Split

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Inside everything is dark, lit by dim candles burning in unseen sconces. As usual, the house is white on the inside and out: the walls, the ceilings, even the kitchen appliances. I’m in a downstairs bedroom, and the wall that separates the bedroom from the adjoining room (the kitchen) is incomplete at the top, not meeting the ceiling. Also, there are stairs attached to the unfinished wall, leading up to another bedroom. A large doorway cuts into the wall right next to the stairs. Along the opposite wall runs a long maroon couch, adjacent to a bed of the same color. Suggestions of other items of furniture, a lamp, a table maybe, flickering shadows in the sourceless candlelight. I’m on the maroon bed, and I’m having a sleepover. Arik is there, and so is John Woll. Other people are with us, but they’re not in on the secret: we want them to go to sleep so we can fuck. So far they haven’t. Arik is under the covers, and like he usually does (in real life too) makes some slightly sexual advance (like laying his hand on my leg), and I want to do something this time instead of just ignoring it because the circumstances give me an OPPORTUNITY. So I take his legs and wrap them around my body. Incredibly, no one else sees, and Arik surfaces from the covers giving a suspicious look. I find myself praying that he’s really into it and not just playing. Everything is so hot, echoed in the light performing ritual dances on his face, a primal world where love is ultimately fulfilling and sex feels itself. “I hope next time it’s real dark,” he says, and this somehow assures me. I’m excited again. Conversation floats in the air like a horde of mosquitoes. I wish everyone else would go to sleep. I see many faces, remember few words. Collin Hawkins from 9th Period World History is there, and I don’t know why. He says something with a nervous laugh. Suddenly it’s much later and people are falling asleep. Arik and John and I are getting ready. They can’t keep their hands off each other, and I can’t help but feel jealous. There is no vent for my energies, however, because just then a fluorescent light flips on in the kitchen, destroying our flickering moment. It’s my nanny. She is tall, matronly, blonde. She’s come home to check on us, she says. I tell her everything’s fine, she can go up to bed now. She checks the bedroom/living room without flipping the overhead light on, and then complies. As her feet disappear into the ceiling, I turn back toward my boys, nude in candlelight. They are fondling each other tenderly, but I want them to pleasure me now. Just as we’re about to get down to business, the kitchen lights come on again and my parents enter. They look like they’ve been out at the opera, because of the twinkle of my mother’s jewelry, and my father draped immaculately in his beige trenchcoat, wrapped in both night mist and cold winds. Their arrival makes me feel naked even though I am clearly clothed. I tell them everything’s fine and that they really should go to bed. They make a little protest, but eventually head upstairs. Probably to their own lovemaking. At their leaving the candlelight springs up from the shadows. Along with it come people, a lot more than are supposed to be sleeping over. Shadows trip on shadows, and their own present darkness makes everything I want okay. I run back into the room, frantic with need, and find Arik and John wrapped up in a blanket, moving slowly underneath. People are all over the couch, talking, laughing, making it seem like a party is in progress. As soon as I touch the bedsheet, Arik and John spring up and we all rip our clothes off. Flesh is revealed, lust is voiced. We run together, Arik takes my hands and we start slow dancing. A disco ball appears above us. Need fills my mouth like old metal. I glance toward the couch and notice Christy Craig, from high school. Her hair is done in an early 1900’s bouffant, but she is wearing modern clothes. The person beside her looks like an older version of Doug Holcomb dressed all in black. Between dips and twirls I ask Christy why she’s here. Sipping from an ornate glass, she says, “To watch.”

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