Hair Side, Flesh Side by Marshall Helen

Author:Marshall, Helen [Marshall, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781927469255
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2012-11-15T05:00:00+00:00

[ fingernail ]

LINES OF AFFECTION

The first time he stepped through the threshold of the door into their tiny two-bedroom apartment, Marissa felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stiffen like cilia. It wasn’t the way he smiled at her, or even the way his right hand brushed lightly against her mummy’s back as he passed her, suitcase in hand, easy-breezy gait like he owned the place. Marissa had seen those before. Those were fine, normal even. It was the way she felt her body start to tingle, like the whole floor had become charged with static. His fingers seemed to give off tiny blue sparks when they touched her mum, and her mummy, in turn, shivered in pleasure.

Marissa’s body shivered too, until she told it to stop.

Marissa knew her mummy very well. She had to when they lived in such close proximity. But she had never seen her like this: eyes glassy, fingers twitching like she wanted to touch something—him, probably, just to rub herself all over him like a cat.

It was new, and it disgusted her.

“Marissa, darling, I want you to meet someone,” her mummy cooed.

Marissa did not move.

“You can just put that over—Marissa, this is Sampson, the one I told you about?—no, don’t worry, I’ll just hang it up.”

The stranger was taking off his jacket, and Marissa watched with a strange kind of fascination. It was a normal jacket, the kind men had been wearing to the office for years, but on him it was transformed. It whispered like silk, slid off his arms making beautiful noises until—there—it was off, and only a jacket once again. Underneath was a tan dress shirt with tiny buttons, dark as mahogany. She wanted to rub her fingers along them, to slip the little nubs through the thread-lined slits and—pop!—there it would go, one, two, three, all the buttons through, and that shirt slipping off after the jacket. She wanted to . . . she wanted to . . .

Marissa shrunk away through the doorway.

Her mummy was already turning away from her, distracted. Her mouth hung open in mid-sentence. Marissa couldn’t remember what she’d been saying. Then her mouth closed, and her mummy touched the stranger’s wrist.

“I’ll just let you fetch dinner yourself, shall I, sweetie pie?” her mummy murmured. “I’ve got to—we need to . . .”

She didn’t finish the sentence. Her mummy turned her head, and met the stranger’s eyes. She smiled and electricity seemed to wind around the two of them like a Tesla coil.

Marissa said nothing.

In a moment, the two of them had slipped up the stairs.

Marissa stood in the doorway, clutching the frame until her knuckles were white, and she could feel the shape of it imprinting itself in her flesh.

Upstairs, she could hear the sound of a door closing, and then, after a few minutes, the sounds she hated hearing most.

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