Awkward Beginnings and Assorted Insecurities (#fiction)

man sitting near fence
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II

He wasn’t a virgin. He had definitely had sex more than once before and with more than one person, which was just another way of saying she was the third person on his sexual resume. He had enough experience to know where to put what and so forth, but things had never moved quite so quickly before. She was almost a stranger, even if they had talked in class from time to time.

To be fair, it wasn’t like she just threw him in bed and jumped on him. She invited him for pizza first, then she drove him to the park for a walk in nature. At the park, they sat in the grass on the slope of a kind of ditch, and he was lost in his thoughts, because that was where he spent most of his time. He was sort of staring into the distance, but he wasn’t looking at anything, really, when he felt a light kiss on the back of his neck.

She apologized for being so forward and said she didn’t generally do that. If she’d been more honest, she would have told him that anytime she’d sat in the grass with a man before, he had immediately put her hand on his crotch, so she wasn’t accustomed to having to get things started herself. A lot of women don’t meet the quiet boys, the non-sex-crazed boys, the shy boys, or the timid boys because those boys don’t meet a lot of women. If you think about it, it seems obvious.

But back at his room, she just expected to move straight to the bed, and that took him by surprise. Of course, he didn’t know that she’d taken some amount of speed earlier and was sort of buzzing around, not really in a relaxed mood, if you get my drift. She got the speed above board, more or less, because doctors are always willing to prescribe it for weight loss. They feel sorry for the chubby girls and want to do their part to help them be more desirable.

So that’s how you end up with a pretty well withdrawn young man going at it with a even-less-inhibited-than-usual somewhat chubby woman pretty much screaming and laughing as if she forgot they were in a fourplex with old and uninsulated walls. He felt embarrassed and awkward, but she didn’t seem to notice, so never mind. She was just in a routine, and he was out of his comfort zone. We don’t always end up where we expect to be, do we?

Living a Life of Social Acceptability (#fiction)

woman sitting on ground
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I really don’t think you’re in any position to judge. I mean, she had a hard day and you don’t know what she’d been going through. For that matter, you don’t know a damned thing about what her life was like. What she’d already been through and all that. You have no idea, so what she did with her afternoons might be perfectly understandable, except to a bunch of prudes or something. I don’t know, maybe you’re not a prude, and I’m just being too defensive of her for some reason.

Whatever, she had a hard day, like most of them, and she just wanted to unwind, and unwinding meant she’d go see Jim and get a little weed, because Jim always had a little weed on hand, and a few hits off the bong would just do the trick. Of course, a visit to Jim would take most of the afternoon as he’d want to set the mood with a little Neil Young—it was always Neil Young, even if she’d have preferred Bob Marley or something, but a little Neil Young in the background is really nothing to complain about, especially if you really need a couple of hits off the bong. And let’s face it, that’s what this is all about.

Of course, after some Neil Young in the background, a couple of hits off the bong, and some time to relax, some people get a little horny, and Jim was likely to expect something for getting that cheap but quality grass and being hospitable and everything. And he wasn’t so horrible in bed, even with the bad leg and all. I mean, he wasn’t selfish or mean or anything. He just got to business and took care of himself, which is okay if you can focus, and a little pot does help to focus, so you can sort of do your own thing while Jim takes care of himself. That’s the great thing about marijuana: two people can do their own thing and take care of themselves without really feeling lonely for a while.

It’s like the self-loathing takes a break for a minute, and you can just take it easy. Or, maybe she wouldn’t have thought of it that way, but you know, in hindsight, we see things differently. Anyway, I’m sure she and Jim just did what they needed to do to get by, and it’s none of your business or mine why they lived the way they did. That’s what we’re all doing, really, just trying to get by. And I don’t know why I’m defending them, either, as I had nothing to do with any of it, but that’s how it went down that day.

That’s how it went down at least once or twice a week. Purely business, you see. Business with benefits, or something like that. Outside of these encounters, they didn’t really socialize. I don’t know how many other similar arrangements Jim might have had, but I reckon he was harmless enough, and the cops never seemed to take notice of him on account of how quiet he was, so he really presented a good situation overall. You know, for someone who just needed to take the edge off from time to time.

So she went there and got what she needed, and you can imagine that might take a couple of hours at least, so it was dark when she got home. It would probably be a good time to study, but sex and smokes can make a girl a little hungry, so she’d be starting a pizza for sure. And she would need some ice cream for after, but, wait, no ice cream, unless she could be bothered to make an impromptu visit to the Piggly Wiggly.

So that pretty much explains this particular series of events. That’s why she drove to the grocery store in her bare feet. That’s why she was being quiet but also feeling relaxed and a little friendly, which might explain why she felt confident enough to flirt with the guy trying to get some pecan praline ice cream out of the freezer. At that moment, she just wasn’t in the mood to worry about anything, and he didn’t seem the least bit scary.

Texas Tornadoes and the Power of Prayer (#NaPoWriMo)

Screenshot 2019-04-10 at 05.58.12Oh, Good Lord, y’all, I thank we better git in the house. That sky is darker than Brother Jimmy’s sermon last Sunday, and it’s flashing like a God-damned disco. It’s gonna be a gully washer, all right, but Ronnie’s got the big truck if we git in any trouble, and we can surely trust Jesus will be with us. The last time we had a toad strangler like this, a big ol’ twister turned Alma’s roof inta toothpicks.

They say on the news that Greens Bayou is outta its banks, so y’all come on and let’s pray that God will watch over us. Come on in here away from those windows, and if you hear sumpin’ that sounds like a train, let’s hide in this closet and trust Jesus to know what’s right.

Some time later:

It’s over, so y’all come on give us a hug. It just goes to show Jesus is always by our side, watchin’ over us and protectin’ us. Uncle Raymond just called and said a tornado blew a tree on Bobby’s house and kilt him.

God bless his sweet soul.

Galena Park Memories (a story)

“Hey, Kenneth! You gotta birthday comin’ up, dontcha?” one of them blurted from the end of the counter.

“Yessir,” came the diffident reply.

“I think I’m gonna buy you a tractor. You think you’d like that?” the boisterous Screenshot 2019-03-25 at 13.31.33interrogation continued.

“Yessir.”

“I know you need sumpin’ to pull your head out of your ass!” With that, the guffaws erupted from all four at the end of the counter—all pleased with their comedic wit.

Those bullies said Kenneth was “retarded,” and they seemed to think that made it okay to talk to him like that. I was just a kid and didn’t know if words like “retarded” were bad or not, but I felt sorry for Kenneth. I don’t know how smart he was, but I know he never got my order wrong, and he could make a pretty mean grilled cheese.

He was born and raised in Galena Park, just like them bullies were, except he didn’t seem to mind it so much. I liked him because he never seemed to have anything to prove, and the cherry sodas he made were delicious. He never treated me like a kid, and I never treated him like one, either, even if he was like 40 or something.

I think that’s what bothered them bullies so much. Kenneth didn’t care. He didn’t get mad or cry or anything. He just made cherry sodas and grilled cheeses and kept the drugstore counter spotless all the while.

He was a good man, and them bullies knew it. But they had to try to convince people they were better than Kenneth, because everyone knew they damn sure weren’t any better than anyone else. And they weren’t any better than Kenneth, either.