Into the Great Wide Open by Kevin Canty Page A

Come on, he thought, come on, sending the thought toward her with all his power; which as near as he could tell was none. Come over here to me.
    And then she did, sliding around on the coarse burlap cloth of the seat. She took her glasses off first, left them on the table. Her mouth was slick with butter but still she tasted of nothing, rainwater. Rain ticking at the glass, the ice already down. He could feel the cold at the back of his neck, the miles of cold black night pressing down at the windows; and the empty streets of the city, the canceled life.
    “Come on,” she said; taking the lamps, scooting out of his reach.
    Kenny didn’t argue. He followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom, the dim flames of the oil lamps sending crazy shadows all around her. They loomed and separated, shivered in place. Her mother was downstairs, probably asleep by now—she had a daybed in her sewing room, separate from the room she officially shared withher official husband, where she slept most nights. She had a television down there, a little dorm refrigerator. Kenny and Junie were alone as they could ever want to be.
    “Wait here,” she said, leaving him at the door of her bedroom, leaving the lamps with him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
    Again that feeling of marriage: this house belonged to them, an ordinary Wednesday night, November. Householders, housekeepers. He went in, set the lamps on the table, and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting, not wanting to jinx anything by thinking about it.
    When Junie came back in, her clothes hung loose around her, unbuttoned. Quickly she stepped out of them, as easily as if she had done this a hundred times in front of him. She fussed with her bra, straightened out her blouse so it wouldn’t wrinkle, just like he wasn’t there; then lay down on the bed behind him, facing the wall.
    “Your turn,” she said.
    He felt the gravity right away, knew this was something, it would have weight. He stepped out of her jeans, let them fall loose to the floor, threw the flannel shirt aside. He was hard as anything, just from seeing her. Not quite real, her body in the lamplight.
    “Go easy,” she said as she turned to him; and he didn’t know what she meant, at first. He kissed her lips, her neck, and as he kissed her breasts he felt the trembling start inside her. He wondered. But she stayed with him, bravely, her arms just resting anywhere and then coming slowly, awkwardly to embrace him. Her hand on the back of his head, pressing his lips to her breast. Kenny thought that he might go off soon, any moment, he could feel her with his whole body.
    She pushed him away, just far enough to see his face, her familiar nearsighted gaze focusing, trying to see. “I’m not using anything,” she said. Up on one elbow, whispering.
    “What?”
    “I’m not using anything,” she said again, searching his face.Kenny flushed, not guilty of any particular offense but not exactly innocent either.
    He said, “I’ve got a thing, downstairs. I mean it’s out in the car but I can get it.”
    “No,” Junie said. “I don’t want anything. I want it to be real, all right? Consequences, take your chances.”
    His heart leapt toward her, this was beautiful, crazy; he was already in deeper than he knew. He closed his eyes. The way she lay there, up on one elbow, her fine long neck and her breasts offered to him. He was sure of her, even past the temptation. Too late to stop anyway but he was sure of her.
    “All right,” he whispered. “Consequences.”
    “Go easy,” she said; and still he didn’t know what she meant. She let herself down onto her back again and lay in front of him, open to him.
Ceremonial
, he thought; not quite a victim. Kenny would have been content to look at her for a while, enjoy the touch of her body, the places that were new to him. But there was an urgency. He didn’t want to wreck it. He pressed his body against hers again, kissed her breasts one then the other and felt