Kit reeled at the chill of his casual shift away from her; how could he leave her after the day they’d had? Who would he rather be with? Had she done something wrong? The rejection smacked her like a toxin, noxious and systemic. The sun disappeared, and in an instant, the glow of moments before became the faded purples and grays of an old bruise. Manny restarted the engine and a musk of gasoline and motor oil surrounded them. He tipped his cowboy hat.
The rage set in like a centrifuge, spinning hot blood outward to Kit’s extremities. Before she knew what she was doing, she had swung through the open window and punched him in the nose. He hunkered down, and she opened the door and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He pushed her skidding onto her ass, but she was up and lunging for him before he’d even gotten out of the car. He swiped, she dodged and then kneed him in the groin, and he crumpled to the pavement moaning. She kicked him in the ribs and soft organs, screaming on impact. How could he build her up, let her feel big and important and strong, when he was just going to toss her aside? Even now, she was incapable of revealing the words she wanted to say. What about me?
Manny got to his feet and folded Kit over his shoulder as she thrashed, nearly bringing them both to the ground. He kicked the motel door in and slammed her down on the bed, pinning her at the wrists and thighs like an insect. His face, studded with sweat and grit, hovered an inch from hers. Kit felt equally compelled to kill him and to surrender. His expression moved from confusion to outrage, and finally something Kit couldn’t place but recognized deep in her core. Her whole body pounded like the beckoning beat of a drum, and she knew the feeling now, a feeling familiar as her shadow: hunger. Active hunger. The hollowness, the wanting, the urge to stuff. Tired of never having enough, she wanted everything right now, all of him and all at once.
He kissed her, sucked her lip between his teeth and bit until it bled; she pushed her tongue into his warm, lemony mouth. Manny skinned her tank top over her head and went for her jeans, but she kneed him into the dresser, furious. He rebounded and snagged a thick handful of her hair, lifting her off the bed, pinning her to the wall.
“You think you want this,” he said, gruff in her ear. “But once we start—”
“I know,” she said, but all she knew was that loving him like this was what it would take to keep him.
“You have no idea. You have no fucking clue,” he said. There was a bitterness, maybe fear, in his voice that startled her. But everything had already changed. There was no returning to before. The way he looked at her now, desperate and scared, was worth the innocence lost. Someone who needed her that much would never leave.
Then they were in it, the meat of it all. Pushing, mashing, their skins and smells, a blind and vicious grasping, lungs outstretched, muscles hot and wrapped around each other. Kit felt like she was fighting for her life. Her body was responding, like it knew something she didn’t, but her heart was confused. She kept looking for the blue of his eyes, as if they would guide her through the shadows, but he was somewhere she could not follow. She hated him for going away, even now, and dug her nails into the back of his neck as hard as she could. For a moment, quick and sweet, she found him. He saw her there and seemed to her alert, the wrinkles around his eyes smoothed as he caught his breath. She wanted to cry for the relief, to stop and be wrapped in his arms. But soon he was lost again and the light in his eyes went out, so swiftly she questioned whether she had imagined it. What followed was both intense and unconscious, a thrashing dream that seemed to go on for hours and when it was suddenly over, she lay there soaked in sweat, wondering what had happened.
Manny rolled away from her, farther than she liked, and slept and she was alone with the sounds. The toilet running, cattle groaning in the distance, someone scooping ice from the dispenser one floor down. The shame seeped in like car sickness and she crossed the room to hang her head in the toilet just in case. She drooled into the bowl, didn’t vomit but wished she could. Then she dressed and left Manny facedown and huffing in heavy sleep.
It was late and more lonesome than usual with the new moon void of light. She pushed a quarter into the pay phone on the sidewalk by their motel and called the number Red had left her. The phone rang so long she was about to hang up when Red picked up sounding groggy.
“Uh-huh? What-what’s wrong?” she said, her voice muffled like she was talking through her pillow. “Who died?”
“Hey, Red, did I wake you?” Kit said.
“Oh, is that you, Kit?” Red said, extra sweet. “Honey, you can wake me up anytime. What’s shakin’?”
“I guess I just had a question about . . . what you do, and stuff.”
She could hear Red sniff and sit up in bed.
“You wanna know about fuckin’?” Red said in a voice that was soft and alert.
Kit squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Well, shit, baby, where do I begin?” Red cackled and there was a click and the rush of air as she lit a cigarette.
“First off, do not let him come inside you,” she said through a breath of smoke. “He’s gonna want to. Don’t let him. Put it in your mouth, put it in your butt, I don’t give a damn. But do not. Let him. Put it up your chacha.”
Kit laughed a little. She tried to remember if he had, through the haze of the last few hours. There had been something warm and sticky on her stomach after he rolled off of her that smelled of starch.
“I just don’t want to do it wrong,” Kit said.
Red exhaled into the phone so Kit got an earful of static. She held the receiver away from her ear.
“Baby, baby, lookee here. Pleasing men is as easy as putting on lipstick. Nothin’ to it. You got to worry about getting your own goodies.” Kit didn’t follow.
“You find your magic button yet?” Red said. “Little sweet spot at the top of your pussy?” Kit cringed and nodded as if Red could see her. “You get you some canola oil and some Barry White and play with that fucker till you arch your back and dig holes in the bed with your toes and your limbs feel like rubber that’s been sitting in the sun. Everyone knows how to screw, but you gotta find that good feeling for yourself. Cause no man in Texas knows how to give it to you if you don’t tell him first. And I should know,” Red said, thumbing her lighter for a fresh one. “Cause, baby, I fucked ’em all.”
Kit’s heart cooled. Red made it sound so simple, but she was describing something completely different from what Kit was doing with Manny. Maybe that’s how it was when sex was your business. She hoped one day to feel as relaxed and amused as Red.
Normally, Kit could at least fake nonchalance, but tonight with Manny she was totally lost. This new thing they were doing had her confused and needing him more than she ever had before. It felt like so much more was on the line. She had thought that by having sex with him she could keep him close; it had felt like a kind of power. But the power had wavered, even as he moved on top of her, and dissolved the moment he was done, and when he had rolled to the far edge of the bed, she could see this power had only been an illusion.
“Whaddya say, hon?” Red asked. “Does that help?”
“You bet,” said Kit, and she hung up the phone, went back to the room, and crawled into bed.