Oxidane: A Novel in Gifs, 1.3
So you entered, elbow-first, like a lever—but also like a wedge between Tacey and me.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Tacey said, about the sitting-down stunt. But behind the coolness, the irritation, I thought I sensed a genuine regret.
No further action: Tacey said we should Observe.
It was her Method: using all five senses to take you in. If we were going to take you in. The fateful question.
Seeing was easy. She noted your farsightedness: “See the way her eyes are exaggerated? Most glasses make eyes look smaller.”
But why were your glasses so cloudy, the lenses lemonade? I cleaned my own glasses in compulsive solidarity, huffing and rubbing, until Tacey made me stop.
Tasting you was, of course, the hardest. I had hoped to share in your saliva. But you refused the gift of a cigarette when we cornered you outside.
In the end, I tasted your hair. It wasn’t too hard to sit behind you in some interminable class, to lift a matted fold, the very end.
It tasted of dish soap.
And to this day, when I do the dishes, before I rinse, I lift a glass, a bowl, a saucer, to my lips, and I drink you back in.
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All gifs sourced from Giphy.com
