Page 88 of What I Should Have Done

“Thinking about him, aren’t you?” Scottie quietly asked.

I nodded once but said nothing.

“I’m really sorry about all of that.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” I wished she’d believe me, but I knew no matter how often I voiced it, she’d carry that guilt for a long time. “And you? How are you doing with everything that…you know…happened?”

She exhaled loudly. “I’m okay. The nightmares suck, though; mostly because I wake up and swear I taste his dick. And trust me, he hadn’t cleaned it in a while. It was all slimy and tasted kinda like spoiled milk.”

“I did not need that extra description, Scotch,” I said, gagging at the thought.

“Yes, you did. Since I have to suffer, then you do too.”

I was surprised with how quickly she was resorting to joking about being assaulted, but knowing her, I assumed this was one of her depraved ways of trying to process that shit. Despite how insensitive it might come across, Scottie was trying to find a way to talk about it, and I was determined to ride whatever wave that was if that was the help she needed.

Inhaling deeply on the cigarette, I blew out a ring of smoke. But I wasn’t sure how to do that. The smoke laced up into the air, rising higher and widening as it stretched closer to the blue sky and then dissipated. I was so young when my shit went down, and I wasn’t a woman as she was.

“Say it,” Scottie said before I managed to open my mouth with a response.

“Say what?” I asked.

“Whatever dirty joke I just know is rolling through your head.”

Glancing at her, I scoffed. “Believe it or not, this is one of those few times that I don’t have a sex joke at the ready.”

She sharply inhaled, her chest expanded and she swallowed stiffly. “I could use one right now…” Her voice softened and she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth.

“I don’t want to say anything inappropriate considering what happened.”

“Please, I need the distraction,” she whispered, her plea rising in her widened eyes.

Puffing once more on the cigarette, I looked up at the sky. She was asking. With that promise to help her however she needed curling fresh in my mind, I nodded to myself. “If you ever want a refresher on what clean dick tastes like, just let me know. I have one available right here,” I cautiously offered.

“You sly, arrogant, shithead.” She chuckled softly. “I don’t need a refresher, though; it’s hard to forget the taste of clean dick when it tastes like an avocado.”

“Like a what?” I drew in on my cigarette. She seemed calm…

“An avocado. You know, the weird green mushy vegetable that doesn’t really have a flavor but also does?”

I exhaled a puff of smoke. “You think clean dick tastes like a fucking avocado? Of all the things to pick to describe a clean dick, you’re sticking with an avocado.”

“You know I’m right!”

“No, I don’t think that’s something that I know. An avocado. They have that mushy texture, so—”

“Not the texture dumbass.”

“Okay, but still. Putting aside the texture, clean dick tastes like—”

“SKIN!” a third voice shouted, interrupting what I’d thought to be a private conversation.

I looked backwards toward the person who had shouted—someone I knew. Someone we both knew. An upside down Bernie approached us with something clutched in his hands. Sitting up on the table, I slid down to the bench opposite Scottie as Bernie made it to our unintentionally secluded corner.

“Just skin, dammit! It tastes like just fucking skin!” he emphasized.

Scottie’s mouth fell open as my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “How the fuck do you know what clean dick tastes like?” I asked, trying to decide if I should laugh or remain shocked.

“Better question: Why the hell are you talking about what clean dick tastes like?” Bernie cocked a brow.

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