98 Wounds by Justin Chin Read Free Book Online Page B

night’s sleep or two. But I could not.
    Now when he snores, I turn my back to him and press up close to him, back to back, so I can feel the vibrating timbre. The buzzing reassures me that he’s not dead in bed beside me. I stick a pillow over my head and I slowly drift off. I am in the Serengeti and we are sitting in lawn chairs amidst the tall grasses, the sun is about to set, and we each have a small tumbler of black coffee in hand. I look not unlike Isak Dinesen, before the syphilis turned her into a shriveled little monkey, of course. My husband reaches over and holds my hand as the sun dips below the horizon. In the distance, a garbage truck is fighting with a couple of hippopotamuses. Oh look! A puma and a lion stalking in the grass are about to pounce into the melee. What? The seagulls and a couple of buzzards and a pelican want to join in, too? Sure, why not. Here comes an ape with a spanner in one hand and a wind chime in the other jumping into the mess. This is going to go on for a while.
    I’m rooting for the ape. I affectionately call him Preparation Ape. The only person who would find that amusing is my husband. And on cue, I hear him guffaw, then the snoring resumes.
    8.
    Those three little words rear their icky hydra heads. No, not “Here’s some cash!” though that’s quite good, too. The other three words that mean everything and nothing, which encompasses the constellation to a wad of phlegm at the bottom of your lung, which spins the axis of living things but is powerless to stop a door closing, which is unspeakable yet uttered every 2.3 seconds by someone somewhere in the world in whatever language, some might even mean what they say, but mostly it’s a matter of what the other hears. You will succumb to it; everyone does once at least, eventually. You may triumph over it, or think you do, or you might let it ruin you, turn you into fungus.
    Oops. It’s 2 seconds, 2 point 1, 2 point 2, do you hear someone saying it?
    Someone says, “I love you.”
    Someone else says, “Okay. Define Love .”
    â€œI love you, too, but I’m married.”
    â€œYou don’t love me, you just think that you do because I represent the freedom that you desire in your cloistered life.”
    2 seconds, 2 point 1, 2 point 2, someone else says:
    â€œI’m sorry, couldn’t quite hear you. What was that again?”
    â€œLet’s be friends!”
    â€œStop, don’t spoil what we have together by saying that.”
    â€œWho are you? Stop following me or I’ll call the police.”
    2 seconds, 2 point 1, 2 point 2, someone else says:
    â€œNo. You lust me. But that’s okay.”
    â€œLove is an artificial construct but it’s not your fault that you’ve been oppressed, brainwashed even, by our late Capitalist culture. Hey, can I get a backrub?”
    2 seconds, 2 point 1, 2 point 2, someone else says:
    â€œBut the Winter Olympic pairs figure skating tryouts are in three weeks, we have to focus. This is not the right time.”
    â€œI can only love Jesus Christ, my personal lord and savior. Do you know that He died for you? So you could have eternal life? Do you?”
    â€œYou amuse me! You say the most outrageous things.”
    2 seconds, 2 point 1, 2 point 2, someone else says:
    â€œShut up! My pimp will hear you! He hates anyone saying that.”
    2 seconds, 2 point 1, 2 point 2. Or perhaps someone else says:
    Thank you for telling me that. And I want you to know that I mean every single thing I’m telling you now, even as I can’t look you in the eye – here, let me lean my head against you to slow down this cyclone all around me. I think that you are a spectacular and amazing person and I like you very very much and I think I might even love you or be able to fall in love with you. But I haven’t been in that state of being for such a long time, and past experiences have gnawed and beaten me up so much