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Mom had to bathe her in tomato soups and purees for about a week. I still joke now that the stench lingers to this day. My sister hates it.
It disappears into the brush and we all head inside, breathing a sigh of relief.
“It’s been a while since we came in here,” Joseph comments. “Being old enough to drink means I don’t really need to sit in a shed and drink these days.” He swigs the gin and I kick an empty can of beer across the floor.
Nok rolls out the blankets and checks them for damp. I sit on a checkered green and black one and lean against the wall, holding my hand out for more alcohol.
“Strip poker, anyone?” Bobby asks, laughing and throwing a deck of cards in between us all.
“No,” Nok snaps, sitting beside me and resting his hands over his bent knees.
“We have to go around the room and say something bad that we’ve never told anyone before,” Joseph suggests, waving a hand flippantly, “I saw it on TV. It looked like a great ice breaker.”
“Sounds good to me.” Bobby glugs three large gulps of the gin and then belches, doubling over as though about to vomit.
“Bobby’s confession,” I announce, cupping my hands to my face, “he can’t handle his alcohol.”
“That’s kinda racist,” Joseph jests.
I frown. “How is that racist?”
“Pale faces like to call us alcoholics and say we can’t handle our liquor.” Joseph is the one who explains this and my jaw hits the floor.
I look around them, waiting for the punch line but it doesn’t come. “Pale faces are assholes.”
“See? I knew I liked this girl.” Bobby plays music from his phone, not so loud that it’s a burden on the atmosphere. “Right. Who’s going first?”
“Joseph should,” Nok states, smirking at his friend who has put the light of a flashlight against a glass bottle full of water. It makes the room glow a soothing green, highlighting everybody’s features in a way that makes us all look kind of eerie and animated. “It’s his idea.”
“Fine, let me think.” He sits and taps his feet on the floor. “When I was twelve, I stole twenty dollars from Elder Gray, because I needed to buy condoms for my babysitter.”
Bobby starts howling with laughter. “You thought you were gonna fuck your babysitter?”
Joseph lifts a shoulder, looking proud of the moment. “She was so hot.”
“I just can’t believe you still had a sitter at twelve,” I comment and Nok laughs in agreement.
Joseph flips me off and nudges Bobby with a foot to his bent knee. They’re both sitting but Joseph is upright with crossed legs whereas Bobby is leaning back on his hands with his legs spread and bent at the knees.
“I once broke this ceremonial birthing jug and blamed it on my sister.”
“That’s a lie,” I combat, raising a brow.
“Is not,” he responds, raising his chin.
I laugh. “Did you get away with it?”
“Umm… yeah, duh.”
Looking at Nokosi, I raise my nose a fraction, signaling that it’s his turn.
“No, you,” he instructs.
I cross my eyes and try to think of something, anything. But nothing comes to mind. In fact, not much of anything comes to mind. I look deep into the recesses of my brain for the memory of a birthday party, or a Christmas with my family.
My head starts to pound, like a battering ram is hitting it from the inside of the skull. The more I search for information, the worse it feels. How can I not remember anything?
But then my hand goes to my temple and the tender bruise still there beneath my skin.
Could the knock to my head have hurt me in such a way that I no longer remember my past?
“I held a group of men in a gas station at gunpoint and robbed them,” I say quickly, simply to skim over my turn so they don’t look at me so expectantly as I suffer this inner turmoil.
“No fucking way,” Bobby breathes.
“She so did,” Joseph states with pride and winks at me. “We were there.”
“I kicked one of them in the face while they were already down, that’s my confession,” Nokosi adds and cringes after a swallow of the gin. The bottle is a quarter gone already.
“And you enjoyed it,” I bait and his eyes flicker with the same thrill he felt that night. I see the same shadow in his eyes that I saw then. It’s intriguing and so fucking sexy.
“How did that happen?” Bobby looks perplexed, terrified, but also impressed.
“It’s a long story.” I bring the bottle to my lips and pass it off.
“We have time,” Bobby pleads, his eyes wide.
We let Joseph tell it because I’m not much of a storyteller and I’m still in turmoil. I shift away from Nok subconsciously, wondering the extent of damage that his tantrum has caused.
