Sam the Cat by Matthew Klam

Author:Matthew Klam [Klam, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-76598-7
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2010-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

LYNN AND I have a normal sex life. Whatever that means. Sex is never normal with anyone, it’s bizarre, it’s wiggly meats, but Lynn was a virgin when we met. And then a couple of months went by, and we were invited to her parents’ for Christmas.

We drove from Colorado to Ohio. It’s twenty-two hours by car. You know how it is when you go on a road trip—you’re going to a new place together. After five or six hours, the inside of the car smelled like BO; my ass began to hurt; my legs felt like concrete; there were sunflower seeds all over the floor. More miles, and soon we were spitting the shells on each other. Two o’clock in the morning, shit-bag road stop, I’m buying cigarettes in Michigan. Lynn’s standing next to me in a pink pajama top and jeans, sunflower-seed shells in her hair, which is all sticking up in knots in the back from her sleeping on it. She gave me two candy fireballs; her hand was warm and clammy. Outside, no cars passed by. It was silent. It wasn’t particularly cold for December. There was the gas station and then nothing for miles.

We stood in the unfamiliar light of the store in the middle of nowhere, lost. It was at about that time that I felt anything could happen. Me and my girlfriend, Lynn, on our first road trip together. When you’re twenty-three, a road trip is the highlight of your life. I held on to her hand. It’s the same person, and she’s great, but she seemed different all of a sudden, three-dimensional. Like a person you’ve just met for the first time and would like to get to know. As we drove off, the car went over a speed bump and out of the corner of my eye I saw Lynn’s boobs shake.

They put me in the guest room in the basement. The room had white wicker furniture and green-and-silver jungle wallpaper. Mold in the squishy rug. We’d packed our clothes into the same suitcase, and as I dug through it for my contact-lens holder I came across a bunch of Lynn’s underwear. I took a pair out and held them up to the light, weightless flowered cotton panties. They had a lacy edge. They were clean and cute and smelled like powder. Eleven o’clock at night I’m sitting on the bed in the dank basement, white wicker furniture and green jungle wallpaper, the underwear crumpled against my nose and mouth, tracing swirl patterns in the stucco ceiling. I really loved her. Two floors above me my girlfriend lay sleeping, down the hall from her mother and father. I never put pressure on Lynn, for I knew that would be wrong, and yet she must’ve felt safe. We’d begun to build up trust. This is the part where Lynn loses her virginity. It was the holiday season. The stage was set.

Lunchtime, Celia had made a Mexican specialty, a casserole, a savory thing,

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