Fallout (3 page)

I’VE GOT A LITTLE PROBLEM

And I’m not really sure

how to fix it. Not really sure

I need to. Not really sure I could.

Life is pretty good. But once

in a while, uninvited and

uninitiated, anger invades me.

It starts, a tiny gnaw

at the back of my brain. Like

a migraine, except without pain.

They say headaches

blossom, but this isn’t so

much a blooming as a bleeding.

Irritation bleeds into

rage, seethes into fury.

An ulcer, emptying hatred

inside me. And I don’t

know why. Life is pretty good.

So, what the hell?

AS I PONDER THE QUESTION

A key turns uselessly in the lock—

uselessly because I neglected

to secure the door behind me.

Nikki peeks cautiously around

it, jumps back like she’s been

bitten. Guess she didn’t expect

to find some guy standing here.

“Hey,” I yell, “it’s only me.”

Nikki slams back across

the threshold, almost knocks

me over.
Hunter! You scared

the heebie-jeebies out of me!

Heebie-jeebies. She’s totally

cute. I pull her into my arms,

happy to concentrate on her slate

blue eyes, instead of the green ones

in the mirror. “Sorry,” I say,

meaning it. And to prove

just how much, I give her one

of my world-famous kisses.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit of

an exaggeration, but I have been

told I’m an exceptional kisser.

I give it my all, and Nikki responds.

Her kiss is like a sudden fever—

white-hot, unplanned, contagious.

Too quickly, she cools, pulls away.

Apology accepted.
But no smile,

and she never doesn’t smile. I study

her face harder, find anger, concrete

in the set of her jaw, but eiderdown

sorrow in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She slumps against me, takes

refuge as her sadness flows, wet,

in steady tears.
My dad walked out

on my mom. He wants a divorce.

THAT’S IT
?

I’d like to feel sorry for her, console

her, tell her it’s all a huge mistake.

But what I really want to say

is, “Big effin’ deal. Divorce?

At least they were together

while you were growing up.

At least you’ll get to see him

almost as much as you do now.

At least you know just who

in the bloody hell your father is!”

But that would take Nikki-Complete.

What I hold here is Nikki-in-Tatters.

So I take her hand, lead her

into the kitchen, sit her at the table.

“I brought a little something

that will make you feel better.”

I twist one up, half expecting her

to say no. She only smokes weed

on special occasions. Apparently

this occasion qualifies, however.

She takes a big drag, fights not

to cough. Fails, and that makes

the tears fall harder.
He
—hack—

is such a prick. I ca-can’t
—hack—

believe he could just up and leave

Mom. N-not
—hack—
f-f-for … her!

“Who?” None of my business,

of course. But, hey, she brought it up.

His goddamn boss! You know
,

the bitch who owns the company?

She’s old. Rich, yeah, but old …

Her voice is tinged with hysteria.

After almost twenty-five years
,

he leaves Mom for … for her?

“Here.” I pass her the J. “Take

another hit. A little one this time.”

She doesn’t cough, but she does ask,

You’d never cheat on me, would you?

I BITE DOWN HARD

On the impending lie.

Fact is, I’ve already

cheated on Nikki,

though I’m not sure

why. It was an awful

mistake, and it only

happened once, post-

football-game beer

binge. God, that girl—

a Vegas Rebels fan,

and so a rival meant

to be jeered at, not laid—

was a real piece of work.

Anorexic as hell, but

high-horsepower motor,

revved to the max …

Nikki stares at me,

waiting for an answer.

Say something quick,

idiot. I reach across

the table, take possession

of her hand, look into

the depths of her tear-

glittered eyes. “You

are my one and only.”

AS THE WORDS

Slide out of my mouth,

I wish I could mean them.

She is so beautiful, just there.

A fairy seeking wings, and

when she finds them, I know

she’ll fly far, far away.

Love is like that.

Suddenly I want her more

than anything. Like some

conceit-driven Grimm

Brothers king, I need to

capture my sprite with

trembling hands. Except

I could crush her.

Wonder how many small

things of beauty—flowers,

seashells, dragonflies—

have met such a demise.

Wonder how much fragile

love has collapsed

beneath the weight of confession.

ENOUGH ALREADY

One too many lit classes,

I guess. A little too much poetry,

dredged up at all the wrong times.

Thanks so much for that, Mom.

You’ve got a poet’s soul
, she told

me once.
And an old soul at that.

Whatever that means. I don’t feel

so old, for the most part. I do like

words, but this is not the time

for them, nor is it the time for

confessions. There is invitation

in Nikki’s eyes. It’s time for that.

THE WOOD

In her room is cherry—deep

reddish brown. Elegant.

The sheets on her bed are black

satin. Slick beneath desire-

dampened skin. Her hair is like

a sunburst against the onyx-

colored pillowcase. Its perfume

spices the air with ginger

and some exotic bloom.

The scent fuels my hunger

for her body. I want to own

it, merge with it, become part

of her.
Hurry
, she urges. But

the tease is almost the best

part of the game, so I bring her

close and closer with my hands

and mouth and finally I am inside

her. I can’t get enough, so we go

and go until the only thing left

is to finish. And still I want more.