Friday, 28 September 2012 16:26

You’ll Do

Everything Must Go Everything Must Go

You’ll Do, Diva Book of Short Stories (Diva Books, 2000)


I’m driving with my girlfriend through town after fuckwit town. Just to get away, but that’s another story. We’ve left all that behind us now. She’s driving, I’m riding. She doesn’t mind, which is good, because I don’t drive. Can’t drive. Just never got to learn. I’m the only person I know who doesn’t drive, apart from my old girlfriend Janet, and she was weird in other ways too. Lives in Maine now. There you go. Weird. We couldn’t hold it together. Both of us stationary. Lack of transportation got the better of us, I guess. That was a long time ago, before all of this.

I look over at Nancy. She doesn’t complain. She’s driving in that detached way that feels comfortable to me now. I know she’s not blanking off from me; she’s just a little drawn into the road out in front. It’s like a meditation, a restful state for her. And I don’t disturb it. Drink it in myself. I’ve found her calmness increasingly calming, now I’ve gotten over resisting it. She was patient with me in those early days, more than I deserved, I used to say. She’d say right back that just showed I had low self-esteem and we’d laugh.

The light catches the silky hair on her forearm, resting on the wheel. Blond, fine like baby hair, but long. Sometimes when we’re lying down I search her arm and find these hairs two, maybe three inches long on her arm, like mutants. She laughs, won’t let me pull them out. She doesn’t complain. She knows it’s not criticism. I just love to explore her body. I love the difference in all women’s bodies. From the start I’ve always been drawn to bodies like mine, yet so unlike when you get down to it. Yeah, you’ve worked it out, we’re two girls together. You can say it: dykes. That’s ok. I’ve been called as bad and survived worse. I sleep with women. And if you’re a man reading this, I guess there’s a four in five chance you go for girls as well. So hey, that makes for some common ground, right? Anyway, it’s not important for this story. This isn’t some heart-rending tale of unrequited lesbian love in a car across one of the more tedious of this great nation’s states. No sex scenes, guys. You can check out here if that’s all that got you this far.


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