Saturday, May 14, 2005

Prom

The girl went through his closet, while he was out of the room.
So he couldn’t get self conscious, so he couldn’t stop the girl.

Do you want to know something? He has Scooby Doo boxer shorts.

Do you want to know something else? He’s got dresses that belonged to his dead sister hanging in his closet.

The girl found a dried yellow rose, baby’s breath and a photo album with a green plastic cover.

The girl found a plastic champaign glass full of something clear and gummy with silver glitter in it and a wick sticking out of the top. The glass had words printed on it that said “Homestead High School Home Coming 2000” with some cheesy little phrase underneath, like they always have for high school dances - - but it’s not like the girl was bitter. He had a box of loose pictures.

She was wearing a pale blue dress, her blonde hair done up, looking stiff with hair spray. Her nails long, with pink nail polish. They’re standing together awkwardly, she’s short and fat and he’s tall and thin, and they’re smiling for the camera. There are no other pictures to compare this one with because he’s thrown them all out. This one just slipped through in the mess of loose pictures.

She was wearing a pale blue dress, her dark hair done up, looking stiff with hair spray. Her nails long, with a French manicure. They’re standing like this in all the pictures: their head tilted towards each other, their heights almost matching and smiling for the camera.

She’s beautiful though. She has flawless skin, straight white teeth and long shapely legs. The girl knows because the girl saw them in the other pictures, the ones where She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt but still both standing, their heads tilted towards each other, their heights almost matching and smiling for the camera. She has none of the pudgy pastiness of the first girl, the blonde in her too-tight pinching satin prom dress.

The girl felt a pang of jealousy at She standing in bright sunlight against a vine-draped fence, 17 and going to a school dance on the arm of a boy you love. Such a pretty corsage and a dress so beautifully cut that you can’t tell her breasts are too small.

But then the pang is gone, why should it stay more then an instant?

After all, the girl was fucking Her ex-boyfriend.

And I smile, closing the album. Pulling the closet door shut as I turn to meet him, walking into the room with the two cups of coffee he’d been making.

“You’re being nosey Rabbit.”

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