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Mike’s smile dropped. He turned back to his work, flipped a page in his notes. “Yes,” he almost whispered. “I thought so.” Josey turned around. Mike watched her for another minute then packed up and left. He came back the next day at the end of her shift. They stood in the parking lot together. “How did you think this would work?” Josey said. Mike shrugged. He leaned against the trunk of his car. “I didn’t really think it would. That’s not the only reason I’ve been coming to see you. I guess I thought we could be friends. But if you want? Maybe we could be more.” “I’ve got a boyfriend.” “That cop, right? He’s cool. He was really helpful that day.” “That’s Jefferson for you.” “You two are like,” he waved a hand through the air, “serious, or whatever?” Josey caught his hand. She turned into him, tilted her face up, kissed him on the lips. “Yeah,” she said. “We’re serious.” “Oh.” Mike followed her home, their cars like hitched train cars he tailgated her so closely. Josey’s mom wasn’t home yet, and they stumble-walked to the sofa, kissing and groping as they went. Josey shoved Mike down and crawled on top of him. They had sex, fast and rough. Mike’s cock was inside her almost before she could get her underwear off, foreplay obviously a foreign concept, and when she felt him come inside of her, it was too early, and she hadn’t even gotten any pleasure out of it. “Sorry,” he said when it was over. He touched her shoulder. “Sorry, Josey.” “It’s okay,” she said. Mike left, and Jefferson called hours later. Josey didn’t answer. She sat in the kitchen and she cried. She and Martha went to the movies together the next day. Afterwards, the parking lot was filled with wind and fallen, blowing leaves. Josey hugged herself against the chill. She was wearing one of Jefferson’s jackets, and she tucked it against her chin. She looped her arm with Martha’s; they leaned against each other as they walked. “You think I’m screwed up?” Josey asked. She hoped her words would blow away with the wind. “What do you want me to say to that, Josey?” Tell the truth, Josey wanted to say, but she already knew what that was. She shrugged instead. Martha, her fingertips chilled, wrapped her hand around Josey’s.

Profile for Kerri Foley

Crack the Spine - Issue 62  

Literary Magazine

Crack the Spine - Issue 62  

Literary Magazine

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