Buddhas Happy Family Jewels

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Jackie says, Chinese food is supposed to mix together on the plate. I know him as Dave but he says he is Jackie. We are sitting in a bad-good Chinese place that uses quality grease. The centerpiece is a ripped silk flower and a wooden Buddha. The lunch in front of me has become orangecashew beefpork despite my efforts to separate it.

I dont like it mixed up, I say. I wish these plates had compartments.

Jackie shrugs. It doesnt matter. It runs together anyway. He picks up the Buddha and strokes it thoughtfully. His stomach is so smooth. And his head. No hair anywhere.

I bet he has hairy testicles.

I dont know if he has any at all, says Jackie.

Ive never patted the Buddha below the belt, but I think he does.

He hands me the figure. I always thought the big belly was supposed to imitate early Goddess carvings. The miracle of life. Being a man would have been hard for him. I bet he tucks.

I rub the Buddhas belly. He feels reassuringly masculine. Im still sick in the mornings. We should have met for dinner instead. Or after the baby is born.

Jackie frowns. Are you worried I wont give child support? I will, after I pay for the surgery.

I dont care about the money, I say, setting the Buddha down. Id rather have you come home.

Now Jackie picks up the Buddha and studies it carefully. Im sorry, but I cant. Its not you, I swear. Its all me.

I still love you.

Jackie sighs. You never knew me. And that was my fault. He takes ten bucks and a tube of lipstick out of his purse. He puts the money on the table and freshens his lipstick. He smacks his lips in my direction, in a kiss thats not meant for me. He stands up and glides out the door, his high heels clattering on the tiled floor.

 

Copyright 2005 Vylar Kaftan