92: A Trembling Contest
‘My mom wanted a Porsche, so she named me James Dean instead. She never got what she wanted. Instead she got me. She looks over my head, straight past my tiny frame. “Jenny! Get your lazy ass out of bed”
“I’m right here! Mami look! See me! Look at me go. I’m all grown up and I found the way to my voice. Mum, I can here everything, I speak every language; I am every man. My name is not Jenny!” I’m pulling on her stupid skirt. It’s new. It’s black. Silk. I want to lay my sleepy head in her lap when the fear takes over. But she never lets me close. Never lets my voice be spoken aloud. Never calls. Texts me back every three months or so, just to make sure I haven’t stopped begging. But secretly she wants nothing to do me. Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s hardly a secret. I tell myself it is, in secret, to reassure my heart that it is not hanging on like an idiot to a love that can never be returned like it was dreamed. In the perfect world, I tell her gently, where mommies aren’t stuck in cages and left staring dumbfounded at their offspring, you would be loved. This is not that world. The only love left here lives in dreams. We must never stop sleeping soundly. I will never wake again!’
Marguerite rolls over from the side of mattress hugging the colorless walls of her bedroom, dangles her shoulders over the edge that’s facing me. I’m on the floor with my knees tucked into chest. ‘Dear boy!’ She exclaims. ‘Your name fits you like a glove. You’re stoic, so perfectly posed in style and grace every time I look at you. I don’t know what the fuck your complaining about. So mommy didn’t see your precious baby boy eyes. Look at my eyes baby. It could be the sky. It could be the sea. I could be all you ever see again if you stare into me long enough, be careful. I see you. You’re the luckiest brat alive, Felice. And you’re mine. Do you know how many would kill to feel the way that you do. Do you know how many I have killed to hold the power that rests on every inch of my skin? Are you warm yet? Come to bed. Let me remind you what you need. I think you may have forgotten.’
I look up at her pitifully. I play the most intoxicating role you could possibly fathom. I play the little boy that was abandoned. What? You want the truth? You want to know that I’ll run away. Fine. I’m lying. I don’t care what you think of me anymore. ‘My lungs open for one woman and one woman alone. And she is you. How much more could I possibly remember babygirl?’ I stand slowly. I take my sweet fucking time in doing every little thing that I do. Forty minutes for tea, four times a day at least. Two hours to walk to the market for one lemon. One fucking lemon! ‘You are moving so fast!’ She yells as I push my pelvic bones into the small muscles of her cheek. She bits the zipper of my baby blue jeans. I scream. ‘Shut up Felice! These walls are like paper, my roommates will hear everything.’ When her roommates hear everything I consider them lucky. She gets flustered and bikes to the closest bookstore to buy them a cookbook. ‘I’m sorry you heard us fucking’ she says with her eyes. ‘Here, cook something delicious while you think it over.’
‘Remember Marguerite?’ She lets my jeans free and grabs both sides of my hips. ‘Remember what, Felice?’ She’s barely paying attention to her own question. My boney baby body is all she sees. All she hears is my voice. But if I start speaking, she won’t register the words. I don’t answer. It kills me to remember without her, but my body is my only offering, I offer up everything. She pulls me, throws me down into a quilt. She rips off my jeans with her feet. She turns me over and shoves my mouth into the sheets. I don’t answer. She begs me to beg her. I don’t answer. She stops begging. ‘Beg me!’ She demands. She puts her hand on the back of my neck and slides her fingers down my spine, over my ass, ‘do you want me inside?’
‘I don’t want you.’
‘Don’t you fucking lie to me.’
‘Be gentle!’ I’m crying now. She remembers tenderness. She flips my body and lies by my side. ‘This is all my fault’ She giggles. ‘Do you trust me?’ Tears running down my pink flushed cheeks, I shake my head no. ‘Do you want me stop?’ I shake my head no again. She kisses me. She lets her lips fall to my belly and she leaves them an inch above my skin. She breathes. Every muscle of mine is in spasm. ‘My sweet girl, how beautiful you are. Calm down.’
I sit up and grab her waist, squeeze it with all my might and plead ‘It’s too much! I can’t stop needing your touch. I can’t feel anything when I don’t need. I cant stop trembling.’ She wraps her hands around my neck, pushes me deeper into her guts. ‘I’m trembling too babyboy. It’s a trembling contest.’
I win.