Crossroads (32 page)

That evening something changed, and it was understood he would sleep with me. That evening Renee didn't tuck me in
and there was no line waiting for the bathroom. Instead, Renee and Eddie politely said good night. Sean and I tossed away the stuffed animals and pushed the twin beds together. He pulled out a joint, which we smoked in my niece's room in Downers Grove, Illinois, and a calm came over both of us. We made love on the bed with ruffles and frills and I fell asleep in his arms.

In the night I dream of a huge, white whale, swimming off the coast. I dream it beaches itself and dies a simple death of old age, no violent harpooner to bring it home, no maniac with a horrid obsession to drain it of its ambergris and oil. He just pulls up to the beach, rolls over, and dies.

I wake to find Sean on top of me, making fierce and desperate love, and to find that I am as fierce and desperate as he. I clutch him to me and bury my face in his arm and we hold one another so tightly, as if anything, a word, a sound, could make it all slip away. We are bathed in sweat, afraid that Renee and Eddie might hear, while they sleep in their smooth bed in lime-green matching night clothes, placidly, side by side.

I want to say something to him but I can't think of anything to say. I feel myself waking to things I'd thought were dormant or gone. I wish, I think as I lie in his arms, disheveled, that I knew what would happen next, the way I used to think I knew. I wish I could be sure. I wish there were no place else to go.

I prop myself up on the pillow so that I can look outside, and wrap my arms around Sean. He curls against me and I feel his beard, his warm breath on my arm. The moon is like silver. As I gaze at the clear Illinois sky, at the flat suburban lawn, I think how this is my place, this is where I'm from. I wish I could say this to Sean, who is asleep now against my arm. I think maybe I will.

M
ARY
M
ORRIS
was born in Chicago and now lives in New York City. In 1979 her widely known short stories were collected and published in
Vanishing Animals and Other Stories
, which won her the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters' coveted Rome Prize. Morris has been the recipient of a CAPS award, a Guggenheim fellowship, and a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts.