He grinned, kissed me again, then retreated entirely to fish out his cigarettes and lighter. When he was finished, I snatched the hand closest to me and played with his fingers.
“I had that dream again,” he said, almost randomly. “The one with the eyes.”
I laughed a little bit. Jonah sometimes has this dream of a box of eyes. People come along and take the eyes, which would make it seem like eventually the box would run out of eyes, but the box always grows more. I would love to paint that, but I don’t know how or where to start.
“I like that dream,” I said.
He shrugged. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. It’s not a nightmare, but then it’s not exactly one of those dreams that makes you roll over and groan and bury your head in pillows when you wake up just so you can try to stay asleep, either.
“You seem weird,” he said. He gave me an appraising, concerned glance over the thin cylinder of his cigarette.
I shrugged.
“For like the past couple of days now,” he added.
I shrugged again.
“Lissy.”
“It’s nothing.”
“That’s what you always say.”
“Because it’s always nothing.” I let go of his hand.
“Oh, come on. You’re a girl. It’s never nothing.”
I flicked his neck.
“Ow!”
“Well.”
He rubbed the welt. “Okay, maybe that’s an unfair stereotype. But still.”
“It’s just my mother,” I said, hoping that would be the end of this.
“Oh. Well.” He sighed over his cigarette and pressed closer to me. “Hey, you think they named her Killjoy originally, but she changed it because Killjoy wasn’t very Christian-ly?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed in spite of myself. “No. She’d probably be too worried about dishonoring her parents.”
“How Shakespearean.”
I reached for his hand again.
Labels: january brings few faces
