Page 56 of Ghost

Abby

Porter and I were days away from being together one month. I’d convinced myself if we could last that long, we could last forever.

Lying on my back with my head resting against the arm of the couch, I faced Porter, who was on the opposite end, positioned in the same fashion, facing me. My legs were draped over his thighs and my feet rested on his hips. A cluster of grapes was resting on my chest, and a cluster rested on his.

I plucked a grape from the stem, took aim, and paused.

“It doesn’t look like you’re ready,” I said. “Are you ready?”

“Uh Uh,” he muttered.

“Is that a yes?”

“Damn it. I can’t respond with my mouth stretched wide open. I was ready. Just toss the damned thing.”

I flipped the grape into the air. After reaching its apex, it began to fall toward Porter’s face. With wide eyes he studied it, and then snatched it from mid-air.

“Are you part frog?” I asked. “You snatched that thing with precision.”

He swallowed. “I told you.”

He picked a grape from his cluster and raised it. “Damn. What kind of grapes are these? They’re good.”

“Cotton Candy.”

His brows knitted together. “Cotton Candy grapes?”

“Yep.”

He looked at me in disbelief. “Really?”

“What do they taste like?” I asked, my tone sarcastic.

“Cotton Candy.”

“That’s because they’re Cotton Candy grapes.” I tilted my head back. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.”

He tossed the grape with expert precision. I watched intently as it rose, and then fell. With a wide-open mouth, I positioned myself beneath the falling piece of fruit, only to be hit in the chin by it.

“Damn it,” I said as it rolled into my arm pit.

I reached for the grape and hoisted it into the air.

“One to zero,” he said. “And, you can’t re-throw a grape. Get a new one.”

“Who says I can’t re-throw a grape? There aren’t rules.”

“I’m not eating a grape that smacked you in the chin. Get a clean one,” he insisted.

I laughed out loud.

“What?” he asked.

“You stick your tongue in a hole that I piss out of.” I chuckled so hard I had to catch my breath. “And you’re worried about a grape that hit me in the face?”

“Fine,” he said. “Throw the damned thing.”

I tossed the grape at him not to him. Nonetheless, he somehow managed to catch it in his mouth. After chewing it, he gave me a cross look.