Animals Are Free from Sin

by Brian Childs

It was December, but the sun was warm and left me feeling drowsy and sexual; thirsty for a beer and a cigarette. More specifically, I wanted two beers then sex then a cigarette and a nap. I wanted to skip class, my last class ever, to indulge myself in decadence, ending my school career on a satisfying and symbolic note.

"No." said my girlfriend. Not in that "I can't but I really want to" kind of way, or the "No, you're so bad!" kind of way but "No." in the "that's stupid, why would I want to do that" kind of way which, honestly, was what I'd been expecting. I hung up, not really bothered. It'd been a long shot anyway. She never would have allowed the cigarettes and she only ever had sex with me out of pity, although the beers would have improved my chances dramatically.

We hadn't had sex in a month.

I hadn't known what I was doing wrong for the first six months we dated. I'd find myself staring in the mirror and punching a hole in the plaster wall next to it, wondering if I was really that bad at sex and if all my memories of former escapades were simply enhanced by time and imagination.

It was after I'd told her I was going to therapy because of the ensuing chaos in my mind that she let me know that she was on so many anti-depressants that her sex drive was for all practical purposes non-existent.

But I was in love at this point and she cried and I cried and she told me how she was going to work on "the problem" then promptly forgot about it, returning our relationship to its happy/sexless state of equilibrium.

This month we aren't having sex because I'm leaving soon and it's too painful for her. Last month it was ... it was ... did her cat die? Or was that two months ago? The reasons run together in my mind, but I do know that I've had more sex in a week before than I had this whole year; that much in my mind is clear.

Normally this drove me mad, but today was different. The end was a step away and I was ready to abandon an uninspired life with dull classes and shall we say uninspired "other" as well. I was reveling in the kind of pleasurable dissatisfaction that comes from wanting pleasure and knowing it is within your power to get it.

As I'd shuffled out of my last class with the rest of the lemmings a cute Puerto Rican girl I'd sat next to all year had suddenly noticed me.

"You're so tall!" she said, "You don't look so tall sitting down." Then she touched my shoulder and my arm, glanced up at me and smiled.

"How tall are you?" she asked.

"I'm six-two," I said. I'm six-one-and-a-half.

"Wow," she said, looking up.

Later with my back to the grass, my blood pumped slow and thick, warmed by the sun as I remembered the encounter. I arched my back and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation, not caring who saw me, feeling for all the world like a cat: lazy and dangerous; broadcasting my willingness to fuck.

"You look comfy." A voice said.

I opened one eye and saw the cute Puerto Rican girl standing over me. She giggled.

I opened my mouth and words rolled up on their own accord in a voice slightly deeper than the one I normally use. "How do you feel about smoking?" I asked.

"I only smoke when I drink," she said, "or after." She caught herself and glanced away, her tan cheeks showing a slight flush. Her eyes slid back over to meet my one opened eye. She grinned. "So what're you doing now? You're graduating, right? It's time to celebrate."

"You know, I was just thinking the exact same thing." I said.

I smiled, again like a cat, and Boricua smiled back.

I closed my eye, savoring the moment, happy to be alive, feeling the doors opening on a new rich chapter of my life.

And I go,
Out of the cage my mind built for me,
Into the fire of my heart's desire.
My logic did deny myself too long.
So I shall sin again,
And again,
And again.

Copyright © Brian Childs 2005