Posts Tagged ‘Acid’

Apple Cider Vinegar

March 27, 2018

For the win!

Who the fuck knew?

I didn’t.

I had no clue.

But.

I was up for trying anything and so last night after doing some more internet research on foods to not eat, I thought, hmm, what about foods I should eat.

And there it was.

A huge amount of information about things that are helpful, including, apple cider vinegar.

Having tried all sorts of over the counter meds and this prescription that I’ve been taking now for over three months, I thought, why not try it.

It was a fucking Christmas miracle.

I cannot even begin to describe the intense relief I got almost immediately.

Relief which lasted through the night, giving me one of the better nights of sleep I’ve had in weeks.

Although it wasn’t long enough, I had to be up early for supervision before work, it was restful and I didn’t lie there in agony trying to fall asleep.

I mean.

Sure.

My brain kept me busy for a while with travel plans and graduation plans and things that need to be done, but I wasn’t in pain.

Just marveling at that it took a minute or two to drift off.

But.

Oh.

When I did.

It was such nice, deep, restful sleep.

Hopefully I will have another night like that.

Especially as I just had some more of the apple cider vinegar.

The reflux began to kick in at the end of my first client and was in full riot gear by the time I was finished with my second client.

I chewed sugar-free bubble gum on the way home to take the bite off it, but I felt pretty sore and tired and a bit head achy from it.

The reflux simmered down immediately upon taking the vinegar.

I still have a touch of a headache, but I’m hoping that too shall pass.

Especially since I have had some dinner.

I notice the reflux too when I don’t have much food in my stomach.

Which is apparently the opposite of what usually happens, most folks get it on an over full stomach.

My stomach is not really full.

I usually eat dinner after I get home from my clients, which makes dinner fairly late, tonight is was around 9p.m.

You could say I’m practicing for being in Paris, where dinner is often quite late.

My friend messaged me this morning as I was getting ready to go to supervision about my trip over.

She relayed to me that she will have more time than she originally thought she would, although it does look like the family will be gone for a weekend to Hungary for a wedding.

“You could come, or you can stay in Paris.”

I opted for stay in Paris.

I’m not sure of the exact dates for their trip, but if it’s a weekend thing that would be the 20-22nd.

I think.

Which is fine.

I have plenty of experience being on my own in Paris.

I’ll have their home to be my base and I can spend time wandering around.

I’ll do much walking in the Marais, I am very sure of that, since that’s where they live, on Rue de Temple.

It’s nice to think about travel plans.

It’s nice to think about graduation plans.

Those will come first, since that’s the order of things.

Graduate.

New York.

Paris.

Start PhD program.

I feel like I am actually going to have a real summer vacation.

New York at the end of June and Paris in mid-July.

I am going to get to experience some warm weather, some sun dresses, some sandals, hair up off my neck, bare skin, warm nights.

Sigh.

I love summertime weather.

And I don’t get that much of it out here in the Outer Sunset.

It does happen though.

And when it does one fervently, or I should just say I, hope that no one in the other parts of the city know that it’s nice at the beach.

I have a friend who lives in the Mission and will literally text me to ask how the weather is out at the beach.

Just because it’s sunny in the Mission does not mean sunny in the Sunset.

But when it is, wow, it’s spectacular.

My life feels pretty spectacular when I take a step back, even now, even with the constant reflux stuff happening.

I’m soldiering through it and learning to do even more self-care.

God.

I am just constantly learning.

There is no end to it.

I am also.

Speaking of learning.

Thinking about starting a new blog.

Yes.

I did say that.

I happened to be thinking about it last night, amongst a few other tantalizing things in regards to my upcoming travel, about starting a blog specifically for my clients.

A way of giving back some of what I learn and practice.

Part of our Integrative Seminar at school is to have website, it’s an option instead of doing the 30 page paper, blogs were noted as a great tool to connect to clients.

And.

Well.

I like to blog.

I would have to tailor it to fit a different audience.

But I think I would like to try to since it won’t be so much about my own personal, daily process, and since it will be aimed out towards the public, I think I will go live with it on social media.

I’m staying the fuck off of Twitter.

Fuck you Twitter.

I’m not really out there with my politics, but fuck you, I won’t ever use your platform again.

Anyway.

Not that facecrack is much better, but I can put it out there and see if there’s a decent response or feedback as well as hooking to my Instagram.

I may also start a second Instagram account that is client focused and centered, rather than on me and my selfies.

