Wild Animals

A small group of us meet the 2nd Monday of each month to write together.

This is from the last time we met. 

The prompt was Do Over.

I want a do over of that November night in 2016, when I sent my neighbors home after hearing the results, so that I could melt onto the floor until morning, phone pressed into my ear, crying with my friend Jill, who since that night has gotten herself to law school where she is studying to become an immigration lawyer.

I want a do over of that night, when I called Glen and we didn’t talk because at that moment he was holding and rubbing the feet of his friend who was dying, so on that night he said “I have to go” and I want a do over because the next day — that Wednesday — my neighbor and I walked down our road topless. We ran into our other neighbor who was ecstatic about the results of that night, and still is.

I want a do over where this time we don’t, at that moment when we see his truck barreling up toward us, throw our shirts back on, backward and inside out, say hello and talk politely about the sun.

I want a do over so this time we stand, half naked and howling into that sun. I want a do over so this time we stomp our feet and dance around the truck like wild animals -- our breasts swinging, our mouths open, and our cries loud. 

I want to do that over.