How to Pronounce Knife - Souvankham Thammavongsa Page 0,7

you never know. If someone tells me no, I don’t get worked up about it. I mean, they said no. What’s more clear than that? There are always others who want to. It’s sometimes just fun to do it. Doesn’t have to mean anything.” Richard was not a beauty, but he acted like one. He said, “I’m not bad-looking. Anyway, looks don’t have anything to do with it. Sometimes good-looking people don’t do anything in bed. They just lie there. You want someone who has imagination, who is excited. It’s the best feeling ever.”

RICHARD HAD ONE of his parties. This party was different from the others. There wasn’t any food, and it began later in the evening. There was a green glass bottle on the floor in the middle of the room. All his furniture had been cleared away and piled on one side of the room. For all his talk, I had never seen him with a woman before. I knew what the bottle was for.

I looked around the room, at the twenty-five or so people gathered, to see if there was anyone I hoped it would land on. There wasn’t, but I still wanted to play. When I spun the bottle, it landed on a beautiful blond woman. A lawyer. She was still in her business suit, with the jacket on. I kissed her on the forehead, like she was some child, and everyone laughed. Richard said, “Isn’t she sweet?” I hated that he said that. I didn’t want to be sweet. I was old and I knew it and I had been called a lot of things, but “sweet” really irritated me. I watched as those who were chosen by the bottle kissed each other. After a while, it got boring. The people at the party thought so too and started to file out. I don’t remember who else was playing, or who they kissed. I only wanted it to be Richard’s turn. And each time it was, he always spent a long time with that person, kissing. He kissed a man who had a heavy belly, and then a dancer, then several others. He kissed them all with the same tenderness.

Richard told me, “You could go home, if you want. We’re just going to keep playing this game. It might get boring.” But I didn’t want to go home yet. It was the start of summer and I wanted something to happen to me.

There were three of us now. The other woman was named Lorrie. She worked in an art gallery. Lorrie behaved like she was a girl—giggling, chewing a few strands of her long hair, blushing. When Richard spun the green bottle this time, it landed on me. He laughed and said, “You don’t have to. You can say no.” But I didn’t want to say no. He was sitting crossed-legged on the floor, and I leaned over. He chewed spearmint gum. When we stopped, she was gone.

He said, “It’s three in the morning. You should go home.” He said it like a good friend who was looking out for me. I got the sense too that Richard didn’t like me being there at that time, alone with him. As though he was afraid of what an old woman wanted. “I don’t want to,” I said. I don’t know why I said it. Maybe just to see what he would do. He was a man, and I was bored.

His bedroom was clean and quiet. I said, “Can you take off your clothes? I want to see.” It surprised me, how he listened. He didn’t say it was a bad idea. He stood there naked, and he was beautiful, the way women are. He had hair on his chest and legs. I hadn’t seen hair on a chest for a long time and so I reached out to touch it. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It was so easy. He sat down on the bed and I sat on top of him. He didn’t go in deep but held me there. I was supposed to lower myself. But I didn’t. I could go as far as I wanted. The morning light came in, and he said, “We have to stop.” I didn’t want to. I liked looking at Richard’s face when he held me there. He looked scared, or like he was about to cry. Then he lifted me off him and turned around so I couldn’t see his face. He said, “You have