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Jacob lay in Marvin’s bed, reviewing the places he’d hidden all his most embarrassing things. The girls were staying in his room; it was the obvious choice. Both the boys’ beds were small, but Jacob had kept the bunk beds when Marvin moved out of their room, taking over the spare. This way “nobody would get any ideas.” Jacob didn’t realize what that meant until he was in bed. It made him blush furiously. They were his cousins. And besides, Clara would never agree to it. She’d probably kissed boys with tongue before. She’d probably felt their erections in the luminous dark of a movie theater. Of course Hannah was younger, and smaller. She wouldn’t know what he was doing. He imagined what it would be like to practice kissing with her. He knew you were supposed to keep your eyes closed. Hers would probably be wide open. Her lips soft, yes, but sort of wormy; rubbery, and weirdly cold. Would her tongue dart out and tickle his? She had run through the living room in only a long t-shirt before bed, and he had noticed her legs—her knees. Clara had done the same thing a moment later, headed for the bathroom. When her shirt flew up a little he closed his eyes out of politeness and immediately regretted it. She walked back to her room more slowly, glancing at him over her shoulder as if she knew what he had almost seen.
Now he had an erection. It was hot against his thigh. He had been trying and failing to masturbate for months. He could get himself to a certain point, but in the end he always had to pee, and then that was the end of it. Sometimes when he would do this his parents would start to fight in the living room and he would go sort of numb, which was the worst feeling—the good pressure between his thighs dying.
Uncle Ellis and Aunt Paula talked to each other, their voices becoming like cows as they seeped through the walls. They shared a little laugh. They turned the television on low enough they must have thought no one could hear, but the music was there, and so was the television’s high-pitched whine, the sound of a frequency dying.
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It was five days until the power would go out. Hannah’s flute woke them. Uncle Ellis followed with his fiddle, Clara with her cello, Aunt Paula with her clarinet. Uncle Ellis explained they did scales for an hour every morning before they took Hannah to school. It had not occurred to them to change their habits. Hannah’s butterfly hands flitted over the shining silver, depressing and releasing an inscrutable series of small levers. Jacob watched her play with a book in his hand, pretending he might read. There was nothing musical about it. She seemed to be going for speed. The others were quieter, more reasonable, Aunt Paula breathing very gently into her mouthpiece, Ellis and Clara barely touching the strings with their bows, only enough to confirm the placements of their fingers. She trilled; they murmured.
He said that way they didn’t have to pay for delivery, as if that made it cheap. He came back with three two-liters of soda. They used paper plates so as not to fill up the sink any further.
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Meanwhile Jacob’s father reminded his mother, drink water, drink water. She squinted and ran at the nose, dabbing intermittently at her lip with a Kleenex. The grownups’ teeth were all still spectral blue. Marvin watched the television with the volume off, mouthing dialogue as the characters flapped their lips. It was a religious program, which Jacob thought might do Marvin some good if he could hear it.
When practice was over Jacob went out to feed Dances. Hannah followed him. The dog was docile today, laying still in the dirt even as Jacob approached with the food, even as he poured it from the mug into the dog’s dish. Dances was the color of dirt, now, his thick, blond fur thoroughly corrupted with dust and dried grass clippings. Hannah watched from the edge of the back porch (cement slab, cracked in two), fussing with her hair. Jacob bent to pet the dog, watching her expression. She watched sober-eyed and wise.
“Do you want to pet him?” he said.
“No,” said Hannah. She shook her head. “I mean yes. Will he bite?”
“He won’t bite,” said Jacob. Dances was letting him do it for once, after all.
“We’re not allowed to have a dog,” said Hannah. “They make messes.”
“Dances is a good boy,” said Jacob. He motioned her closer. “He doesn’t make messes.”
Hannah came to them. Jacob took her hand and guided it along the dog’s neck, down his back, saying gentle words of encouragement. She smiled at him. He felt his heart slow perceptibly. “There,” he said, releasing her hand. “It’s easy as that.”
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Uncle Ellis spent the day buying them things. He ordered four pizzas for lunch. “You can’t worry all the time,” he said. “We’re on vacation. We want to live it up a little.” Jacob’s mother reminded him Cici’s would be less expensive but he still went for Pizza Hut. He picked it up himself. He said that way they didn’t have to pay for delivery, as if that made it cheap. He came back with three two-liters of soda. They used paper plates so as not to fill up the sink any further. After the meal he brought out a Wal-Mart bag. There was a VCR inside, still in the box. It was a Panasonic, which he said would last them longer—assuming Marvin left it alone. He also gave them a tape of Mighty Joe Young to inaugurate the player. He made low-sodium popcorn while they watched the previews.
After the movie he gave their mother a new glass to replace the one she’d broken.
She said, freeing a lock of hair from behind her ear but not chewing, “That’s very generous.” She had a wincing way of smiling every time he brought a new gift out of hiding. She would bite her bottom lip, then let it snap back into place. She would lower her eyes, and then they would roll back up to level like a slot machine twitch. Aunt Paula did a load of dishes, sifted the glass from the sink, wiped the blue spatter from the wall (but not completely; and there it would remain, like icy rust spots, until or if the walls were ever repainted).
“That’s very generous,” said Jacob’s mother with each gift. Lip, eyes, the lock of hair. Then it was bedtime. Their father went to bed early so he could make it on time to work. Hannah kept Clara up asking questions. Jacob heard them through the wall—not their contents, but the continual rise of her voice, terminating in a question mark. Up, up, up?
Continued on the next page …
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