I’ve barely even touched a girl. I don’t have friends. I live in the shadow of both my brothers — one for his single-minded focus on success, the other for his brilliance, rough smile, and ability to make people like him. I hope my sister won’t just be another slab of flesh that some guy just picks up and throws a few dollars at to buy cheap lipstick but don’t forget the beer. I work with my father on weekends and my hands get dirty and blistered. I get thoughts in my head of movies with sex scenes and about girls from school, model girls, a female teacher or two, girls in ads, girls on calendars, girls on TV shows who turn letters, girls in uniforms or corporate suits who sit on the train reading thick books with perfume smothered on their throats and perfect makeup. I walk around the city a lot and when I do, it feels like the soul of home. I love my brother Rube but I hate what he does to girls, especially when they’re real girls like you who should have known better than to go out with him in the first place. I idolize Mrs. Wolfe because she keeps us together and works like hell. She works harder than she should ever have to, and one day I want to do something brilliant for her like put her in first class on a plane to wherever she wants….” I remembered to breathe but forgot what I was going to say next.
I stopped talking and stood up, because my legs were getting sore from the crouching down. Slowly, I walked toward Octavia Ash, whose bruised shins were now held up by her folded arms.
“I —”
Again, I stopped, as I walked to her and crouched down in front of her. I could feel the blood collect again in my legs.
“What?” she asked. “What is it?”
For a few seconds I wondered if I should do it or not, but before I allowed myself not to, I reached into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out clumps of paper and held them out to her, as if I were offering her everything I owned. On the paper were the words.
“These are mine,” I said, placing them in her outstretched hand. “Open them and read them. They’ll tell you who I am.”
She did as I asked, opening the small piece of writing that was my first. The only thing is, she read only the start of them. She handed the paper back to me and asked, “Would you read them to me, Cameron?”
My thoughts kneeled down.
The breeze wandered between us and I sat next to her again and began reading the words I wrote back in Chapter One of this story.
“The city streets are lined with truth, and I walk through them. Sometimes, they walk through me. …” I read the page slow and true, exactly how it felt to me, as if it were oozing from me, and I said the last part just a touch louder. “Yes, when that’s done, I also want the everything that’s her to fill up so much in front of me that it spills and shivers and gives, just like I’m prepared to do myself. But for now, happiness throws stones. It guards itself. I wait.”
When I was finished, a final silence gripped us both and the sound of the paper folding up again sounded like something crashing. A look of feeling clutched at her face, holding it.
She waited a while, before gently speaking. “You’ve never touched a girl before?”
“No.”
“Not till me?”
“No.”
“Could you do me a favor?” she asked. I nodded, looking at her. “Could you hold my hand?”
Feeling every part of it, I took Octavia’s hand, and she came closer and rested her head on my shoulder. She put her leg over mine and hooked her foot under my ankle, linking us.
“I never thought I’d show anyone my words,” I said quietly.
“They’re beautiful.” She spoke softly in my ear. “They make me okay….”
Soon after, she moved in front of me, crossed her legs, and faced me, making me read everything I’d written so far. When it was over, she moved my hands across her stomach to hold her on her hips.
She said, “You can drown inside me anytime, Cameron,” and she put her lips on mine again and let herself flow through the inside of my mouth. The pages were still in my hands, pressed against her as I