Rafael

By Rachel Deutsch

When we visited Rafael’s mother at the hospital, she would smile at me, but lower her eyes. I thought I made her nervous, so I would sit outside in the hall and pretend to read a book, but really I’d just wait for Rafael to come out so we could go somewhere to fool around.

Rafael and I would practice sex whenever we got the chance and at the very end, right before things turned to magic, I’d force my stiff legs to bend and sometimes I could keep them that way. I’d picture chocolate pouring from my body. Afterward, we’d go make out in photo booths at the mall. It was our thing. Like we were the only ones who had ever thought of doing that.

When the light flashed, we were usually in between movements, my head twisted to the side, his mouth contorted like a jack-o’-lantern, trying to get his tongue in my mouth. Our post-sex hair made us look angry ghosts. They weren’t pretty photos, but I liked how we seemed to be floating through the sky, terrifyingly happy and sleepy at the same time. I kept the photos floating around the bottom of my purse along with some spare change, a couple packs of ramen, and clean underwear for when I slept over.

I wanted to become the orgasm queen and be able to climax in any position. Standing, sitting, cross-legged. I was going to be the heroine to women everywhere. I was going to tell them: “I thought I couldn’t do it, but now I can. So you can, too!”

“It’s really true?” The women of the world would gasp. “Even upside down?”

“Oh, yes, especially upside down,” I’d whisper.

Then, they would grasp my hands with tears in their eyes and thank me for paving the way. When I thought about what I could achieve, I’d get emotional. Maybe eventually there’d be a park fountain named after me, or I’d be invited to give keynote speeches for universities. I’d stand at the podium with a hand on my ample breasts and repeat, “yes you can!” until the whole audience screamed in hope and ecstasy.

As the weeks passed, Rafael would stay longer and longer with his mother. I’d drink vending machine coffee until my eyelids twitched and sometimes I’d actually resort to reading my book. Often, he wouldn’t be in the mood to make out afterward, even when I put my lips into the dent at the bottom of his neck. We’d sit in a park around the corner from the hospital and watch goths dry hump on the grass. I was a bit jealous of them. I thought of getting a new boyfriend, but I liked Rafael a lot. Maybe I even loved him.

Once, I peeked in the hospital room. His mom looked like a lump under the blanket with only her head and arms sticking out. The cables and tubes twisted around her like a web. Rafael was sitting in a chair next to the bed and was leaning forward with his head on her stomach. It was so quiet in there despite all the beeping. When he was in there, Rafael was in the web with her. I wished I could be, too.

When I got home that evening, my mom was sitting on the floor near the door, rummaging through a box of receipts. She looked up at me with her sad eyes. She was wearing a kitchen apron even though there was nothing cooking and the fridge was probably empty.

“Where were you?” She bit into her tongue after she spoke the words, a weird thing she did when she was angry.

“Nowhere,” I mumbled and slipped by her down the hallway past all the piles of clothes and books. She threw her keys after me and they skidded across the wood and into some winter clothes near the bathroom. I softly closed the door to my room and pushed my desk in front of it. I heard her bang something against the wall a few times and then nothing. I turned on music so I wouldn’t have to hear the silence. It was quiet at home, but in a cold way. I started to miss the hospital.

Later, I shuffled to the kitchen to make myself ramen noodles in a mug for dinner and made the same for my mother. She was lying on the couch and the blues and greens of the television made her look like a fish in an aquarium. She had on a reality show about women someplace sunny and happy, like L.A. One of the characters kept saying, “it is what it is,” and my mother was mouthing the words along with her.

When she saw the soup, she said, “what is that crap?”

I left it for her anyway on the floor in front of her. She tried to kick at it with her sock, but it was too far away. She’d eat it when she got hungry enough. I didn’t know if she was teaching this semester or ever again, but there were books under her and piles on the floor around the couch. She’d written words in pen across her arm. I managed to make out “deconstructed” above her wrist. Maybe she was describing herself.

I went back to my room and lay in bed thinking about the world of Rafael’s body and becoming the best at sex. It was comforting to think about something far away from where I was.

The next day, Rafael and I had sex in the bathroom of the Burger King where I worked. It was the end of my shift and I was still wearing my greasy uniform. My bum kept sliding into the sink basin and the faucet poked into my tailbone. Rafael would have to scoop me out again and we would both laugh loudly into each others’ sweaty faces. I didn’t care if the customers heard us. I was pretty sure I was falling in love. I couldn’t get enough of his smell and wanted to rub my face all over his skin. I sucked his bottom lip way into my mouth.

Afterward, we ate fries standing in the middle of the sidewalk outside and then walked over to the hospital to see his mom. I’d brought “Persuasion” to read in the hallway. I liked how I felt holding the book. Like I was intellectual and deep. But, I couldn’t focus and kept hoping we could find somewhere private to go after.

After a while, Rafael opened the door and motioned for me to come in. I threw my book into my purse and made an attempt at fluffing up my hair. I hadn’t been in there for so long that I was surprised by how small the room was when I was actually standing in it. His mom was lying under a yellow quilt that must have been from home. Her hands were trembling a lot and her lips were chattering. She reached for me and I ducked under one of the cables and hunched over the bed. It was the first time I’d ever been that close to her. Her hand was so dry and thin that it felt like I was holding a silk glove, the kind Anne Elliot, in the book, would have worn.

It looked like it was really hard for her to stay awake. She closed her eyes, but her fingers crawled over mine like daddy long leg spiders. Barely there. Rafael sat beside me in the chair with his head down. She sighed and there was a gentleness to the sound that made me raise her hand to my lips. I hadn’t kissed a mother’s hand in a very long time and I felt a little like crying. She smiled with her eyes still shut. Rafael’s shoulders started to shake and he pressed his wrists over his face. I nudged my knee against him since I was still holding her hand in mine. Even though it was so sad, I kept thinking how lucky they were to have each other. I liked standing there touching them both.

That night we did find privacy. His dad was at the hospital so we ate ramen soup out of mugs and then lay in Rafael’s single bed. I pressed my head onto his chest to listen to him breathe. It was windy and the tree outside the window made rhythmic scratching noises on the glass. He put his arm around me and rubbed his thumb on my earlobe in time to the sounds. We didn’t do anything else and for the first time, I was ok with that. I was in his web, and it was soft and quiet in there and not cold at all.

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About Rachel Deutsch

Deutsch is a writer, social worker, and occasional cartoonist. Her writing has appeared in Pulp Literature and The Dominion. Her cartoons have been published in The McGill Daily and Mutha Magazine. Rachel lives in Montreal with her partner and two young children and is currently working on her first novel.