Thoughts.

Things to explore.

And grateful to get to explore them with a modicum of relief from the reflux.

Go apple cider vinegar go!

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Baby Girl–Chapter Nine–Window Pane

May 18, 2011

Window Pane


I woke up hot.  It was swampy, steamy, hot; the sweat pooled across the backs of my knees, there was actually sweat pooling in the crevasses of my ankle bones.  It was a Saturday; weekend was here.  Billy had decided that we were taking a holiday to the Everglades then he had a surprise for us when we got back to the Lake that he hinted at with much glee but would not divulge.  I was not up for a trip to the Everglades, but once Billy had an idea about something there really was no changing his mind.

“Baby Girl,” he said, nuzzling my neck, “it’s time you woke up.”

He started biting at my neck and ear; I reached back and pushed his head away.  His breath and his mouth were too hot on my skin.  He ignored me and grabbed me around my waist, flipping me over him. He tried to kiss me with his rough stubble face, but I struggled away.  I could feel his cock, ever-present and hard, pushing stubbornly and urgently against the small of my back.  He rubbed against me, rolling me over again across the bed.  I kept my face buried in the pillow and continue to squirm away from his humid morning breath kisses.

“Jaysus!”  Leon exclaimed.   “Ain’t y’all tired of it yet?  All you ever do is go at it, y’all kept me up half the freakin’ night with it,” he rolled up on his elbow in his bed on the opposite side of the camper and smirked.  “Billy, oh God, oh Billy.”  Leon sprang up from his bed, reached his hands up over his head and stretched his skinny body out.  He sighed then bent to riffle through the dirty pile of clothes at the foot of his bed.  He yanked out a pair of roof tar stained jeans, sniffed at them, then pulled them on.  “Sheesh! what the holy hell does a man have to do to get a decent nights sleep round here?”

Leon stepped into a pair of dusty work boots while pulling a once white t-shirt over his torso and headed out the screened in portion of the camper.  Billy and I had taken to pulling our mattress out from the camper into the tented area in front, it was cooler and gave the semblance of privacy.  Yet Leon was a scant five feet away in the camper and Elliot equidistant in his hooch.

“Billy, ooh, Billy, ooh God, oh, Billy,” mocked Leon again from the other side of the screen.  He cleared his throat and spat an oyster of phlegm into the dust. “Kee-rist,” he continued, “I don’t know nobody that makes as much noise as you do, girl.”  Leon rifled around in his jean pocket and pulled a crumpled pack of Doral filters out.  He lit up his first cigarette of the day and rolled his head back with the pleasure of his first inhalation of the day.

“Fuck, you know the whole damn Lake knows you two be knockin’ boots.”  Leon said as he reached down into the red Coleman cooler and pulled out a 20-oz bottle of Mountain Dew.  He twisted off the cap and drank the entire soda in one swallow, then he belched long and loud and wiped the sides of his mouth.

“Damn straight,” said Billy to Leon with a wide grin. “my old lady likes gettin’ satisfied,” he slapped my ass.  “Toss me a Dew.”

“ Billy, ow, knock it off,” I said.  I turned my face up to him, finally looking into his eyes.  “Sometimes you hit harder than you think you do,” I added reproachfully under my breath.

Over the last weeks I had become covered in odd bruises, hickies, bite marks, scratches.  My hips where dimpled with small bruises, some faded green yellow, others fresh black plum.  My nipples were two shades darker than their normal color from his constant attention to them.  My skin was often so tender and chafed I could not wear a bra without gasping from the rasp of the fabric on my skin.

“Heh, heh, heh,” Billy said chuckling down at me, stroking the underside of my chin with his large calloused thumb, “you know you like it rough, Baby Girl.  I don’t know anyone that can take it like a woman the way you do.  Never had me a woman before that took it like you do.”  His blue eyes gleamed darkly at me.

“Oh, honestly, enough,” I said pushing his hand off my face.  I struggled up, pulling a sheet up around my body.  Billy tried to tug me back down onto the bed, but in bright daylight I could not as easily push away the realization that Leon and Elliot where so close.  I got up and disappeared momentarily into the dim interior of the camper and put on my swimsuit.

I walked down to the pier leaving Billy and Leon to their morning sodas and smokes.  Elliot was at the end of the dock.  He was wearing cut-off jeans and boots, nothing else.  My breath tangled in my throat.  He was casting a fishing pole out into the flat blue water and slowly reeling it back in toward him.  I stood hesitating at the head of the pier watching the sun play on his back as he cast and recast the line.

