 This story is part of a new web feature: the calendar Pinup Series. We'll be bringing you great new work online each month. —The Eds. Jesus Cake Baby
by Stephanie Austin
My boyfriend likes to get high and sit in the shower. We took a shower together for the first time the morning after our third date. I asked him to pass me the shampoo and he said, “OK, but now I’m going to sit down.” So he sat down. That was two years ago.
This morning, he leans against the back of the tub as though he’s sitting against a tree in the park on a Saturday afternoon. He rubs his face like he’s washing it, but he’s not washing it.
I look down at him. “Did you know your trash is overflowing?”
He opens his mouth to catch the water. With his eyes closed, he answers me, “Which trash? Kitchen or bathroom?”
“Bathroom.”
“I’ll take it out when we’re done.”
The getting high part happens with or without the shower. He gets high even if he skips the shower, but when he is in the shower he is always high because he is always high. He’s a wake and bake, and at least six days out of the week, he’s a wash. Wake and bake and wash.
Sometimes we’ll be making out, and he’ll sit down. Sometimes I have to shave, but he’s in the way. I didn’t want to go to the place where I would ask him to hold my foot or let me prop my leg up on his shoulder. He sits if I’m not there or if I am there. I used to try to get out before it happened. He would start shifting around, getting ready to sit, and suddenly I would be struck with the need to brush my teeth, and I would say, it’s been great showering with you, but now I have to go. Jesus, my boyfriend likes to get high and sit in the shower.
It’s not a conversation with Jesus. I’m not calling out to Jesus. Jesus is just a word. It’s a word that is used in anger or exasperation or unconscious thinking. Yes, it’s a commandment, and yes, it’s broken.
* * *
Today I am menstruating. It’s five days early. It happened overnight in my nice, black Victoria Secret panties with seams that will split if I continue to eat the way I do.
At work there is always a megaload of calories in the break room: bagels, pastries, and cookies. Once, someone brought in mini chocolate chip pancakes. They were tiny, and they fit in your palm.
An email announcement goes out to the office: Food. Cake. Hey y'all, there’s a King Cake in the kitchen. Enjoy! Enjoy comes with an exclamation point. We have to exclaim our enjoyment.
Depending on who sends the email, there could be a Billy Joel theme. The subject could read: I’m in love with an uptown King Cake. The email could read: Tired of living in your white bread world? Your downtown man has put a King Cake in the kitchen.
Jesus.
*American Short Fiction does not intend to objectify or demean these stories with use of the term pinup; our intention is to give our readers full exposure to great writing.
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