TWELVE YEARS AGO
Twelve years ago my aunt tells me
that my father’s life depends on the yogurt I should buy. I walk out into
the summer street and let the dust sift between my toes. In my empty
neighborhood, filled only with a summer afternoon, across the blacktop I
see a girl angrily getting away from a man who stays on the edge of the
park and mockingly calls for her to come back. Trying to forget, she turns
to me, and I show her the way. As we walk, I timidly place my hand under
her mini skirt. I don’t touch her, my hand hovers there, in the air. Only,
at one point, the tips of my fingers touch her flesh. She turns and gives
me a glance with no reaction.
I take her by the hand and lead her home. We enter the green
yard of my yellow house, with my hand under her mini skirt, and my father
and aunts on the ground floor. We enter the shadow with a smell of
basement, I lock the downstairs door, and we climb the stairs. Before me,
she enters the apartment of lukewarm air between the open doors. In the
foyer, she turns to me and, wordless, takes off her panties. Then the
T-shirt, and the bra, under which white tits come out, hemmed in by brown
skin, which other people could’ve seen too. Finally, she takes off the
brown mini skirt as well, under which I discover a cunt--hair. I look at
the cunt. She has strong legs. Sits down and spreads them. Offers her hand,
while I’m discovering her. I ride, rub my bone against the mound above her
cunt, and she is my sister, while the aunts, distressed, gather downstairs
in front of the door locked from inside with a silver aluminum key, and try
to restore me to the time twelve years ago when my father is supposed to be
dying.
