Bump by Diana Wagman

Author:Diana Wagman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: literary, comedy, relationships, los angeles, crash, awardwinning
Publisher: Foreverland Press

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

"Let me show you something," Steve said.

They were lying in his bed with the covers pulled up. His arm was around her. Madelyn's head was on his chest. She laughed. "You've shown me enough for one day."

"This is something else."

He turned away from her and she felt the shock of the rest of her life. Without his skin touching hers, the world burst back into the room. She looked at the clock. She should leave. The kids, her kids, would be home. She had to make lunch and wrap a birthday gift. There was still laundry in the dryer from yesterday. It would be so wrinkled. She should stop and get milk on the way home.

Steve leaned over the edge of the bed and brought up a large picture book. It had no cover; she couldn't see the tide. There were papers sticking out of it. He sat up and put the book on his lap. She sat up next to him. Her legs, her fat legs that she hated, made two long, wide, burial mounds under the comforter. On his side, the comforter was smooth. She pulled her legs up, curved them one way, then the other, finally sat up very straight and crossed them, Indian style.

He opened the book. "What is it?"

"A book of epitaphs. You know, the things people write on their tombstones. "

Madelyn looked at Steve. His face was shining, happy, excited as he paged through the book looking for his favorites. She rubbed her cheek against his bare shoulder. His skin was cool and smooth. She didn't want to read other people's tombstones. It made her stomach hurt to think of dying now.

"May I read to you?"

"Well—"

"You read it, for yourself." He handed the book to her. She needed her glasses, but she was not getting out of bed, naked, and getting them out of her purse in front of her much younger lover. She handed the book back.

"I just meant—the time—I should go."

The light went from his face. He took the book from her and closed it.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I—"

"Of course."

She waited for him to turn to her, to say something more. He pushed the book off his lap. He turned away, lifting his body with his arms, putting his back to her. She leaned toward his back, but stopped.

"Steve," she said again. "What?"

"Never mind."

She threw back the covers and stood up. She picked up her underpants and her bra. She sat down on the edge of the bed again to put on her underpants. When she spread her legs she got a warm, wet whiff of sex. She blushed and turned, but he was wrapping his stumps.

They sat back to back on opposite sides of the bed. Like old married people, she thought. As if their bodies held no allure, no fascination anymore. The same old, same old. After enough time, even Steve would be familiar. But not in a bad way. She slipped her silly summer dress over her head.

"Well," she said as she stood up.

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