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“Wait, what’s going on—” She hangs up.
My daughter is killing me.
Sara
Please tell me that the burner is off and the smoke was a false alarm.
Zoe
The burner is off and the smoke was a false alarm.
Sara
Sigh.
I love you.
Zoe
Love you too, mom.
13
Chris
I pickeda hell of a time to stop smoking.
It’s only been a few days, but it’s fucked with my sleep, I’m jittery, and I’ve apparently picked up a bad habit of picking at the calluses on my thumbs just for something to do with my hands.
To compound all that, I need a fuck.
Badly.
Ever since Alwin and his stupid, flirty face left, I can’t stop thinking about Sara. As in naked, sweaty Sara, who showers in my house and thrusts her ass up in the air and is insanely flexible.
I’m sitting out back drinking a coffee—I’m drinking like eight a day now that I’m trying to quit smoking—and it’s early afternoon. A chill has settled in, the signs of summer sucked out by a cold front.
Why haven’t I been able to write anything good? I see lyrics all around me, the rustle of leaves or the sheen of water on a surface, but when I write them down, they’re all crap.
The back door behind me opens, and I turn. Sara steps out, and my eyes do this dance over her exposed skin—face, shoulder, cleavage, bare stomach with her cute little belly button I want to stick my tongue in, hand holding a steaming mug, her other shoulder for good measure and back on her face.
“Hey,” she says, leaning against the exterior wall. “I just wanted to ask real quick if I could use the hot tub tonight since it’s kind of chilly?”
Goddamn, I need a cigarette.
“Yeah, sure.”
She asks about logistics of getting it going, and fuck if I know, so we investigate, lifting the lid. Steam escapes with the smell of chlorinated water.
“Well, looks promising,” she says. Experimentally, she presses one of the buttons on the side, and despite the daylight, the tub turns a soft blue color. The lights go off with another press, and the next one causes the tub to erupt in bubbles.
She looks at me, grinning, her cheeks flushed from the warmth with wisps of hair curling in the humidity.
“I guess the landscapers that come keep up with it.”
“Awesome.”
We set the lid back down.
