March 21, 2022 – Photoblog

After we finished, I lay dumbfounded as usual, ready to pass out. My eyes were closed and for some unknown reason I decided to ask what her favorite movie was, which is always a 50-50 proposition when it comes to sparking good conversation. But, without giving it much thought she said:

“Hm. Death Wish, probably.”

If someone hadn’t seen the movie, no doubt they would have thought she was dropping some sort of hint, or even insult. But I had just watched it before migrating island-ward.

“The one with Bruce Willis? Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

My eyes were still closed but I felt her slipping on her underwear from beneath the blanket.

“Okay, you can’t just leave it at that. I need some elaboration.”

“Sometimes,” she started, dropping her head back onto the pillow, “someone common needs to do what the world refuses to do for itself. Like you.”

“Me?”

“Your parents decided there weren’t enough Byron’s in the world and realized they needed to act. See?”

I could tell she was watching me but it still didn’t stop me from smiling.

“Wow. That was cold. I’m speechless.”

She laughed. “I don’t know, the emotion of it. Bruce was so sad in that movie, he-“

“Bruce?”

“Yes, Bruce, because I can’t remember his character’s name and that’s not the point. He was sad and alone, and took matters into his own hands.”

“And you liked that.”

“Yeah, I did,” she said, innocently. After a while, she finished, “why stay a victim, you know?”

“Oh, man.”

“‘Oh, man’, what?”

“‘Why stay a victim?’ This is getting dangerously close to becoming political.”

“Should we go deeper?”

“Enjoy the movie’s message about 2nd amendment rights, did we?”

She gasped.

“What if I did?”

“No judgment here.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Because I carry a gun.”

“Choosing to rob me now would just be embarrassing, for
both of us.”

“You want to see it?”

She got up from the bed and yes, it was here when I decided my eyes should probably be open.

She walked over to the windowsill where her black clutch bag rested beside three crisp hundred dollar bills and a slightly less crisp fifty dollar bill.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I said.

“Fuckin A.” She picked up the money and looked it over for a moment before adding it to her bag.

“Thank you, by the way. This is generous.” Then she pulled out a small but terrifying pistol that looked like a sharpened spider in the dim lighting.

I sat up, stiffening slightly. Was it the gun, or the way she looked at me after taking my money? Probably both. She stood topless, key-lit by the faded blue of the moon, her face bathed in soft shadow. Her arms rose slowly and came together, pointing the tip of the sharpened spider at my bare chest.