Powers by Deborah Lynn Jacobs

Author:Deborah Lynn Jacobs
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626723801
Publisher: Roaring Brook Press

SUNDAY, JANUARY 26

Adrian

In the morning, I call Melissa.

“Hey, Handsome,” she says. “How’s it going?”

“Great,” I answer. “Are you free tonight? Pizza and a movie?”

“What about Gwennie?”

The way she says Gwennie bugs me, but then I think, what’s Gwen to me now?

“We were never really together,” I say. “So, I’ll pick you up at six?”

“Okay. Let me give you directions.” She doesn’t ask which show we’ll see. There’s only one movie theater in town. Only one show.

I spend a boring day at the funeral home, listening for the phone, cleaning, sweeping a light dusting of snow off the steps. My parents call once from Winnipeg, to check in. I tell them it’s been quiet. No new clients. Just me, alone with my thoughts.

Every time I think about Gwen, I want to smash my fist through a wall. So I don’t think about her.

I drive home, put whitening strips on my teeth, shower, shave, slap on pit juice and cologne, rinse my contacts and put them back in, remember to remove the whitening strips, and then brush, floss, and gargle. I dress in black jeans and a black sweater, and head back to town.

As soon as I pull up at Melissa’s house, she’s out the door, down the drive, and in my car.

“You look great,” I tell her.

“Thanks. You, too.” Did I put my diaphragm in my purse?

I hide my smile as she checks her purse. She remembered.

At the restaurant, we barely talk. She’s mostly thinking about how good we look together. I’m mostly thinking about getting laid.

She visits the restroom while I pay the bill. I happen to glance over into a booth and see Jo and Conrad sitting together. What? They’d broken up, so what was he doing with her? I want to go over and ask. Maybe pound him in the face while I’m asking. But Melissa returns, links her arm through mine, and the opportunity passes.

When we get to the theater, I ask Melissa where she’d prefer to sit.

“Anywhere,” she says.

I touch her thoughts. She likes the back row, in the double seat. The make-out seat. Fine with me. We get comfortable, my arm around her, her head resting on my shoulder. With my free hand, I stroke her hair. She makes a contented humming sound and rests her hand on my leg.

I’m suddenly struck with the weirdest craving. I want an anchovy pizza. What? I hate anchovies.

Click.

Gwen. She loves anchovy pizza. Double anchovies. Her craving, not mine. She’s picking up the phone. Ordering a large.

I disconnect from her mind and put up a block. Only it doesn’t work. I still want anchovy pizza. I can’t escape. She’s in me, deep inside my mind. I can’t shake her.

I try to watch the movie. Melissa snuggles closer. I slide my hand down to brush against her breast. She murmurs, slides her hand farther up my thigh.

And then I break out laughing.

“Shhhh,” warns a girl sitting two rows down.

I laugh harder. Melissa wonders if I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.

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