Oxford Magazine: Unsated, Unslaked, Issue 37: Spring 2016

Daniel M. Jaffe Sandy hugs Emily, who wraps her arms around tightly and locks her wrists. Gently as she can, Alicia lifts the nightgown and swipes the washcloth down Sandy’s butt.

Sandy’s eyes widen. She struggles and screams, “Are you crazy?!”

A fold of the washcloth, then one more quick swipe.

“Stop! You’re killing me!”

“Come on, Sandy, calm down.”

“Get away from me!”

“Miss Sandy,” says Alicia from behind, “I’m almost done, but you’re a little messy. Just a couple more quick wipes.”

“I’ll murder you! Grandma! Grandma, help!”

Sandy wriggles so hard, she nearly topples Emily backward. “Sandy, you stop that this instant! Alicia is just washing you, nothing else.”

Alicia’s glad Miss Sandy’s giving Emily a hard time. Although she knows Miss Sandy needs just one more swipe of the washcloth, she wipes twice.

“How dare you, you pig! You pig!”

Alicia takes a step back. Miss Sandy’s never spoken to Alicia this harshly before. Shouldn’t have done that last wipe just to spite Emily. At Miss Sandy’s expense.

“Don’t look so crestfallen,” says Emily. “You know some days are harder than others.”

A word of comfort from Emily? Has Alicia been misjudging her? “You’re right. Thank you.” Alicia sets the washcloth in the sink, rubs Sandy’s upper back and tugs the nightgown into place. “Miss Sandy, I’m here to help. Try to remember that, okay?”

“Okay, Hallie.”

“There she goes with that Hallie business again,” says Emily, unlocking her wrists and holding Sandy just tightly enough to maintain balance.

“It’s alright. She loved Hallie,” says Alicia.

“You know who this Hallie person was? You never said.”

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