Pat and Xiomara’s footsteps on the wet deck were making it through the air. Pat was clearly running. She wanted in on our hug but she slipped on the...water. None of us were free enough to catch her.“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” She squealed as she rolled side to side. I pushed the girls off of me. I knelt across from Xiomara as she ran her fingers through Pat’s hair.“She’s not bleeding.” Xiomara pulled back her fingers. She had to taste them to be certain the wetness was water.“The fuck I’m not!”. I understand, I'm just saying, you know...if you wanted." His voice issoft, sincere and gentle. I like it, I feel myself responding to it. But Iremind myself he's just saying what he's supposed to, utterlypredictable. I sit there,wondering what to say. All the little things, the words we say and listen to sowe can form an opinion, a judgment, have already been said in other places,remote places. He's 42, divorced with a son nearly a year older than I am. Hehad a girlfriend for 5 years, a. More

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