SandScript 2021

Another divorce. Something called an annulment. Another move. Another
apartment. Back to the same complex as before, though, and even closer to Kyoto this
time.
Not all of our furniture had arrived yet and I lay on just a mattress with my mother,
the full morning sun flashing across my closed eyes, urging me to wake for the day. That
and the sound of humming from my mother’s vibrator.
I closed my eyes, hoping to fall back asleep. I shifted my weight, to alert her. To
stop her.
I pressed my ear into the bed. To mute the buzzing. To block the thoughts. The
pillows hadn’t even arrived, yet. But the vibrator had.
I lay.
I waited.
I fondled the pages of the Hello Kitty book inside my pajama pocket. I carried it
with me no matter where I went, the cover no longer pristine, its pages bent and mounted
by dirt. I dreamt of living between the pages, erect in its world, any world other than my
own. The sharp edges of paper tickled my fingertips as I flicked them into rhythm, a silent
feathering of the pages that went Prrrup, Prrrup, against my skin.
Finally, silence. Finally, I was dismissed.
I walked to Kyoto’s. I was eager to be in the warmth of her home. The kitchen that
always bubbled with pots of food. Faces that were always happy to see me. No words
were ever exchanged, just many nods and smiles. But it was acceptance, the only kind I
had.
I pulled my fist up and knocked on the door. A man opened it. I had never seen
him before.
“Kyoto?” I asked.
He looked down at me and nodded, caressing his hand along the air between us,
coaxing me in. The look in his eyes scared me. I wanted to turn and leave. Immediately.
But I needed to see Kyoto. When I was with her, I could pretend I was like her. Happy.
Simple. Normal. I thrust my hand into my pocket to touch the cover of the book.
Kyoto came from around the corner.
Today she didn’t look happy. It seemed like I had interrupted something. Like she
didn’t want me there.
Today she wasn’t simple. She was wearing lipstick, the color of fire and candied
apples, shocking against the innocence of her snow white skin.
Today nothing about her was normal. She was wearing very short shorts. A lace
halter top that showed the white of her stomach.
She kept pulling at the hem of the short shorts. But they didn’t move.
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