If you nourished your sexual life with all the excitements and adventures which love injects into sensuality, you would be the most potent man in the world. The source of sexual power is curiosity, passion. . . . Sex does not thrive on monotony. Without feeling, inventions, moods, no surprises in bed. Sex must be mixed with tears, laughter, words, promises, scenes, jealousy, envy, all of the spices of fear, foreign travel, new faces, novels, stories, dreams, fantasies, music, dancing, opium, wine.
. . .
There are so many minor senses, all running like tributaries into the mainstream of sex, nourishing it. Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy."
-Anais Nin, from her letter to an anonymous client
"You don't seem to understand, this isn't my child, what kind of untrained, shit for brains government employee leaves a child with a strange man? I'm not taking her anywhere, you're taking her now."
He is scary.
Standing a million feet tall, bare feet, black denim and messy hands with a cigarette smoldering somewhere up in the atmosphere around his head; she is too scared to look that far up. It looks like blood.
He is going to eat her, and Bear!
No, she won't let him eat Bear.
( You ARE the father. Fuck you, Maury )
It's alright, he's getting better.
After the run, there is swimming and time out of the house doing random errands and seeing random friends. By the time that she gets back Salome is exhausted and falls asleep sprawled out on the rug with the puppy, cell phone in hand, pretty much a standard practice with any teenager born.
Usually she is more on point, but she is exhausted and didn't even think about where her father and Delilah might be. Sometimes, it's like ships passing in the night with them.
They had a look in their little plastic eyes that spoke to her of how happy and pretty she could be if only she possessed them.
Oh she wanted those little plastic gems. Those beautiful and alluring faces that hung amongst all the other junk on the rack.
At that age she wasn't fully aware of the fact that a person needed money in order to buy things, she was aware that she needed to give them to mama in order to have mama give them back to her. She was also aware that mama didn't like it when she handed her things when they were in a store. Something about it all being garbage and they were broke.
Sally had no idea what is broken but they were it lot and that usually meant that they had to have chips for dinner and that mom went out with boys later that night.
Frustration and want gnawed on her little brain, such indecision. It's not that she had ever been told right from wrong, not that she had those concepts down yet, but something just felt mildly off about her taking that dangling treasure.
But she wanted. Wanted so very badly.
And that want wont out over anything else that might have been whispering in her ear or chewing on her brain and she slipped the little clips into the pockets of her shorts before creeping out of the store, clinging to Bear for dear life.
It was dark and quiet when she was alone in her mama's trailer and could finally have some alone time in the bathroom to savor and appreciate her treasure. Climbing up on the little counter she used the yellow gold light from the parking lot lamps to see what she was doing in the mirror.
Scooping some slowly blonding hair back she snapped in one of the hair clips. First one side and then the other. Studying herself in the mirror she tilted one way then the other to get both profiles.
The loveys were dark in the dim light of the trailer, she could still see their plastic forever smiles, but they look a bit more sinister for some reason.
They were hers though now, forever and ever, and no one could take them, she was sure of that. No matter what they would be with her and she would keep them safe, like Bear, she kept Bear safe and he kept her safe in return.
Another study of profile and she finally smiled a little.
Un-clipping them she put them back on their flimsy plastic board and went back to her tucked away bed, behind the flimsy accordion style trailer door, happy.
The muted blare of TVs playing that nightly sporting event, from basketball to baseball on those 24 inch 1999 throw backs bolted to the wall with the idea that they'd never become irrelevant.
The Friday night hangout of both the middle aged and the teenage crowd. There is something ketchy about chilling at the bowling alley, stealing pulls of cigarettes in the yellow lit parking lot, trying to con drinks from the bartender or some drunk old guy who doesn't give a fuck if you're 21 years old or not.
Two games down, bowling shoes rockin', sippin' on some ginger ale, she leans against a juke box with all the "oldies" for her to pick from.
B7 - King Harvest "Dancing on the Moonlight."
And she takes her and her drink to the group of her giggling friends that take a break from their game of pool in order to dance it up 1973 style.
He sleeps a lot, even during the day!
Doesn't he know only babies nap? Guess not.
Wee Salome learned at a tender age not to make too much noise, well, ever. Not that she was ever a very loud child but it was easily apparent even to her that loud noises weren't something enjoyable around the house. Outside was fine, but inside she had to be quiet.
It's really, really, really, hard to be quiet. Really, really, really, really, really hard. Especially when there is nothing to do.
Bear ear between her teeth she does a slow crawl up to the couch and slowly, or as slowly as she can manage, inch up to peer over the edge of the cushion at her dad. It's all in the eyes, if he opens his eyes then he is not asleep and she can climb up with him and try and get him to do something. Or at least put a different video in.
She isn't allowed to play with the VCR. Any more.
Taking the bear from her teeth she lifts it as well and lets it's floppy little legs dangle over his arm and up to his chest till Richard Vasko is nose to muzzle with stuffed bear face.
