Free Wolf Point by Edward Falco Page B

water; the regular loud gusts of wind beginning as a soft moan and building to screams; the little cloud of smoke, thinner now but still there, hovering near the ceiling; the smell of wood smoke; the chill of cold air against his bare arms; the shadows; the moonlight through the window.
    He considered leaving. It seemed like a good moment to simply walk out of this story. Jenny and Lester go on withtheir lives. T goes on with his. Instead, he went to the kitchen for a drink of water, the fireplace heat and smoke having parched his throat, and found Lester sitting on the counter by the kitchen window huddled up inside one of the same deep-green blankets he had just put over Jenny. His back was against the wall, his knees were pulled to his chest, and he looked out the window and down to the water as if he hadn’t heard T walk into the kitchen, or the small gasp T made when he first saw the figure of a man wrapped in a blanket sitting on a kitchen counter.
    T said, “How long have you been here?”
    Lester didn’t acknowledge his presence. He stared out the window to the river in silence.
    T poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen sink and nearly choked on the first mouthful, which tasted thick with sulfur. He held the water glass under his nose and then jerked his head back from the unpalatable odor.
    “So,” Lester said, looking at T for the first time, “how was it?”
    “Water’s terrible,” he said. He put the glass down, leaned back against the sink facing Lester, and grasped the counter-top with the palms of his hands. “How was what?”
    “Jenny,” Lester said. “Sleeping with Jenny. How was it?”
    T met Lester’s eyes, which were narrow and glaring, and returned his hard gaze with one sleepy and comfortable.
    Lester turned back to the window. “She doesn’t like it, you know.”
    “Doesn’t like what?”
    “Sex,” he said. “She doesn’t like sex.”
    “She doesn’t? Ever? With anyone?”
    “She’d rather get a tooth pulled. Why? Did she do the whole act for you? Did she have an earthshaking orgasm?” Lester looked as though he were crouched inside his blanket, as if, should he want to, he could leap from the counter. “She did, didn’t she?” he said, settling the matter. He touched his head back against the wall and looked up, in the direction of the moon. “Forget it,” he added. “It was an act. It hurts her, physically. Her vagina actually physically hurts when she has sex.”
    “She told you that?” T said. “What? Always? It’s always hurt her to have sex?”
    Lester said, “You think you know something about Jenny?” He shook his head, as if despairing of T’s ignorance.
    “I don’t think I know anything about Jenny.” T took a step toward Lester and then stood there awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen.
    “Fuck,” Lester said, as if too disgusted to continue the conversation. He covered his face with his hands. “I’m tired.”
    T watched him a moment longer, then started aimlessly out of the kitchen toward the living room before noticing the guitar case propped up against the wall. He touched the hard plastic shell, running his fingers over one of the metal snaps. “Are you a musician?” he asked.
    Lester shook his head.
    “What’s in the guitar case?”
    “Red guitar.” He took his hands away from his face. “It’s valuable.” He turned his back to the window and slid his legs off the counter. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said, and then paused a moment, thoughtfully. “I just wanted you to know about Jenny. I’m not bullshitting you. I lived with her for a year. I watched her go through all her stuff.”
    “All what stuff?”
    Lester pulled the blanket around him and hunched his shoulders as if he were cold. “Just— I know a little bit about her,” he said. “It hurts her to have sex. It’s one of the reasons we split up. I mean, she’d do it, for me, but I was like—” He slid down from the counter. “I just thought you