“Hittin’ ‘em hard,” I said, finally walking down toward him.

“Nah,” he replied without turning to face me, “you know, it’s just relaxing.  I didn’t much sleep last night.  I imagine you didn’t either,” he turned his head and peered back at me with a sharp look.

“Elliot,” I said in a voice soft with mortification.

“What?”

I stood shifting from one foot to the other, the wood of the pier already hot under foot.  I opened my mouth to say something sharp and caustic, but nothing came out.  I had no reply.  He turned back and cast the rod out again.  The red and white lure bobbed gently on top the surface of the lake, then sank quickly, before re-appearing with a quick popping sound, like the sound of a thumb being pulled from the inside of a cheek.

“What is up with all the noise, anyway, Martines,” he said, “you practicing for the opera in there?  There a try out for The  Barber of Seville or something, or a traveling version of white trash Carmen coming to town that you want to be part of?”  He said all of this without once changing the tone of his voice or stopping from reeling in the fishing line.

“Fuck you Elliot.”

“No,” he said, “I actually really want to know.”  And maybe he did.  Maybe he really did, his shoulders tightened and hunched for a moment.  Then he sighed, set down the fishing pole and turned around to look at me.

“I don’t know,” I said my toes curling underneath me I had walked over to the left side of the pier and stood with my feet just turned over the edge.  I looked down into the water.

“I don’t know,” I said again, “it’s just, well, it’s just hard not to make noise.” My face felt too flush, the sun was too hot, my stomach too empty for this line of conversation.  “Do you mind if we change the subject?”  I suddenly, desperately wanted to be back at the camper having a cigarette and a soda with Billy and Leon.

“Fine,” said Elliot, “but I’ve got one last question for you before we do—do you even enjoy it?”

“What?”  I looked up at him startled, this coming from my friend who was too shy to enjoy a lap dance at a strip club.

“Are you, you know, achieving orgasm?  Are you even coming?”  His face started to blush, it was a furious mortified red underneath his dark tan.

My mouth dropped.  I lowered my head, my hair shifted across my eyes, I started to speak, but there was a sparkling glitter of haze hardening over my heart.

“No, never mind” he said.  “You don’t need to say anything, let me just say this though, Carmen, it doesn’t sound like you like it at all.”

He turned completely toward me.  His eyes were hidden behind the glare of the sun striking his glasses, hard diamond points of light.  Both hands were gripped tightly around the pole, I could see a slight vibration of tension running along it.  I could almost feel the lash of the line on my arm, I could imagine the hook being pulled through my cheek.

“What do you mean, Elliot,” I asked carefully, slowly, keeping the words even, “of course I like it, I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t.”

“Bullshit,” he said softly.

“Elliot,” I said with a waver in my voice.

“Unh, unh,” he said, shaking his head at me.  “It does not sound like you are ever happy or easy with him, you sound fake and restaurant hostess cheerful.  You don’t sound like you.”  He paused and with a quiet emphasis said firmly, “you certainly did not sound like that when we were together.”

I stood aghast.  I couldn’t seem to keep my mouth closed.  The words all lay like dead bait in my mouth.

“Remember when we kissed,” he continued, his voice softening with gentle nostalgia, “like it could have gone on forever?  That afternoon, you know which one, when we kissed for hours? Remember that day?  You joked about us entering the Guinness Book of World Records for the longest kiss.  Carmen, you’re noisy, it’s not that I don’t know that you’re not, it’s just, it’s different.  Shit, I remember when you were hooking up with John.  You almost got him kicked out of the dorms for having an overnight guest, every one knew you were there.”

He paused, hands agitating on the fishing pole. “It’s just well, you sound like you’re in pain, that’s all.”  He stared at me silently for a moment and then turned away and set the pole down on the pier.

“Well, Elliot,” I said with tears standing in my eyes, “if you must know, some types of sex are more pleasurable to the other party, but I don’t see how that’s any of your goddamn business.”  I blinked furiously, I was not going to shed tears in front of him.  I was not.  My hands clenched into tight fists.  I tried to catch my breath and calm down.

“You make it my business, Carmen, you make it the whole Lake’s fucking business.  I’m not the only one being kept up at night listening to you sob.”

