Red Cave

David

1979

On David's record player, Eighteen with a bullet by Pete Wingfield plays in the warm, sweat-scented room. The bass guitar beats in time with David and Mary's hearts as they lock lips on his bed. She has her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, and he gently grinds into her pelvis with his hands pressed beside her head to support his weight.

His fingers tuck her blonde hair behind her ear, allowing his full lips to rest on her cheek. He leaves a trail of kisses down her jawline as she grips the back of his black shirt. Three knocks on the door draw their attention, his forehead landing on her shoulder as he takes a deep breath.

"Yes, Shelly," he flatly calls out while closing his eyes. Michelle tries to open the door by fiddling with the knob, but it's locked. "Michelle, what do you want," he asks, raising his voice and looking at the door.

Mary removes her hands and crosses her arms over her exposed breasts, licking her pink lips at the window behind him. The orange-based and white-speckled drapes sway in the breeze, which is attempting to cool them down.

"Judith's Mom and Dad came by to see you." When his girlfriend's name is mentioned, his eyes widen. Not because he's afraid of Mary's reaction, but because he had forgotten about her. He slowly pulls his gaze away from the door and onto the blue ones narrowed at him. "I told them you're in the shower, so they told me to tell you she's coming back from the hospital, and she'll be here tonight."

"Who's Judith," Mary whispers her question. Her dim eyes dart back and forth between his, waiting for an answer.

God damn it, Michelle.

"Michelle, how'd you know they were here," he asks to avoid answering his new fling. He met Mary on campus shortly after Judith attempted suicide. While Judy struggled to get used to the facility and people screaming at nothing, David paraded Mary on his arm from class to class. Mary watches him climb off of her and onto the floor in just a shirt and red and black striped boxer briefs. As he walks toward the door, she turns her face to her right and huffs. "Michelle?"

David flings open the door, expecting to see her in the hall, but she's already gone downstairs. "Get up, get dressed, and come downstairs with me," he says, whipping his head to Mary.

"Are you gonna tell me who this Judith person is?" He narrows his eyes at her as she turns to face him. He notices the heap of clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed: her peach-colored blouse, denim midi skirt, his jeans, his socks and their shoes.

"Get up," he repeats, replacing his gentleness with a stern tone. "Get dressed and come downstairs. Don't make me say it again."

"I'm not making you do anything," she mumbles while climbing off his bed. His eyebrows lower and he watches her trudge to her clothes. When she reaches their pile, she darts her bitter blues onto his cold browns, and he looks her up and down before walking away.

"Michelle?" He walks down the stairs, hands in front of him, eyes fixed ahead, the washing machine and dryer rumbling in the room beneath the stairs. He turns to look at the fridge when he reaches the last step and notices his ten-year-old sister drinking a glass of milk in front of the dim light. "Hey! Close the door before you run up the bill; you know Mom and Dad hate that shit."

She does so with one hand while lowering the drink in front of her with the other.

"Is Mary still here," she asks him before he stops in front of her.

David wipes her philtrum with his thumb, then crosses his arms under his chest and says, "No, she bailed out the window when she heard you knocking."

Michelle drops her gaze onto the quarter amount left in her cup as if she believes him and he notices. He inhales to inform her of his sarcasm, but she interrupts, "Why aren't you and Judy dating anymore?"