florist, but now can’t even think of being anything other than her husband’s cute little island’s best squash grower. It’s because they start as flowers, you see, that they respond to her fingers so lovingly.
The stones on our beach, they gather in folds, with underskirts of upturned shells. You want to wear your shoes to walk on those, too, on account of the more delicate parts will snap off the heavy twisted hearts and then both ends end up wanting to slice your foot open. And beaches are dirty so you could get infected real easy.
Anywho, the shells clatter over themselves as you walk, and I like it. I’ll tell Andrew about it if he takes me for a walk here one day. I’ll tell him how it’s like the dances the little girls do in tons of jewelry and dresses all covered with tons of shells. The whole ones that we hunt out and save from being stepped on the day before a performance, and spend all night sewing on for them.
Sometimes, the shells, when they’re all laying out at low tide, they remind me of the thumbprints of a whole host of angels, or maybe ghosts. Dusted and swept up against God’s dustpan, and that’s why they’re in little lines like that. I probably won’t tell Andrew that.
We move through the crowd. People smile at me and pat me, and I duck my head and smile back.
Yes, I am very excited to meet Andrew. Thank you, it’s Eleni’s dress, she lent it to me for today. Hi, it was so sweet of you to come. The wedding will be this fall, once we both finish our certifications. Yes, Andrew went to a military academy, too. I know, isn’t that funny? He was in communication-broadcasting, so he was on the military campus. Yes, an officer. Not Long Island, Upstate. Yes, it would be difficult to have him working in the same lab as me, he he.
There’s more but it’s making me uncomfortable so I pretend to be cutely distracted by the huge boat that’s docking in front of us and leave them all to talk about me to each other.
I know I’m nervous because my jaw is clenched and even in the sundress I’m steaming. I keep having to remind myself that the ground is one way and the sky the other because they keep trying to switch places on me. Which is annoying.
We come to a halt on the main dock. My zizi is fidgety and keeps clearing her throat. Eleni sighs and lets go of my arm because we’re both starting to sweat where we’re touching.
The crew of this Andrew’s boat tosses ropes to some of my uncles and I start having heart palpitations. Christ, what a boat. I believe it should be called a yacht, if I remember my lessons correctly. It’s sleek and smooth, and huge.
I feel weird when I think it will be mine.
I feel the blood switching places in my body haphazardly, and forefathers, that’s panic. Shoot, shoot, shoot. I can’t stop it so I just hang on to my zizi tighter and she holds my arm tighter still.
An automated staircase unfolds and there are gasps and whispers from all around us. We all watch it form itself, step by step, so quiet.
Then a door slips open from somewhere above, and there are people at the railings. We see the tops of their heads and I hear the chatter swell. A man in a black suit and sunglasses comes down the stairs, followed by another man just like him. By the time they spill out the bottom, I can’t tell them apart anymore.
A blaring noise comes from the boat and I bite my tongue. What the hell was that? It has a pattern. Ah, music. I’m way too tense.
There is music playing from somewhere on the ship. Now people are really talking loud, getting to say things they couldn’t before because this noise covers it up, or maybe they’re just trying to be heard over it.
The stones on our beach, they gather in folds, with underskirts of upturned shells. You want to wear your shoes to walk on those, too, on account of the more delicate parts will snap off the heavy twisted hearts and then both ends end up wanting to slice your foot open. And beaches are dirty so you could get infected real easy.
Anywho, the shells clatter over themselves as you walk, and I like it. I’ll tell Andrew about it if he takes me for a walk here one day. I’ll tell him how it’s like the dances the little girls do in tons of jewelry and dresses all covered with tons of shells. The whole ones that we hunt out and save from being stepped on the day before a performance, and spend all night sewing on for them.
Sometimes, the shells, when they’re all laying out at low tide, they remind me of the thumbprints of a whole host of angels, or maybe ghosts. Dusted and swept up against God’s dustpan, and that’s why they’re in little lines like that. I probably won’t tell Andrew that.
We move through the crowd. People smile at me and pat me, and I duck my head and smile back.
Yes, I am very excited to meet Andrew. Thank you, it’s Eleni’s dress, she lent it to me for today. Hi, it was so sweet of you to come. The wedding will be this fall, once we both finish our certifications. Yes, Andrew went to a military academy, too. I know, isn’t that funny? He was in communication-broadcasting, so he was on the military campus. Yes, an officer. Not Long Island, Upstate. Yes, it would be difficult to have him working in the same lab as me, he he.
There’s more but it’s making me uncomfortable so I pretend to be cutely distracted by the huge boat that’s docking in front of us and leave them all to talk about me to each other.
I know I’m nervous because my jaw is clenched and even in the sundress I’m steaming. I keep having to remind myself that the ground is one way and the sky the other because they keep trying to switch places on me. Which is annoying.
We come to a halt on the main dock. My zizi is fidgety and keeps clearing her throat. Eleni sighs and lets go of my arm because we’re both starting to sweat where we’re touching.
The crew of this Andrew’s boat tosses ropes to some of my uncles and I start having heart palpitations. Christ, what a boat. I believe it should be called a yacht, if I remember my lessons correctly. It’s sleek and smooth, and huge.
I feel weird when I think it will be mine.
I feel the blood switching places in my body haphazardly, and forefathers, that’s panic. Shoot, shoot, shoot. I can’t stop it so I just hang on to my zizi tighter and she holds my arm tighter still.
An automated staircase unfolds and there are gasps and whispers from all around us. We all watch it form itself, step by step, so quiet.
Then a door slips open from somewhere above, and there are people at the railings. We see the tops of their heads and I hear the chatter swell. A man in a black suit and sunglasses comes down the stairs, followed by another man just like him. By the time they spill out the bottom, I can’t tell them apart anymore.
A blaring noise comes from the boat and I bite my tongue. What the hell was that? It has a pattern. Ah, music. I’m way too tense.
There is music playing from somewhere on the ship. Now people are really talking loud, getting to say things they couldn’t before because this noise covers it up, or maybe they’re just trying to be heard over it.
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