WAKEY WAKEY MOTHERFUCKER.
There was almost a feeling as if jealousy wouldn't be the issue but doing or saying something stupid would be. After their vacation in Virginia, Salome found herself a bit more confident in their relationship. She was his, and he was hers, there would ever be a way for that to change. You can't change blood, DNA, what they had.
Not to mention it all going down on a Saturday when all she would rather do is lay about and be lazy, spending a majority of the day in her pajamas.
Not that she isn't in her pajamas now, sprawled out on the couch with head phones in. Waiting.
Not that this woman is her mom, but she did give birth to her and that should be recognized in some way, another thing that Sal found herself anxious about.
She is going to throw up.
Sweaty palms, stomach in knots, yeah, this was going to be a pleasant sit down meal. How could she be so easy and confident with her father but impossibly upset at the idea of meeting this stranger? The whole idea of being rejected, that she would be looked at and passed over, again by this woman who she desperately wants approval from. Her father's love is sealed inside of her, even if she sometimes questioned it. This is different.
Perched on the edge of a hotel chair, head in her hands she stared at her toes, trying to will herself to take deep breaths and not freak out. There is no reason why this should be so fucking hard.
She is drinking a bottle of water, leaning against the railing, watching the brown blue of the waves crash along the sand and sweep it out into infinity. The only thing that she is anxious about is getting started, and she tends to hurry, hurry. Things will slow down soon enough. A look back over her shoulder at the bed and the little hotel room.
What a birthday.
It took Salome awhile to catch on, Susan can be subtle when she wants, and there was a certain bitter sadness when she put two and two together. She didn't want to really hear about her boring day, she just wanted to hear about Richard. At this point Salome has long stopped caring about her mother. The reason why she is a daddy's girl is out of necessity, without him no one would pay any attention to her.
Her reaction to Delilah would probably have not been so violent if there was a more evenness in her life. Oh well.
Whatever, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a soda she just doesn't want to have to answer any questions about the recent appearance of bite marks on her skin. God damn, you'd think the girls on the swim team had never seen a fucking hicky before.
School, home, practice, homework, some lesson, some other extra circular activity on the day planner. It has been like this ever since she could remember. There isn't ever a whole lot of down time. At some point she decided that she was a shark, any stopping would mean she would completely die.
Or something equally dramatic.
Shutting the front door with her hip, she drops her back pack near the front door and continues further into the house, tossing her gym bag into the laundry room without much of a thought before stepping into the kitchen to find food. Yes, food, there must be something because she is starving.
Headphones in, ipod on, inner debating warring on if she should even bother starting her homework now or waiting for study hall.
By the end of '09 I want a salome in every state of the union. huzzah.
- Salome is _____.
- Salome likes to ______.
- I want to _____ Salome.
- Salome can ______.
- Someday Salome will ______.
- Salome reminds me of ______.
- Without Salome, it would be _____.
- Right now, I bet Salome is thinking about _____.
- Salome makes me want to _______.
- If I could spend the day with Salome, I'd _____.
- Salome is made of _______.
- If I could be Salome for a day, I'd ______.
- Salome's alter-ego is __________.
- I want to give Salome ______.
If I keep up this way
And it's hard to want to stay awake.
It was stupid walking home after partying all night. It was stupid to wave off any escort that slurred drunkenly in her ear that they would make sure she got home safe.
It was stupid to be too drunk and too stoned to realize that bad people were following her after she passed the mouth of an alley. It was stupid not to take that cab.
The whole night was just stupid. God protects babies, and sometimes fools. Unfortunately Salome had pressed her luck in that department.
They only took her purse, they only took her ipod and cell phone. Then her shoes, then her coat. Because that's all they wanted, the material things. Of course that didn't stop them from having a little fun.
That's when the night stopped being stupid and turned down right painful. It would have been shorter, if she would have screamed, but years of training had taught her to remain silent while receiving beatings. Dad didn't like screams and so she bit the inside of her cheek until she could taste blood.
It was a group of drunk club goers that startled the boys that were using the blond as a punching bag. The boys ran off and Salome laid very still, collecting herself until she heard the voice of some girl above her.
"Oh my gawd! There is like, someone here! Carlos, call like the cops. Sweetie are you like, okay?" Like. Like. Like. Like. Die bitch.
The word 'cops' got her going. That was not good, cops would mean parents, and parents would mean dad and that scared her more then a bunch of gang bangers fucking her up. Grabbing the brick wall she hauled herself to her feet and lunged forward, pushing away from the group that had gathered around her. Moving forward was good, going home was better. Home she could wash up and take care of herself.
Where was home?
Sagging against a wall she shuddered and wrapped an arm around her stomach before she heaved and threw up her liquid dinner and broke down crying. She could cry here, there wasn't anyone to scream at her for it. Moments of weakness were allowed in private.