Bedtime Eyes

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Spoon made me feel fantastic—by that I mean he made my body feel good, but not my mind. He could make love to me, but no matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t make love to him. I wanted to know what other people did in the same situation, so I asked my friend Maria, but she wouldn’t tell me. I wanted someone to tell me what to do, to give me a list of instructions to follow.

It took me too long to realize that it was far more difficult to lick his wounds than to suck his cock. Now I wonder why I didn’t start practicing earlier.

Even now his empty bottle of Brut aftershave and his vitamin-E tablets (without which he swore he wouldn’t be able to fuck) are on the counter of my bathroom sink. I can’t bring myself to throw his stuff away, I can’t even put it in one of the suitcases he left behind and hide it away in the back of the closet.

When Spoon ran away from the Yokosuka Naval Base, he packed all his things neatly and came to my place, bags in hand. He rang the doorbell politely before coming in, so it almost felt like I had a semipermanent houseguest staying with me. In one of his suitcases were twenty Hershey bars he’d brought for me, but I felt strangely uneasy; it didn’t seem right to accept them all just for putting him up.

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