Fallout Read Online Free PDF Page B

time,” she suggests. “Then I have to go.”
    I have no idea who hears our poem, and I don’t care. We read through it together as if we’ve been practicing for years. Sometimes she reads alone, sometimes I do. Then, somehow, we both know when we need to deliver a line together.
    Who says that lusty implies
    some kind of wicked?
    that women are lewd
    or lascivious
    when, in fact, exuberant
    is not lawless
    extravagant
    not the same as careless.
    Immoral, or frolicsome?
    Unchaste, or playful?
    We choose playful and yet
    we see how they look at us when
    when my hand slides under his
shirt
    rests gently against the warm
skin of his back.
    when I slip my hand in his
    in the lobby of the Grand Plaza
Hotel.
    Your lover is a boy
    mine is a man
    gentle and sophisticated.
    He knows his wines
    cars
    cruise lines
    and corporate logos.
    My boy knows my body.
    Whatever electric pulses
    hormones
    or destiny
    were at work on the dance floor
    at the high school gym
    left us sweating in the backseat
of his car.
    Three years ago
    it seemed that fate
    had delivered my boy
    into my lap
    his curly hair tickling my chin
    as he nuzzled his way
    into cleavage
    and I sighed my way into
oblivion.
    My gentleman friend
    understands the language of
chocolates
    roses shipped by the dozen.
    My boy understands the
language of soccer
    shoots to score
    leaves his cleats
    on the floor by the bed
    and whoops when he should
whisper.
    There’s no way to speak of this
    without moaning
    the pleasure of memory
    the way the windows fogged
    the way the springs heaved us
back and forth
    the way he had to move the
umbrella
    before someone got hurt.
    Lace and small buttons
soccer cleats and hockey jerseys
    snaps and scarves
    jeans so tight you can’t help
but squeeze
    Â Â Â Â Â  Always a drink before
    Always a drink after
    The hostess greets him by name
    Good evening, Mr. Charmante…
    wine list
    specials.
    I am special
    his lovely girl
    elegant in pearls
    and pumps
    and a simple black dress
    he will peel off
    as I loosen his tie.
    It was all so easy, remember?
    Of course you remember
    the line in the sand
    the very minute when
    it stopped being easy
    the evening I
    picked up the cell phone
    and heard his wife’s voice
    the day we didn’t answer our
phones
    and kept on playing.
    You remember when we started being
    something else:
    an obligation
    born not of pleasure
    but of shared guilt
    knowing that the world
    divides
    into two kinds of people
    those who know
    those who have wives
    and those who don’t
    those who have killed
    and those who haven’t
    those who tell the truth
    and those who make love with
lies
    those who know what it is to be left
    and those who believe
    that leaving is easy.

Chapter Twelve
    Later, when I’m back at home, I wonder if it does any good to spew this stuff all over our audience. Who cares about that first time in David’s car? And what about Ebony’s married gentleman friend? How does it help anyone to know any of this?
    These questions scribble their way into my journal. I’m left with the thought that I will never know who is listening. Maybe some girl who is churning inside with guilt because she enjoys her boyfriend’s tongue just a little too much might realize she’s not alone. Maybe some girl who’s thinking things will be better after she takes those pills will hesitate long enough to get some help.
    â€œTa-ra! Ta-ra! Ta-ra!”
    Ebony and Maddy start the chant.
    Others in the packed coffee shop join in.
    The scalding water
    can’t mask this other pain
    can’t stop the bus
    rolling into the shower stall.
    Number 7
    Courtland-Downtown
    the driver’s face
    a moon in the window.
    one two three
    Maybe she counted
    then gave herself a shove.
    Maybe she fell
    her poor balance, the crowds…
    An old man swears he heard her cry
out
    a teenager claims silence.
    Whatever she said or didn’t say
    whatever she thought or