Read Grease Stains, Kismet, and Maternal Wisdom Page 11

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  We were curled up on a red sofa in the studio. We were in our monster suit. Arms, legs, penis, vagina. Two heads. Samantha’s mother was going to run some errands but not before snapping a picture of the beast that was us. She took the picture. We giggled. Then she left. We were alone. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Samantha ran upstairs. I told her I’d be there in a minute.

  I called my mother and told her I’d be coming back tonight. She understood. Mothers always understand. I hung up and plugged in my cell phone. Then I went to the bathroom and then I went upstairs.

  Samantha was curled up on a twin bed. She was so sleepy. I climbed up next to her. The room was very bright and hot. We lay close.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  We kissed, we cuddled and we touched. We were slow, deliberate. We were miles away from fucking in every room of the house but that was okay. The bed was small and we were wrapped up in each other and we fell asleep. I was still there. She was still there. I was so glad she talked me into staying. I was so glad she didn’t go to the Cape. We slept. We were so tired. We slept. And that was enough.