Dirty One by Michael Graves

Author:Michael Graves [Graves, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: gay fiction, Short Stories, Gay, Fiction
ISBN: 9780983285106
Publisher: Chelsea Station Editions
Published: 2011-09-03T14:00:00+00:00

A Snow Day

For Buki… the mega-watt star… the one who was saved… thankfully.

Sunday Morning

Cassidy was strewn across the floor. Lustered. Razzling. Her crimps fanned out like a silky pinwheel. Head-bopping, lip-syncing, she lay, awash in glitz.

Casey Kasem’s Weekly Top Forty countdown buzzed through her headphones. The Walkman thumped on ten and a pop smash boomed across radio waves. She savored the bright, candied song while her dog, Chuckles, began prancing about.

Amid beats, Cassidy stared up at the parlor’s overhead lamp. Two bulbs were burnt out. Lifeless. A graveyard of dead mayflies and Junebugs had been collected.

The DJ: “Tiffany soars up three spots on our countdown to number four. This youngster is hot, hot, hot! She’s right on the heels of Sheena Easton.”

Cassidy peeped at her parents through the open kitchen door. They were stiff, unsmiling and rock-faced too. Because they always looked as such.

Her father whipped his Folgers, adding more drops of cream. He huffed and dipped his bald head. Her mother tore through outlet flyers from the Leominster Sentinel. She was wearing a pants suit even though it was Sunday.

Casey again: “A former number one hit falls down the countdown. Who knocked this young super-group out of the top spot? Find out next!”

A commercial: “Fresher breath… Dentyne.”

Cassidy slid the knob down to three, a light whirr. And her foamy, bubbled daydreams grew limp.

“Jews!” her mother exclaimed, opening the J.C. Penney advertisement. “Forty-five dollars for a blouse! That’s ridiculous.”

Her father shrunk, stirred.

“When will you talk to Cassidy?” she asked.

“I can’t. I won’t. She’s only eleven.”

“You have to”

“Margo… come on,” he said, pulling a mango cardigan tightly around his body.

Cassidy crawled behind the sofa. She was certain of their grumblings. Her parents had discovered the stolen rouge from Brooks Pharmacy. Or Ms. Diaz had phoned about that D+. As her doom neared, she cradled Chuckles.

“Ted Johnson!” Her mother’s dusky, marmalade bob was now trembling. “Be an adult for Christ’s sake. Be a man.”

“I’m a man. I’m… ya know I am.”

“Please!”

“Ssssshhhhhh,” he hissed.

“She can’t hear us. She’s listening to the headphones.” Her heels ticked feverishly. “Have you seen the paper lately? Have you? Everyone is talking. Everyone.”

Her father inched close, swilling a deep breath. “Ya know… who cares what people say. We know the truth.”

“Suck my cunt, Ted!”

“Don’t use that word! Filthy!”

Cassidy feared punishment. She knew she’d be sentenced to her bedroom. Or her tapes and cassingles would be locked in the hallway closet again. Still, gulping down dread, she pulled herself from the floor and entered their hush.

“Hey, Sweets.” Her father grinned. “Whatcha’ doin’?”

“Nothing.”

Her mother closed the clumpy sugar bowl. “Hon… you’re father has to talk to you.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Cassidy shrieked.

“We know,” her father said. “Ya didn’t do anything.”

“Oh. Oh. What then?”

“Cass, I have something to tell ya,” he said, squatting down. “I don’t work at the mall anymore. That’s over.”

Cassidy watched him quiver. His mouth moved slow and lame as if he were swallowing a banana split spoonful. He confessed that Bradlees had asked him to leave. Because a teenage boy from Electronics had begun talking.

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