"We had plenty of food in the house, but Mom never made me feed myself, never taught me how to fix a sandwich. I mean, it doesn't take any learning to do that, but she never made me do it. Before we left the house, Carrie and I went rummaging through my parents' bedroom and bathroom, looking for some condoms. We giggled as we searched, but it did no good; they apparently didn't use them.The mall was a healthy walk, but doable. I kind of liked holding hands with Carrie, swinging them back and forth as we strolled. Sometimes I put my hands in my pockets and Carrie put her arm through mine, like an old married couple. I actually was kind of hoping that some of my friends would see us, would know that I had a girl friend. They might wonder if I was fucking her, which I could at least talk about to them, not like having to stay quiet about Mom.Sure enough, there were a bunch of them in the food court. I could see their eyes flicking back and forth between Carrie and me, saw them glancing. Words from me will not be adequate; the house, Sasha and my past are momentarily forgotten.Until the stairs, I remain entranced by her music. But during the ascent, the shift of her buttocks beneath her slacks prompts other thoughts. When we reach the landing, the gallery-like space which skirts and looks down over the entrance vestibule, I tell her:"Your music is as beautiful as you are." She stops and turns to face me again, a questioning uncertainty in her eyes that causes me to doubt myself. Am I out of order? Have I misread her? But I have unfurled my colours, a boarding party set to swing. "Let me rephrase that: you are as beautiful as your music."She smiles and turns off her phone. "That's sweet," she says while tucking it back quietly into her purse. "— And this is the master bedroom."I know every inch of this room: the enormous bed, the occasional chairs, the dresser. But there is a door I have never seen beyond, which from the agent's blurb I know leads to a dressing room,.
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