Water
Lucy wakes dry-mouthed to the sound of water. A patter on tin, echoing: the season’s first rain has come. Her bladder throbs as she climbs down. The wet thickens to a suck and slap, as if the shack has flooded. The moon is thin and the end of the month nigh and the tin warps the light, so that shifting silver waves lap the walls. The house is an ocean. And the ship? She freezes on the bottom rung. The ship is a mattress and on it a sea creature, many-armed and terrible, with skin slick and wet. Her throat is too parched to scream. And then she sees: not one creature but two. Ma sits astride Ba, her belly crushing him. Her nightgown falls over them both, and her legs hook his, pressing him into the mattress. She’s hurting him. His breaths come quick and shuddering. —ets, Ma says. She rises up, bears down. Her weight makes him groan. Tickets.Ba puts a hand to her chest to stop her. Beauty is a weapon, Ma said, and Lucy thinks she may begin to understand. Ma’s power a nighttime power. Sweat gathers on Lucy, in those places where skin rubs skin: the crook of her elbows, the space between her thighs. A wet heat in the room; the rainy season is coming. Ba’s eyes roll back. And still Ma hurts him, till his head goes loose and a single word escapes him: Yes.Only then does Ma lift off. Lucy is aware of the sting of her own urine down her leg. Shamefaced she climbs upstairs. No need for the outhouse tonight.
Lucy wakes dry-mouthed to the sound of water. A patter on tin, echoing: the season’s first rain has come. Her bladder throbs as she climbs down. The wet thickens to a suck and slap, as if the shack has flooded. The moon is thin and the end of the month nigh and the tin warps the light, so that shifting silver waves lap the walls. The house is an ocean. And the ship? She freezes on the bottom rung. The ship is a mattress and on it a sea creature, many-armed and terrible, with skin slick and wet. Her throat is too parched to scream. And then she sees: not one creature but two. Ma sits astride Ba, her belly crushing him. Her nightgown falls over them both, and her legs hook his, pressing him into the mattress. She’s hurting him. His breaths come quick and shuddering. —ets, Ma says. She rises up, bears down. Her weight makes him groan. Tickets.Ba puts a hand to her chest to stop her. Beauty is a weapon, Ma said, and Lucy thinks she may begin to understand. Ma’s power a nighttime power. Sweat gathers on Lucy, in those places where skin rubs skin: the crook of her elbows, the space between her thighs. A wet heat in the room; the rainy season is coming. Ba’s eyes roll back. And still Ma hurts him, till his head goes loose and a single word escapes him: Yes.Only then does Ma lift off. Lucy is aware of the sting of her own urine down her leg. Shamefaced she climbs upstairs. No need for the outhouse tonight.