Issue #20 (2011) PDF - myweb - Long Island University

warm for this heavy cover and I‘m afraid somewhere in the night I‘ll throw it off in my sleep and
expose myself. Jim is stretched out on top of the covers, socks on. I watch the movie for awhile
but my eyes want to close. I turn off the light on my side and turn toward the wall so the light from
the TV doesn‘t bother me, so the only thing Jim sees is the back of my head. He finishes watching
the movie and switches it off and our little room is suddenly completely dark. I listen for Jim to get
under his covers but hear nothing. I imagine him sitting there, propped against his pillow waiting
for his eyes to adjust, get his night vision. I can‘t fall asleep knowing he‘s waiting for me to take
shape in the darkness. His breathing becomes noticeably irregular and I feel his foot reach over and
caress my ass through the blanket.
―Layla‖ he whispers. I shift my position and it stops, resuming a short time later. I shift
again; it stops. We keep this up for five minutes. Finally, he gets up and picks his way to the
bathroom where I hear the shower run.
I wake up sometime later with the room still pitch black. Jim has his hand on my thigh, his
fingers dangerously close to my crotch and he‘s shaking me gently He shows me his watch with the
illuminated face. It‘s ten o‘clock. Without the sun, I feel we have slept the entire day away. I
shower quickly, checking twice, three times that the door is locked. My elbows hit the wall around
me and I‘m still damp when I tug on my bathing suit covering it up with a pair of shorts and polo
shirt. He is ready and waiting on the bed with his book. He‘s wearing shorts, a T-shirt and his
boots.
―I forgot to bring beach shoes,‖ he says. ―Maybe we can go shopping when we make port
later.‖ He asks me to put his book, Lonesome Dove, in my tote, then gives me his wallet too.
On our walk to the buffet we note that the deck chairs are nearly all taken. Jim spots two on
the upper level, completely exposed to the sun, undesirable because they‘re a staircase away from the
pool.
―Betcha they‘ll be gone by the time we finish breakfast,‖ he says grabbing two towels and his
book from my tote. I watch as he runs up the stairs, the noise from his boots clamoring on the
metal resonating across the deck, calling attention to himself. He spreads a towel on each chair and
anchors one with his book. People by the pool snicker at the man in cowboy boots but Jim doesn‘t
seem embarrassed or show that he‘s noticed them. To me, he looks handsome and for the first time
I feel my nervousness ebb slightly at the sight of him making an effort—partly, at least—for my
comfort.
We‘re just in time for the tail end of breakfast. We fill our plates with eggs, bacon, pancakes
and toast. The dining area is nearly empty and we have no trouble finding a table.
―I wonder what they do with all the leftover food,‖ I say as I unroll the silverware from its
napkin.
―Recycle it,‖ he says taking a mouthful of eggs. ―I‘ll bet you‘ll find the scrambled eggs in the
fried rice this afternoon.‖
―They can‘t recycle everything,‖ I say. ―What must the waiters think of us, all the waste
Most look like Third Worlders.‖
Jim grunts. ―What do you care what strangers think Will you be seeing them again‖ I‘ve
always cared, I realize. And not just strangers. My own family, mother, sister. ―That‘s the nice
thing about going away,‖ he says. ―You can do anything you want and no one will be around next
week to remember.‖ He cleans the last bits of eggs and bacon from his plate and rises. His pancakes
are left, untouched.
―I‘ll meet you outside,‖ he says. ―I want to make sure no one takes those chairs.‖ He grabs
his mug and walks away. Within minutes, a young waiter—Vietnamese-- comes by and gathers up
Jim‘s plate of half eaten food. I take my time eating and wrap what‘s left of my toast in a napkin
before joining Jim.
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