Coe Review

lunged, lips first, for her mouth and, as time, space, and the cigarettes they
were holding burned to ash, he fell in love for the first time.
Despite Henry's miraculous sexual awakening, his first relationship came
to a halt at the beginning of his sophomore year. The girl was a senior, fed
up (as Henry's methods were not yet effective enough to cure the worst afflicted),
and had talked Henry into an unthinkable deed that would secure
her revenge and prove his loyalty.
One late Sunday night, Henry walked hand in hand with his lover to
the high school, where she helped him corner the school mascot, a peacock,
strangle it to death, and hang it in the front doorway of the school to the
shock and dismay of Monday's students.
The next morning as I drove to work, Henry called. I could hear in
the background a rush of wind and dull music bellowing from a car radio,
and his voice, hovering only slightly above them, was practically indiscernible.
I figured out that he was in a convertible with his new true love, that
his suitcases had been packed, and that he was headed out of town with no
particular destination.
"You're with Chloe?!"
"Yeah, why do you sound so surprised?"
"Oh, I didn't mean to. When will you be back?"
"I'll send you my new address."
"No... Henry, When will you be back?!" I hollered into the phone.
"Not coming back."
"What the fuck, Henry? What do you mean you're not coming back.
You're just leaving, for good, everything?'
"Great, isn't it?"
"What do you want me to tell everyone else?"
"Nothing. Doesn't matter."
"But you can't just..."
"Hey, sorry man, gotta go... I can't hear you. I'll call later."
I clapped the phone shut and tossed it into the passenger seat. I punched
the steering wheel. I imagined each of the girls in their own little spaces at
different places all around the city, washing their hair, driving to work, still
sleeping, teaching class, jumping for joy at the final stage of some new video
game. And Chloe, reclined in a leather passenger seat, arms folded behind
her head, a coastal breeze blowing out her hair, watching the dawn come up
at the end of some country road, fully aware of all the things surrounding
her that make her her, and thinking of Henry and Friday nights and feeling
completely real beyond her imagination.
Ben Martin 57