It was glorious. Ow!”
“You deserved that. Hold on a sec.” She stands up and
retrieves her heels from the closet. “Ok. Go on.”
“Well, here’s the best part of the note, which was mostly
about what a liar I was, about the whole ‘time’ thing. It said,
‘Oh, and by the way, thank you for taking the time out of your busy
schedule to fuck me. You do remember that, don’t you?’”
This time, blood was drawn.
“Well, my housemates managed to get a hold of this note–”
“Managed? What a liar you are.”
“All right, I left it on the couch. But they *loved* it, and
would repeat huge sections of it at odd times, usually when Jill
was over.”
“You didn’t care. You love that.”
“I do. But you know, I was thinking about the whole thing,
and the way I see it is : at least, even if it never happens
again, at least, for that one moment, she *felt* something that
strongly. You know–”
“You really believe that–”
“I have to. Who said ‘Between grief and nothing, I choose to
give grief’?”
“Faulkner you, pretty boy.”
“Thought you’d never ask,” I say, pulling my shirt out of my
pants, “But let’s hurry. There’s a lot I want to do today.”
And then she’s on me, with shoes and skin.