Justine by Forsyth Harmon

Author:Forsyth Harmon [Harmon, Forsyth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tin House Books
Published: 2021-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

“This episode’s dope,” he said, gesturing toward the TV. “Calvin Johnson and Doug Martsch talk their way out of getting arrested for possession.” He didn’t get up from the bed.

“Your sister just dumped a gallon of gin into the kitchen sink.”

“Yeah, Eileen hates when Mom drinks,” he said. “Hepatocellular carcinoma.”

“What?”

“Liver cancer.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I’d drink too if I was married to the lieutenant.”

His walls were lined with CDs and cassettes organized with the precision of a retail display. I studied the spines. They were alphabetized: Black Rob, Black Sheep, Black Star—thousands of albums—Ice Cube, Ice-T, Ill Bill, Illmind. I stumbled over a skateboard and sat down by him on the bed. His pillowcases didn’t match his sheets. I felt something under my thigh. It was a book: Signifying Rappers: Rap and Race in the Urban Present. I placed it toward the foot of the bed. He flipped through channels. Stephen King got hit by a car?

“Wait,” I said. Drew Barrymore walked along a dock with a fat man.

“Don’t you know what this is? The Amy Fisher Story.”

“I think I heard Joey Buttafuoco’s a wrestler now?”

“Amy Fisher’s a porn star.”

“Really?”

He shrugged.

“I came for the tape.”

“I have it,” he said, then turned off the TV and looked at me. My body felt like it was boiling off. He stood, unbuckled his belt, and dropped his pants to the floor. His boxers were white with maroon stripes. He removed his shirt and his torso was pale, ropy, and all cut up. I mean everywhere: cuts striping the insides of his biceps, some raw, some scabby. I wanted to touch him. Something about the cuts made me realize I’d wanted to touch Ryan all this time. He was a real naked person standing there, all cut up.

I sat forward on the bed and stretched out my hand, but before it could reach him he took my wrist and pushed me down on the bed. The sheets were greasy. He took off my sneakers, my cutoffs—leaving my socks—and lay on top of me. His hair was dirty. I could feel his erection against my thigh, then inside. We looked straight at each other the whole time very seriously, not even blinking. After a while he pulled out and pressed against my pubic bone, coming on my stomach. His heart beat hard against my chest. He breathed heavy onto my neck. His ear touched mine. We lay there for a minute.

Then he slid off me and knelt on the floor. He grabbed behind my knees and pulled my pelvis to his face. He started out licking. I crossed my arms. Then it was more like he was kissing. My arms fell to my sides. I shuddered, closed my eyes, tried to hide my surprise when I came. Ryan looked up and nodded. He picked a sock up off the floor and wiped my stomach. We put our clothes back on. He handed me the cassette tape. I took it, shaky.

“Thanks,” I said, hovering at the door.

“Shut it behind you.

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