BooksBarbecue
Back You Exist Too Much
Chapters (23)
  1. Title Page
  2. Dedication
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Acknowledgments
  23. About the Author

She then took my hands, and again, and I let her lead. I stared up at her as we ascended the stairs, my stomach dancing. We got to the top and I peered down the hallway, which was punctuated by a series of doorways. She brought me to the last one, to a room with a canopy bed and a dresser on each side. One of them was covered with perfume bottles, makeup brushes, compacts. The other held just a box of tissues and a comb. “Our room,” she said, reminding me that she was married, she had a husband. She kissed my cheek and I felt myself get excited. Ashamed, I looked away. She then took my chin and turned my face so that we were looking directly at each other. Again she kissed me. Her breath inside my mouth was hot, I could taste the chalkiness of her lipstick. She placed her palms on my shoulders and pushed me gently toward the bed. As the backs of my knees hit the frame, I instinctively scooted up along the side of the mattress. She climbed on top of me, her arms straight and her hair spilling onto my shirt. “I haven’t done this in a while,” I said, “but I’m not sure I should tell you that.”

“It’s okay,” she said, “you don’t have to say anything.” She smiled, and gently touched the tips of her fingers to my face. “In fact, better if you don’t.”

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Our trio took a train to Venice one weekend in early October. I had just started working as a production assistant at a Berlusconi-owned television station, getting paid under the table since I didn’t have a work visa, so we could afford a hotel room over a hostel. Agos slept on the couch, and the Sacrifice and I shared the bed. The Sacrifice fell asleep right away the first night. She breathed heavily and slowly while she slept, like an infant. I stared at the ceiling and thought about nights I’d spent sleeping in my mother’s bed after my father moved out. I’d lie awake then too, listening to my mother’s breathing, wondering if my father would ever live with us again, how long I would get to occupy his spot. For much longer than I’d expected, it turned out. I lay listening to the Sacrifice exhale until the rhythm of her breaths eventually lulled me to sleep.

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