jordan to maybe see me too. I didn’t care about the other guys working on the deck. The boys had followed my directions with the pizza and the pasta for the mac and cheese was done. I put on clothes, left my hair up, drained the pasta, squeezed the packet of cheesy sauce over it, and told my brothers to come and get it. My house was full of and surrounded by boys, there was a boy coming over. I needed to text my mom, I needed to talk to a woman.
i need to bleed. it’s time to start my period. i’m so cranky.
You’re not pregnant? LOL right? ;)
mama no! IMPOSSIBLE RIGHT NOW. are y’all having a good time?
My parents were on a Love Weekend in Cincinnati. That’s what they called it. Every year, they went away for two days at the end of summer.
Yes we are. The deck guys are doing fine? No creeps?
My mom always liked to ask no creeps whenever I was around any men.
no creeps. they’re nice. one’s cute.
LOL. Text or call anytime you need to. The boys ok?
the boys are fine. i made them mac and cheese pizza.
You’re a sweet sister. Love y’all.
love y’all too.
I didn’t tell her Rafael was coming over because I didn’t know what it meant yet. I didn’t know what it meant when Rafael showed up at the front door either. I stepped out on the porch as I held the door open for him and saw Jordan going into the back of his truck for something. He looked up at me. I made quick eye contact with him before I went back inside.
“So, what are they doing?” Rafael asked, leaning toward the kitchen sink to get a better look out of the window. He did this after he’d said hey to my brothers and talked to them about the video game. He’d said he’d gotten it recently too. Apparently every dude in the world was obsessed with this video game and guys always tried to make it seem like girls were the silly ones. Annoying.
“Building a new deck,” I said, like it was the most obvious thing.
“Is that you?” Rafael asked, turning toward me.
“Is that me, what?”
“That smells like pink bubblegum and flowers?” He leaned forward and put his nose on my neck, inhaled.
I giggled a little and took my hair down from the towel.
“I guess,” I said, heading toward the hallway, the bathroom. Rafael followed me.
* * *
I met Rafael at college but Rafael and I were from the same town. We didn’t know it until we got to college. Rafael had half dated a girl on my floor I didn’t know and she gave me the stink eye when Rafael started coming to my room instead of hers. She felt like she owned him and I did too. Something about Rafael made me feel like he belonged to me and only me, even though he was never my boyfriend. We’d never had full-on sex. He’d gone down on me once after a party and one other time I gave him a blowjob in his car. I liked thinking about both those nights a week apart, before the spring weather showed up. We’d been together in our own way from around Christmas until after Valentine’s Day when he gave me some roses and a bottle of champagne and gave the same gift to another girl too. I knew because she told me and even though I “broke up” with him because I was embarrassed about it, I stayed obsessed with him and we kissed at parties sometimes, but never went any further than that again. He never told me to stop texting him or to leave him alone. Even when I’d text him late at night, even when I’d write him boring texts about how bored I was or how I didn’t have very many friends left in town anymore. How I was working at the coffee shop up the road, but didn’t want to be a barista every summer. He didn’t want to be anyone’s boyfriend, but in a way he was everyone’s boyfriend because he never told girls no. Rafael was a yes-man.
His mother was black and Puerto Rican, his dad was some country white dude. Rafael had this beautiful black hair that could swoop down over his eye like a feather, like a God-touched thing. He wore skinny gray pants and his thin patterned shirts unbuttoned. His style waffled between rock star and just crawled out of a dumpster after a long night of drinking, but he made it work. And I liked them both.
* * *
“You smell so good,” Rafael said, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door.
I was putting my leave-in conditioner in my hair and the bathroom was still heavy with Chanel and pink. I was a deep, thick, fecund garden. Rafael had his nose up in the air, sniffing like a dog.
“I didn’t know you were coming back home,” I said, knowing how bad he wanted me, because I wanted him that bad too. I thought of Jordan out back and what he wondered about Rafael and me here in the house. If he imagined Rafael touching me in here. Even if Jordan was like the best guy ever he would think about it for at least a second. It wasn’t even all that pervy. It wasn’t like I was underage. He wouldn’t have to be a creep or anything.
Rafa met my eyes in the mirror. That’s what the girls called him sometimes. Rafa. I’d heard his buddies call him that too. And maybe his brothers. He had two brothers, like me. I’d met them both when they came to pick him up at school for Christmas. I watched them load up his brother’s car from my dorm room window. Watched Rafa tie his hair back with a red bandanna and share a can of beer with his little brother before they took off and tossed it in the recycling bin by the front door. He was responsible, how hot. Most guys would’ve tossed the can on the ground or in the trash. Rafa was a recycling hero.
“Do you want to know why I came back home?” he asked.
“Do you want to tell me why you came back home?” I asked, scrunching my wet curls with my slippery fingers.
“I had to testify against my dad for…hurting my mom. Me…and my brothers had to,” he said. Softly. He wasn’t looking at me in the mirror anymore, he was looking down. I gasped and turned around.
“What?!”
Rafa pressed his index finger against the wood of the door frame like he was purposely leaving evidence for someone to find later. Rafa was here.
“It smells exactly like pink bubblegum and flowers in here. It’s like…calming me down,” he said. And as soon as he said it, my brothers whooped and hollered from the living room. I heard one of them go into the kitchen, open the fridge, close it again. Someone out back turned on the circular
saw, but not for long. They hammered and hammered and hammered. They were listening to Tom Petty and I could hear it too. Wildflowers. I loved that album, that song. It reminded me of my dad and being a little girl. Rafa was right. The smell was so calming and Petty’s voice was gentle and calming, too.
But! We were talking about something awful and when I remembered, my legs got kind of wobbly and hot.
“Are you okay?” I asked. I didn’t know how many people he’d told about this. I didn’t know how many other girls he’d told about this. I hoped none. I hoped he was telling me first and telling me only. I wanted this to be something we shared, something we bonded over. His secrets were better than sex.
Rafa met my eyes again and it felt like we were alone in the house together. Like everyone else had been raptured up. The heat, the perfume, the steam, all of it—hypnotizing us. I gently tugged on his shirt so he’d come all the way into the bathroom and I closed the door. The Tom Petty seemed to get louder and my eyes were tearing up. My hair was cold on my neck. I sat on the lid of the toilet. Rafa sat on the floor with his back against the door and told me everything.
* * *
He told me his parents were going through a catastrophically messy divorce and how his dad hadn’t been violent with his mom or him and his brothers growing up, but in the last couple years he seemed to lose…something. Or gain…something. Rafa didn’t know which one it was. And when Rafa was home for spring break his mom and dad got in a huge fight and his dad grabbed his mom’s arm and he slapped her hard across the face. His mom called the police and Rafa and his brothers jumped on his dad and beat him up. The cops who came knew his mom well from working security at the grocery store where she was manager and the cops wouldn’t press charges against Rafa or his brothers. They threw his dad in jail. And the cops needed Rafa and his brothers to come down and make some more statements about what happened that night, so Rafa and his brothers did it. His dad was going to have to do some real jail time. Like, six months or maybe even a year. Which didn’t seem like enough to me after hearing Rafa describe it, after seeing Rafa’s face as he told the story.
So We Can Glow Page 6