Between Lovers by Eric Jerome Dickey Page A

of her, never wanted anything that would make her solid in my mind. Wanted her to fade into the night. Never wanted her to become real. The thought of her is as solid as smoke, and that’s more than enough.
    I ask Nicole, “What’s the most extreme sexual thing you’ve done since you’ve been here?”
    â€œBeing with her. Never planned on being in this situation.”
    â€œOutside of that. Outside of her.”
    â€œThis is Oakland and San Francisco. It’s just as wild as Paris up here.”
    â€œOther women?”
    â€œNope. Just her.”
    â€œOther men?”
    â€œYour penis is the penis I adore.”
    â€œThat’s cute, but not an answer.”
    She falls into silence.
    I say, “Truth or truth.”
    â€œSure you want to go there?” She sighs. “You have condoms in your travel kit. Maybe I should be asking you about other women.”
    â€œWhat do you expect me to do while you’re living with some bitch?”
    â€œShe’s not a bitch. What you said is not nice. When you insult her, it insults me.”
    â€œPardon my insensitivity. You fucking anybody?”
    â€œApologize.”
    â€œYou fucking anybody?”
    â€œApologize.”
    â€œI apologize. You fucking anybody?”
    She doesn’t answer.
    I rephrase the question, “Are you having sex with anyone else?”
    â€œMaybe I should be asking you what are you doing out on the road. You heard me the first time. Don’t think I never notice the condoms you have in your luggage.”
    We’ve put each other in check. Serious check.
    She says, “I know why you don’t use a condom with me.”
    â€œDo you?”
    â€œI’m not stupid. You want to get me pregnant.”
    â€œDunno. Maybe I do.”
    â€œEven if you did, that won’t change anything, sweetie.”
    The clicks and whirrs from her thoughts grow, her lips move, getting ready to articulate something that is difficult to bring to the table. Stress lines bloom in her face.
    I say, “When was the last time you were tested?”
    â€œDecember first. AIDS awareness day.”
    â€œSame for me. What about your friend?”
    â€œSame day. We went together.”
    Silence.
    I rub my palms together; massage my hand with my hand.
    She asks, “What are you thinking?”
    â€œThinking about how when people move away from all they know, they either become something remarkable or something undesirable.”
    â€œWhich do you think I am?”
    I take a hard breath. “What you’re asking, it’s not... not...”
    â€œNormal?” Her eyes are dry but tears dampen her voice. “Normal, normal, fucking normal.”
    With measured calmness I say, “I wasn’t going to say that. Maybe I was.”
    â€œWho in the hell gets to define what’s normal?”
    â€œSociety. The majority defines normality, you know that.”
    â€œI’ve been living my life according to my mother’s rules—”
    â€œHow did you mother get in this?”
    â€œShe always made me go to this school, that college, this guy isn’t the right complexion for you, that guy isn’t good enough for you, that one isn’t from the right family, do this, do that. Always feeding into their definition of who they wanted me to be because of my fear of rejection. Fear is a bitch.”
    She takes a breath, slows herself down.
    She whispers, “I did so many things for you because I was afraid of being rejected by you, know that? If you love me, you’ll suck my dick. Yep, better suck the wee nie or he won’t love me. If you love me, you’ll let me come in your mouth. Well, better let him come in my mouth, or he won’t love me. Better swallow, because his last girlfriend did, and if I don‘t, he won’t love me. Better let him get his anal sex groove on, or he won’t love me.”
    â€œNicole. Stop.”
    â€œHow many times