American Chordata: Magazine of New Writing Issue One, Spring 2015 | Page 120

102
FICTION

doing an interview on TV, don’t you want to see, she’s a legend. I
knew she just wanted to make sure we weren’t “doing anything.”
“Could you be any more selfish?” she said. “I took off work to
spend every single day with you. What if something happened? Do
those hippies even believe in hospitals? Or are all of their problems
solved with yoga and good vibes?”
“Fine,” I said. “Never mind.”
The air in my bedroom smelled like my own bad breath. I turned
on the television and watched Island Infidelity, a show where they
send three couples to a tropical resort and tempt them with sexy
singles.
“U coming or not?” Jack messaged.
“My mom won’t let me,” I wrote.
“Ur mom is emotional and selfish. She believes everything u
want is a threat to her, which is not fair for u. Sneak out. I’ll come
get u.”
On television, one of the couples was making out in a hot tub,
and I felt a spike of lust shoot through me. “OK,” I said. “Come
get me.”
When Jack’s white station wagon appeared across the street, it was
so expected and so familiar I felt I had planted it with my mind.
Under the soft streetlight, Jack was as handsome as ever. He wore
his hair combed behind his ears, a t-shirt that clung to his abs, and
some baggy shorts. As I crept down the hall, I could hear my mother
snoring. Outside, the air was warm and wet, and my refrigerated
skin felt cool against it. I ran up to Jack and threw my arms around
his neck. With my swollen cheeks, I couldn’t kiss him. I pressed my
lips against his face and made a smacking sound with my tongue.
“You’re just as beautiful as ever,” he said.
My lips curled painfully—I couldn’t help it—and revealed my
metal smile.
As we drove up Route 50, we fell into pace with the night drivers, people who liked to speed once they were out of the main
streets. Jack floored it and I felt my neck tighten. Shopping centers