her walk when she took me around to the living
room. There was a fire, and it drove the chill completely from the room.
He paused for a moment and remembered. I worked to keep my eyes open. Bethany stood by the
watercooler.
Her son was out, but I sat on this leather couch, and it was cool, and she sat next to me.
She smelled like lemons and lilac. This really has nothing to do with anything, but later
that evening, in my little sitting room upstairs, I wrote a poem entitled Lemons and
Lilacs:
A woman resplendent of smells repentant to run tormented on legs cemented.
I can smell the lemons, the lilacs whenever I recite that. Its a prayer. Its a mantra.
Jeneen Dovrance had this young skin, pink like a schoolgirls, even though she was in her
mid-thirties, and her lovely full breasts pressed against the rose blouse.
He stopped and bit his lower lip, and his mouth trembled a little. I woke up. Bethany
disappeared.
They pressed against the blouse? I asked, needing to say something.
Like they were, somehow, captive. They yearned, actually. I gave her the packet for the Ad
Altare Dei, and beside each requirement I noted how other boys had accomplished them, and
at the bottom of the set of papers I included my name and address. Jeneen put her handher
pink, almost translucent handonto my knee and thanked me, over and over, for making the
trip and being so atten- tive. I got up, but as I did, my own hand brushed ever so
reassuringly on hers. It was a small moment, but of such intensity I cant begin to say.
Anyway I . . . called her the very next day under the pretense of concern over the
Scouting thing, but Ill say it right out: I simply had to hear her voice and imagine her
ensemble. Is that so wrong?
He looked at me and seemed angry. No, I said. Its not a human vow. Historically its not
grounded in anything.
Property, money, I dont know, but I dont believe that the church can justify it.
He looked out the window at the dark. I had sex a few times in high school, he sort of
mumbled. I had been with three women. Been with them in bed, sexually
I mean. They were all in-country and prostitutes. I paid them ten dollars in American
money, and they were very happy, even though I could feel how much they hated me, months
after. Like they put a curse on me so I would remember how they felt. I was the beast
Bethany used to say Id be. My fat ass, my hopeless self. Even when I smiled at a woman, I
felt I was inflicting myself into her nice life. Sex.
They were lovely young girls, but this woman sank into my un- conscious. I called her
again. And again. And each time she laughed and chatted in her breathless little way.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Words, he said. I just dont know about them. We were on the phone, and I was upstairs in
my little bedroom, and I asked about her kid and his progress with Ad Altare Dei, et
cetera, and she said . . . she said, Its very hot. Im just going to take this off, just a
second. Well, Im on the other end thinking, My God, what? What has she taken off ? So I
ask her casually. I say, So . . . what did you have to take off ? and she says, Oh, my
sweater, and I say, Are you cooler now? and she says, Actually no, Im still pretty hot,
and theres a pause, and finally I say, I say . . . Why dont you, why dont you take off the
rest of your clothes so your full, ripe breasts can cool off ?
He looked at me as if I should say something. But I dont know things. Ive always thought
they must get hot, but I just dont know. I smiled stupidly.
Jeneen Dovrance said, What? And I said like a ritual lamb, like a cow in the Chicago
stockyards, I said, Why dont you slip out of your clothes so I can imagine you there,
nude, with your lovely breasts and sweet love box all full and juicy. Shejokes on me, all
right, old celibate Benny Galloshe hangs up. Know how I can remember what I said word for
word?
room. There was a fire, and it drove the chill completely from the room.
He paused for a moment and remembered. I worked to keep my eyes open. Bethany stood by the
watercooler.
Her son was out, but I sat on this leather couch, and it was cool, and she sat next to me.
She smelled like lemons and lilac. This really has nothing to do with anything, but later
that evening, in my little sitting room upstairs, I wrote a poem entitled Lemons and
Lilacs:
A woman resplendent of smells repentant to run tormented on legs cemented.
I can smell the lemons, the lilacs whenever I recite that. Its a prayer. Its a mantra.
Jeneen Dovrance had this young skin, pink like a schoolgirls, even though she was in her
mid-thirties, and her lovely full breasts pressed against the rose blouse.
He stopped and bit his lower lip, and his mouth trembled a little. I woke up. Bethany
disappeared.
They pressed against the blouse? I asked, needing to say something.
Like they were, somehow, captive. They yearned, actually. I gave her the packet for the Ad
Altare Dei, and beside each requirement I noted how other boys had accomplished them, and
at the bottom of the set of papers I included my name and address. Jeneen put her handher
pink, almost translucent handonto my knee and thanked me, over and over, for making the
trip and being so atten- tive. I got up, but as I did, my own hand brushed ever so
reassuringly on hers. It was a small moment, but of such intensity I cant begin to say.
Anyway I . . . called her the very next day under the pretense of concern over the
Scouting thing, but Ill say it right out: I simply had to hear her voice and imagine her
ensemble. Is that so wrong?
He looked at me and seemed angry. No, I said. Its not a human vow. Historically its not
grounded in anything.
Property, money, I dont know, but I dont believe that the church can justify it.
He looked out the window at the dark. I had sex a few times in high school, he sort of
mumbled. I had been with three women. Been with them in bed, sexually
I mean. They were all in-country and prostitutes. I paid them ten dollars in American
money, and they were very happy, even though I could feel how much they hated me, months
after. Like they put a curse on me so I would remember how they felt. I was the beast
Bethany used to say Id be. My fat ass, my hopeless self. Even when I smiled at a woman, I
felt I was inflicting myself into her nice life. Sex.
They were lovely young girls, but this woman sank into my un- conscious. I called her
again. And again. And each time she laughed and chatted in her breathless little way.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Words, he said. I just dont know about them. We were on the phone, and I was upstairs in
my little bedroom, and I asked about her kid and his progress with Ad Altare Dei, et
cetera, and she said . . . she said, Its very hot. Im just going to take this off, just a
second. Well, Im on the other end thinking, My God, what? What has she taken off ? So I
ask her casually. I say, So . . . what did you have to take off ? and she says, Oh, my
sweater, and I say, Are you cooler now? and she says, Actually no, Im still pretty hot,
and theres a pause, and finally I say, I say . . . Why dont you, why dont you take off the
rest of your clothes so your full, ripe breasts can cool off ?
He looked at me as if I should say something. But I dont know things. Ive always thought
they must get hot, but I just dont know. I smiled stupidly.
Jeneen Dovrance said, What? And I said like a ritual lamb, like a cow in the Chicago
stockyards, I said, Why dont you slip out of your clothes so I can imagine you there,
nude, with your lovely breasts and sweet love box all full and juicy. Shejokes on me, all
right, old celibate Benny Galloshe hangs up. Know how I can remember what I said word for
word?
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