Wendy's Cherry Farm

And then, he reached out to hold my hand while he put the other on the small of my back. It was dark and he knows I always trip over that curb.

In the comfort in her own room, she indulges in this memory. She closes her eyes and tries to picture the feeling of his fingers grazing the small of her back. She remembers the way that he offered his hand— an extension of traditional gender roles, a demonstration of his ability to provide. She remembers the way she gracefully festooned her balanchine hand into his rough palm, making sure to slowly and intentionally extend her fingers one by one. She maintains an elegant curvature of the wrist, demonstrating impeccable fine motor control that rivals the purposeful stride of a purebred siamese cat spoiled rotten. She makes sure to follow the most important rule: to never abruptly drop the full weight of her hand into his.

In this memory, her back is turned towards the house door. Four of his friends stand near the entrance and a smattering of drunk freshman girls converse on the front lawn. She cannot see behind her—rather, she is too focused on the scene in her line of sight. A chivalrous gesture, an act of care. She does not see that behind her, his four friends watch curiously as she walks away with him. She does not see me, someone who can see his four friends watching curiously as she walks away with him. Perhaps most crucially, she does not see his furtive, satisfactory smile, his chest puff up, and his chin raise. His confidence and self importance is phenomenological, observable through the expansion of his physical body—an assertion of dominance and pride. She sees none of these things, because she is too busy thinking about how to gracefully fit her hand into his. 

The scene returns to the present. Her body buzzes with adrenaline and adoration. The corner of her mouth is slightly upturned and her starry eyes are swathed with a sheen of romantic reminiscence. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and she smiles softly as she gazes into her lap. 

The curtains close. I clap. 

END SCENE