Apodion.net

I dreamed this story last night.

I leaned in close and touched her on the shoulder. She raised her head, looked at me, and smiled.

“Say now, Claire, my turtledove, what do you say you and me take a trip down to Atlantic City?”

Already her attention was wavering. “Aw, no Jimmy, can’t do that it’s no good, I’m sleepy” She sank back into her dreams of whatever half a dozen different kinds of junk were floating through her system just then. I stood around for a second.

“Well, ok, my love, what do you say then, can I take Beula out for a little while?”

She smiled in her sickness and sleep and pulled her imaginary lover closer to her. “You’re a nice boy, Jimmy, you know that.”

I reached down and slipped my hand under her ass—that ass, when I got here, it was like Mecca to me, I nearly had it framed and hanging above my bed, now it wasn’t worth a dime but even still I felt a rush of the old pure perfect love and I thought about staying; maybe I could take her somewhere cool and dark and we could wrap ourselves in ratty blankets, and smile for each other. But I remembered The Dago, and how he left, just like that, like a Buddha, and I knew that this was how it had to be. I took the single key from her garter, and I wasn’t even too graceful about it.

I placed my lips on hers—gently, because you can always spare a little tenderness for the sleeping and the seriously fucked—and by some reflex she rose up to meet them. I touched her cheek and walked straight out the door, out back, to my waiting Beula.

Jimmy, he’s a nice guy, everyone knows that. He had a thing for me, but I can’t mess around with no boys. Not mess around, I mean, not—you know, not like going steady or anything. I’m too young for alla that. I let ‘em kiss me, but you know: you got a getaway car, you’ve always got a getaway.

My head cleared up mighty quick—I ran out back, right onto the gravel, in my stockings even, but I knew he weren’t there. Aw, Jimmy! I put my hand to my lips—they were warm and damp where he kissed me, I remember he kissed me, I thought, “He’s awful sweet,”—but he was far gone. I started to shiver; I wished I had a jacket, and I could swear for a second that I saw my Beula, in the distance, winking at me like an old lover.