“Well, you’re in a really good mood all of a sudden,” Courtney said as we drove back to Brookline through ungodly Boston traffic. “You haven’t stopped smiling since we got in the car.”
“Probably all that coffee I drank. Caffeine and dopamine are related to the brain’s pleasure centers.”
“Yeah, or maybe this is your pleasure center.” Courtney pulled up pictures of Kenny that she had taken on her phone. She slowly scrolled through them as we inched along in gridlock, angling the screen so we both could see. There were some wide shots of his entire body, close up shots of his face and more of his arms and muscular torso.
“God, how many did you take, Courtney?”
I was about to turn away when I caught sight of an image I could not decipher. It was taken way too close to see clearly. It was mostly dark shades of black. I thought she might have taken a picture of the floor or a wall by accident.
“What the hell is that?” I asked.
Courtney flipped back to the previous image of Kenny and zoomed in on the front of his jeans. “It’s that?”
“Why did you take a picture of his crotch?” “You see the size of his cock?”
“What?” I thought she might be talking about the Kokopelli, though I was sure she hadn’t even seen those particular carvings.
“That is some totem pole he’s sporting,” Courtney said. “And he got that wood for you, girl.” “You’re crazy.” I didn’t see anything at first,
but as I stared at it longer, the swirls of shadows and indistinct patterns slowly came into focus and I saw what appeared to be the outline of a large penis. It was the right shape, but it extended halfway down the length of his right thigh. It had to be a photographic illusion, conjured by the power of suggestion, similar to the way the likeness of Jesus appears in objects like potato chips. People see what they want to see. For Courtney, who had cock on the brain, this very much was a religious experience.
“What were you two talking about to get that kind of reaction from him?”
I thought about it a moment. “I don’t know.” “You don’t want to tell me? Your own sister? It
must have been pretty raunchy.” “No, I really don’t remember.”
She looked me over with suspicion. “How could you not remember what you talked about?” Then her expression changed to one of understanding. “Oh, your vertigo. You haven’t had that happen in a while, have you?”
“No, it’s been at least three years since the last one, when Mom got sick. But I don’t know if it was that, exactly.”
“That peace pipe in his pants would make me dizzy, too.” Courtney looked down at a picture of
Kenny and silently mouthed, “Wow!” before putting her phone down on the center console. “Well, is he married? What’s his story?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s not married. And I know he teaches at BU. Can you believe that? I’ve been on the same campus with him and I didn’t even know it.”
“Did he ask you out?”
“Oh, my God!” While I couldn’t actually remember everything he said after I got dizzy, I knew he wanted to see me, and what worried me was David.
“What is it?” The concern in Courtney’s voice was just as evident on her face.
“I never told him about David. And he knows my home address because I gave him my driver’s license and credit card to buy a Kachina doll.” Suddenly remembering the carving, I began to look around for the bag, but I quickly realized that I didn’t have it. “Shit! I left it at the shop.”
Courtney scowled. “You bought one of those hideous things?”
“He actually gave it to me. And I think they’re amazing and beautiful. He makes them entirely by hand.”
“What’s going to be remarkable is when he comes over to put those hands all over you.” Courtney threw her head back and laughed. “I’d love to see the look on David’s face when that seven-foot Indian stud knocks on the door looking for you.”
“It’s not funny, Courtney. You know how David can be.”
“Who would have thought? My sister, the coquette.”
“Stop it,” I said as a text came in.