“You asshole,” I said, my throat was constricted, tight, and I swallowed painfully.   I walked up to him staring him down, then dropped my towel indifferently from my waist by his feet, “fuck off Elliot,” I said and dove into the water.  I breaststroked out-and-out and out underneath the water until I felt my lungs burning and shrieking for oxygen.  I kept swimming through the warm tepid water until I hit the cold spot indicating the drop off loomed below.  I finally popped up for air.

Elliot was gone.  His fishing pole was all that was left of him, a mirage of recrimination shimmering on the dock.

“You’re gonna want to turn here Leon,” said Billy.  He and I were in the back of his Honda, Elliot rode shotgun.  We were driving down a dusty dried blood rose-colored road into the Everglades National Park.  I looked out the window at a lagoon winking at me, dappled with hard coins of sunshine.

“Why are there so many logs floating out there in the lagoon?” I asked quizzically.

“You’re kidding, right,” said Billy, “you pullin’ my leg, Baby Girl?”

“No,” I said smiling baffled. “Why?”

“Those are gators”, he said.

“No way,” I said laughing.  “They really do  look like logs floating in the water!”

“Yes ‘way,’” he said, “you really are from the North aren’t you?”

“Shut up, Billy,” I said punching him in the arm.

“You’re gonna regret that later, girl,” he said rubbing his arm in fake anger.

The day had become majestically hot, and as it was off-season for tourists, the park was quiet.  We walked around the trails that were lined with crushed white shells.  We looked at pictures of alligator ancestry and ate ice cream cones, rapidly licking the sticky melt off our fingers.  We mocked the few families wandering around dressed in their tourist regalia, we stood out as misfits in our construction stained jeans and work boots, and I in my ubiquitous black sun dress freckled with orange blossoms and tiny, dusty lime green leaves.  I was the only one in flip-flops.

“Let’s go  take us a closer look at those gators,” said Billy.  “Prove to Baby Girl here that they ain’t just logs floating out in the water.”

“Thanks, but you don’t need to prove anything to me,” I said with a short laugh.  I stood up from the picnic table we were having a smoke break at and walked toward the shore of the lagoon.  The sun had begun to drop and the water was flat gold with the long black and green logs of alligators drifting like clouds across its face.

Billy snuck up behind me.  He grabbed my arm, brought it behind me, forcing my hand up high between my shoulder blades.  “Let’s take a closer look, Baby Girl,” his breath huffed into my ear.

“Billy,” I squealed dancing around on my tiptoes trying to wiggle out of his grip.

He walked me closer to the lagoon, my feet tripped over themselves, I lost a flip-flop.  I began to struggle more, “Billy, knock it off,” I said trying to bat at him with my free hand.  He ducked away, but did not let go of me.

“Whatcha goin’ do about it,” he said in my ear and then nipped at it.

“Stop!”  I said trying to again break away from his grip.

“Knock it off Billy,” said Elliot from the picnic table.

“Or what,” asked Billy, he didn’t turn toward Elliot, but kept walking me toward the lagoon.

“Or nothing,” said Elliot, “just stop it, you’ve succeeded, she’s scared.”

“Is that it,” Billy said to me, “is he your knight in shining armor, Elliot, your ‘friend’, I know he don’t really got your back, does he, eh, Baby Girl?  He ain’t gonna stop me, is he?  Mother fucker can’t even get off his lazy ass to defend a woman,” he finished, hissing in my ear.

We were now at the edge of the shore.  I could see the alligators clearly, they no longer looked like logs, they looked like pre historic water monsters with very large yellow teeth.

“Alright, Billy, alright,” I said wiggling again.   “I can see they’re not logs, let me go please.”  I pleaded softly with all the sugar I could pour into my voice.

“Nah,” said Billy, grabbing my other free hand he pinned it back and walked me into the water.  It was like stepping into a warm mouth, my feet sank quickly into the soft muck on the bottom and churned up a cloud of milky silt.

“Billy,” I screamed breathlessly.  “Let me go!”

“Unh, uh,” he said forcing me further out into the water.  The water rose to my knees soaking the hem of my dress, which floated out around me, a dark, and wet black blossom.

“Enough,” said Elliot, his voice firm.  He began walking toward us.  Billy swiveled his body, half dragging me with him.  I noticed one of the alligators had turned toward us, its tail slowly beating the water out behind it.  I began to hyper-ventilate.

