Phil Primeau


First Night

This is all when I’m younger. Maybe fifteen or so. We’re drinking warm beer at the lake same as every night. The light goes thin as dusk waxes halfheartedly across the water.

Mary takes off her shirt and pants. Her pants take a minute to pull down because they’re already wet from splashing around in the shallows. She wades in and I follow. Everything is soft at dusk and red-brown beautiful.

Mary and I touch each other in little ways to prove our affection. I once read that if humans had a mating season it would be during winter, but I think that’s wrong. It would be late August.

She can tell that I’m happy and asks to get out and walk a little. When we’re alone she speaks.

“I really love nights like this.”

I ruin the moment by telling her that she has a leech on her tit. She makes me pull it off. We’re closer now. I notice that her left eyebrow is over-plucked. It wasn’t like that the day before.

It’ll be two more hours before we come together.

 
 
 
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