Maidenhead

‘Flannery O’Connor, Myra, is one strange-ass lady writer. She described violence in a way that no one ever had before. I’ve got some of her collections. She’s from Savannah. That’s the south.’

I held on to the door handle as Aaron shifted off the streetcar tracks so we could go even faster. In my side-door mirror I didn’t see Lee anymore. Wils’ eyes were closed.

Aaron passed me the J. I took a few hard long puffs. Wils’ shoulders were moving. I heard Lee breathing through her nose.

I didn’t want to lose my virginity with Aaron.

‘Flannery O’Connor had no sex life. Which probably helped her writing. Don’t you think?’

‘Oh yeah!’ Lee sat up and wiped her mouth. Wils stretched his arm right out the window and laughed. I felt Lee’s eyes in the back of my head.

‘Can I have some of that, Aar?’

‘Ask Myra. She’s the fiend tonight.’

‘Myra, can I please pretty please have some of that?’

I stuck my arm backwards. Lee held my wrist. She sucked in from the joint with me holding it. I knew I was just supposed to forgive her. Maybe she really did think my essay was brilliant. Maybe this guy Chris would actually publish it when I was done.

‘Have you tried X yet, Myra?’ Wils asked from the back.

‘No.’

‘You gotta try it, it’s excellent.’

‘True,’ Lee added. ‘She should try it one day. But, Myra, you know, she’s already ecstatic.’

We passed by Filmore’s Hotel. I looked up. Elijah’s light was not on. I wanted him bad. I wanted a sex life. I wanted to be ecstatic. I wanted to be up there in the bathroom giving it to him.

§

Chris’s building was small and rundown with long bubbled windows in the front. There were speakers off the second-floor balcony. A couple of guys in ripped jeans waved at

us and went inside. One of them was Jeremy, Aaron’s brother.

Inside, Lee took me by one arm and Aaron hooked me by the other. I felt like a convict. We made our way like that through the black-painted rooms lit up with candles in bottles.

‘This is My-My, everyone,’ Aaron said to the last room, a windowless office of ground-to-floor books in crates.

‘Myra,’ I hissed.

Lee squeezed my arm. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered.

There was a red-haired, bearded guy perched on a milk-crate throne smiling at us. A group of people sat crossed-legged below him in a circle. Everyone looked pleased to see Aaron with his little red purse.

‘It’s so nice to meet the writer, finally,’ said Chris, the king holding court, stretching out his arm as if we were supposed to go and touch it.

My heart started racing. I forgot that I was stoned.

I had a feeling that Jen and Charlene were here.

I extracted myself from Aaron and Lee and ran out of that black room into the kitchen. Charlene and Jen, yes, were at the table, smoking in aprons. They didn’t look surprised to see me. It smelled like garlic roasting. I can’t believe that guy read the first draft of my essay. Which sucked. Fucking god.

‘Why are you guys here?’

‘Aaron’s got the best stash,’ Jen said. ‘That dude Chris is totally hot. And Jeremy invited us, so fuck you, okay?’

I left the kitchen. The fact that that guy had read my essay made me feel hairy, breathy shame.