“Ah, c’mon, you know I’m just fucking around,” said Billy.  He let go of my hands; I scrabbled up to the bank and dashed to the car, scooping my flip-flops on the way.  I stayed perched on top of the car hood until the boys had their fill of throwing rocks at the alligators who drifted silently by ignoring the uproar on the shore.

We soon headed back to camp amidst the fiery sun drifting down, first securing supplies for the evening.  We stocked up on cigarettes, Budweiser, charcoal for the new Weber grill Billy had gotten, Bartles and James strawberry sunset wine coolers, for me as I liked my liquor sweet, kiwis, red snapper, shrimp.  Tonight we would feast.

“Hey Baby Girl, get that fire going,” Billy shouted from inside the cooler where he was rummaging around for a beer.

I am the best at getting the fire started, wind or rain, I disregard the fact that this task has fallen under the “woman’s” portion of chores around the camp.  Especially since I liked to burn things.  The fire soon snickered up to me and I sank into the one of the recliners and sighed contentedly; I sat mesmerized and watched the flames lick at each other while gobbling down the dry wood.

“Ok, kids, gather around, Big Daddy’s got a treat for you,” said Billy expansively.

“What, what,” I said clapping my hand together.  He had been hinting at a surprise all day.

“Window pane,” said Billy, “double dipped window pane from a buddy of mine in Berkeley.”

“Window pane?” asked Elliot. “What’s that?”

“Acid,” said Billy, “I’ve been saving it for a rainy day, guess I forgot the rainy season was over.”  He chuckled. “Hey Baby Girl, wanna take a little trip?”

“Oooh, yes please!”  I quite liked acid.  It was the first drug I had ever taken and I had never had a bad trip.

“Count me out,” said Elliot.

“Ah, come on Elliot, don’t be a pussy, this shit’s fan-fucking-tastic, Leon’s in, ain’t cha Leon?”

“Dude.  Like no question, I’m totally in,” replied Leon, who made a twirling motion by his head at Elliot to indicate craziness and then he sniggered.

“How about me and Elliot split a tab,” I suggested.  “You’ll really like it.  I loved acid the first time I took it, please, it’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Alright,” Elliot looked at me in acquiescence.

“Hell yes!  Gonna be a party tonight!”  Billy howled up into the sky.

The night air was smooth and balmy, there seemed to be no barrier between it and my blood.  I turned to Elliot and smiled.  He smiled back.  The fire flicked over his face, lancing shadows under his eyes.  We both turned to Billy.

“Baby Girl gets honors,” said Billy.

“Women,” said Leon shaking his head woefully, “always going first, damn.”

“Shut up Leon,” I said taking the tab proffered to me from Billy’s hand.  I bit it in half and handed the other half to Elliot.  I placed my half underneath my tongue, tasting bitterness like grapefruit rinds in my mouth.  “Don’t swallow it, just roll it around your mouth until it dissolves,”  I instructed Elliot.

“You’re quite the little expert, ain’t ‘cha?”  Said Billy arching an eyebrow up at me.

“I’ve dropped acid before,” I said saucily.

“Well, la-tee-da Miss Thing,”  said Billy, but he was smiling.

We never got around to eating the snapper that Billy had put on the grill in foil packets.  Elliot and I wandered down to the dock to watch the water. We sat down together and just as the acid began to peak, I started to tell him stories, fairy tales mostly, happily ever afters with twists and turns and switch backs. He laid down on his back, hands folded underneath his head and watched the stars, listening to me with his whole boy body.  Billy and Leon dance around the fire drinking Budweiser and whooping like school children.  Their shadows leaping and twirling around the fire.

“Baby Girl!” Billy suddenly bellowed from out of the darkness.  “Where the fuck are you!”

I scrabbled up onto my feet and dashed up to the camp.

“Girl where have you been?”  Billy demanded to know, his eyes blazing at me.

“I just went down to the dock to look at the water with Elliot,”  I said looking up into the black saucers of his dilated pupils.

Billy glowered at me and shook his head negatively.  “You spend too damn much time with him, you’re my old lady not his.  You understand that?”

“Ok, ok, Billy, I know that.”  I whispered and reached for his arm, which he yanked away.

“Leon and I are gonna get some more beer.”  He said still glaring at me.

“Can you drive ok?”

“I’m damn straight capable.  You best be up here by the fire when I get back.”  He grabbed me and smashed his mouth into mine, roughly kissing my mouth and pushing his tongue down me throat.

“I will be,”  I said breathlessly when he had stopped kissing me.

