Shorts4Dinos
Shorts4Dinos
Physical Touch is My Love Language
wc: 369
2021
2021
When I was sixteen, I
almost tripped on a bone half buried in the dirt.
“What is it?” Niva called from the maple tree.
“Cow femur.”
“Whoa!” There was a soft thud and some crunching as she kicked through the chip bags and plastic detritus. She knelt in close. “Are you gonna touch it?”
When I was eight, Fletcher found a pistol. We’d been playing hide and seek and then we were in the backyard and he was pulling it out of his waistband.
“Look what I found under your dad’s bed.”
“Cool.”
“Have you shot one before?”
“Yeah. My dad lets me shoot at squirrels.”
“Whoa.” We both looked at it, he would need three fingers to pull the trigger.
When I was twenty-four, my dad lay in the dimmed hospital room with a blanket pulled up to two large cardiovascular catheters protruding from either side of his esophagus. He lay motionless, his head propped on a plastic pillow so he wouldn’t have to stare at the ceiling. I felt his toes through the sheet, bony but warm, probably sweaty too. I asked who gave him those hickeys. He smiled and winked.
“What is it?” Niva called from the maple tree.
“Cow femur.”
“Whoa!” There was a soft thud and some crunching as she kicked through the chip bags and plastic detritus. She knelt in close. “Are you gonna touch it?”
When I was eight, Fletcher found a pistol. We’d been playing hide and seek and then we were in the backyard and he was pulling it out of his waistband.
“Look what I found under your dad’s bed.”
“Cool.”
“Have you shot one before?”
“Yeah. My dad lets me shoot at squirrels.”
“Whoa.” We both looked at it, he would need three fingers to pull the trigger.
When I was twenty-four, my dad lay in the dimmed hospital room with a blanket pulled up to two large cardiovascular catheters protruding from either side of his esophagus. He lay motionless, his head propped on a plastic pillow so he wouldn’t have to stare at the ceiling. I felt his toes through the sheet, bony but warm, probably sweaty too. I asked who gave him those hickeys. He smiled and winked.
Fletcher held it up, pointing it at my face. We looked at each other; his eyebrows were raised, and his eyes were bulging and then he was laughing and then we were laughing. I put my hand up so I couldn’t see the mouth of it. He started waving it all around, making me move my hand to match him, both of us cackling all the time.
I crouched down next to Niva. “You should touch it first.”
“I’m not touching that thing, it’s nasty.”
“It could be a good tomahawk.” I imagined three quick movements that ended in two yellow plummetting fluffs.
“A throwing bone.”
“Ha, exactly.”
“How do you know it’s a cow femur?”
“Look at the size of it.”
“I feel like that could fit in a person’s leg.”
We both stared at it, imagining how a human’s bone could’ve gotten into the small patch of trees across the street from school, homeroom, the principal’s office.
“It’s probably a cow femur.” I said.
Niva shrugged, “So are you gonna touch it or not?”
There was silence or small wings shuttering away.