Desert Flowers by Paul Pen

Author:Paul Pen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2017-08-07T22:00:00+00:00

A gecko on the ceiling of the porch caught a mosquito with its tongue. On the ground, a mouse fled from the menacing rustle of a bush, scampering along the sand, dodging cacti and other spiny plants. The moonlight gave the rocks a silvery quality and the sand a metallic color that transformed the desert into a galactic landscape.

Iris pulled Rick’s dirty T-shirt out from under the mattress. She breathed through it. Mom had just asked her to lock her door from the inside. She lay on the bed hugging the garment, which had dried completely but preserved his smell. She stroked the wall with the tips of her fingers, imagining herself closer to him. Between this room and Melissa’s was the twins’ bedroom, but she could ignore it in her mind and dream that she was touching a wall that Rick could touch on the other side. He would feel her energy through the partition, and it would ease his pain. She was certain that if they both placed their hands on the wall, without seeing each other they could superimpose their fingers precisely, guiding themselves only by the attraction of their skin.

The line of light under the bedroom door disappeared. Mom and Dad must’ve turned off the light in their bedroom. Iris waited. With her eyes closed, she enjoyed the feel of the wall, imagining it was Rick’s body. She prolonged the fantasy for fifteen minutes. Twenty. Then she got up and hid the T-shirt under the sheet. She pressed her ear against the door.

Silence.

She turned the lock, avoiding the slightest click. As she opened the door, every tiny squeak of the hinges seemed to her like a clangor that would wake the whole family, but her parents’ breathing remained constant. If she got a little closer to Melissa’s bedroom she would also hear Rick breathing, perhaps smell his aroma escaping through the cracks around the door. She opened the door just enough to squeeze out, pressing her breasts against the edge of the wood. She stood with just the tips of her toes on the floor, keeping contact to a minimum. The third floorboard she trod on creaked harshly.

“Iris?” Dad’s voice sounded as firm as it did at any other time of day. “Iris, is that you?”

She hunched her shoulders, motionless, not knowing what to do. She kept her balance on tiptoes, her toes tense against the floor.

“Iris,” Mom said.

Hearing her parents’ mattress springs, she reacted. “I was going to the bathroom.”

“Well go, then. And come right back.”

She dropped her heels and took firm steps, not caring now if the floor shook. She went into the bathroom but didn’t use it. She looked in the mirror, grimacing when she discovered a new pimple on her chin. She tried to improve her messy hair by combing it with four fingers. Then she smoothed down her eyebrows with a pinkie wet with saliva. After a while, she pulled the chain.

When she came out of the bathroom, Dad spoke from his bed.

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