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Back Devotion Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. About the Author
  47. About the Publisher

He was referencing everything except the final act, the really important one. The way we’d both betrayed her body, pushed her into something she shouldn’t have been a part of. He was just as much at fault.

If he gave them parties, sex, drugs, he could do whatever he wanted.

“Last night was your idea,” I said, a little sting of a sentence.

Lonnie rose then, unfolding her body, throwing her shoulders back, transforming back into her adult self. From the table behind the sofa she grabbed a vase and flung it into the hallway, the blue-and-white porcelain shattering across the marble floor. “Fuck both of you,” she said as she walked out.

James laughed a little, and then, kicking my notebook over toward me, said quietly, “I think you’d better leave now.”

40

AS I PACKED MY SUITCASE, I TRIED TO THINK OF ALL THE OTHER larger failures I could be living with. People accidentally kill children. They drop babies on cement, on slippery rocks. They run innocent people over with cars. They have to live with themselves after that. They have to eat dinner, pay rent, build a little life around themselves. I thought about my own ancestors, the ones who chose to pack up and move their family across the country by covered wagon. Would they not have felt they’d failed as they watched their babies die of dysentery?

They must have had some other understanding of life. So, I asked myself, have you seen the elephant yet?

I could still feel James’s cum dripping out of me. I’d never had anyone finish inside me before, without a condom. I wondered vaguely if I’d get pregnant. The semen itself disturbed me more than the idea of a baby. I didn’t ever consider how it must come back out. Such a strange sensation—the body cleaning itself. I read once that a woman can carry around DNA from the men who’ve ejaculated inside her for the rest of her life. They cut open a bunch of dead women’s brains and found male DNA, which at first they thought was from pregnancy, but later they realized it was in too many women, not just ones with sons. The sperm, they reasoned, are basically moving DNA, and they don’t just burrow into available eggs but any cells they can find. I didn’t want to house his genetic code. What did it do inside you? Why was he making me carry it?