When they returned I was still sitting by the fire.  I had gotten up once to look for my cigarettes.  I do not know how long it took to find them, but it felt like it was hours into tomorrow.  Elliot was still down on the dock.  I heard the rumble of the Honda’s muffler and straightened up in my chair awaiting Billy and Leon’s return.

Billy eyed me up silently, but did not say anything to me as he got out of the car.  Leon popped out and strutted around the fire like a chicken hawk.

“Hey, Leon, catch.”  Billy said tossing him a can of beer from the case he had opened up and was loading into the cooler.

I poked at the fire, slowly laying in a couple more pieces of wood.  My pupils felt like dry black holes.  I thought they might catch flame if I got too close.  Billy and Leon sat down without speaking, slugging back their beers and watching me pick at the fire.  Billy suddenly got up and wove over to the car.  He returned a minute later fumbling with  a plastic cellophane.

“Let’s do some more.”  He said, the edge of a belch slurring his words.

My eyes widened, “I don’t know if I want to, I’m pretty fucked up.”

“Bullshit,” he said, “I want to have some fucking fun.  I’ve got four hits left, one for each of us.”  He gazed into the cellophane and counted them off.

Elliot’s voice drifted to us from the edges of the campfire, “I’m done, count me out”.  He walked around the fire and waved before turning into the hooch and closing door.

“Fucking pansy,” said Billy turning back to Leon and myself.

“Here Leon.”

“Nah, you know what, man, I guess I’m a pansy too, I can’t take this shit real well, I’m gettin’ to be too paranoid for it.  Thanks, but no thanks.  I’m just gonna get mellow.”  Leon grinned lopsided at Billy and tried to light up another cigarette, but he got distracted my the fire light bouncing off his lighter and sat playing with it, the cigarette forgotten, dangling from his mouth.

Billy shrugged, handed me a tab, I took it, and quickly swallowed it, I did not want to taste the bitterness again.

“Fuck it.”  Billy said and ate the other three hits.  “Come here, Baby Girl, give us a kiss.”

I leaned into him and kissed his sticky Budweiser mouth while the stiff brush of his mustache prickled at my face.  He pushed his tongue into my mouth; the three hits of acid came along with it.  I tried to push the Windowpane back into his mouth, but he closed his lips and pulled away from me.

“Uh, huh, Baby Girl, you keep that shit it in your mouth.”

My breath tightened in my chest, the acid grapefruit and mercury in my mouth, layers of thick strychnine bitterness webbed my tongue, shivering down my throat.

“Swallow.”  Billy demanded.

I swallowed.

“Open your mouth.”

I did and Billy looked in to confirm that the hits were gone.

“Good girl.”  He smiled now and patted my head.

The fire grew larger.  The stars came down from the sky, sad faded photographs of their dead selves from thousands of years ago.  I wandered away from the fire.  I decided to go swimming, but never made it off the dock.  The rippling water was too entrancing to break into–black and slinky and alive, like the Stephen King short story where the oil slick eats the swimmers.

I never heard Billy calling for me.

I returned to camp at sunrise.  The fire was dead.  Elliot was asleep in the hooch; his snores drifted out lazy yellow underneath the door of the hooch and gathered like a small cloud there.  Leon was curled up in one of the armchairs, a glazed purple puddle that pulsed slowly with his ragged breaths.

“Billy?” I whispered entering into the screened area of the camper, “Billy?”

He was not there.  I lay down on the bed.  I curled and unfurled my body, rolling over the bed from one side to the other.  I could not sleep.  I lay listening for the sound of his Honda’s distinctive chortles.  The camper screens laughed at my sleeplessness and the sun edged in the corners of the window shades.  When I finally heard his car I rolled away from the screen door and lay fiercely still pretending to be asleep.

“Girl, girl wake up.”  He shook my body, his hands scaly, dry.

I cracked my eye a slit; through the black fringe of my eyelashes I could see that he had become a giant alligator, his golden eyes blazed down at me.

“Girl,” its teeth clicked, chattering madly at me, “girl, wake the fuck up.”

I rag-dolled my body out.  I played my best possum.

The alligator raised its paw, claws dirty and crooked, it pulled away the sheet wrapped around my body and crawled into bed with me.

“Carmen,”  he said voice low and guttural, paw descending.  “I love you, do you hear me?”  He said grunting and shaking my body.  “Do you hear me?  I fucking love you!”

I kept my eyes closed.


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