Fucking My Indian Sister
I think you would have liked that. Ilit the wick and shouted your name as I threw the bottle through thewindow.As I walked away my thoughts were too disjointed for me to run. I didnot need to look back to see the fire grow: its flames leapt wildly andlit the whole street. I heard the sound of windows exploding at myback. I lifted my hands to my face and smelled the petrol mixed withyour perfume, taking greedy gulps of the scents.The next few hours were a blur of flames and crashing glass as I visitedthe doctor whose bills we could not afford, the insurance company whofound it inefficient to offer health insurance to the sick and thechurch whose pastor had said that your illness was a judgement. At eachsite I painted your name. My face felt sunburnt. I was spent.I sat on the step of the back entrance of a dirty-looking restaurant, myhead now empty of thoughts. I felt I had served you all I could, thatthere was nothing else that needed to be done in your memory. Youwouldn't. Other stuff. It wasn't enjoyable. Nuff said."What are you talking about?" Dr Phillips asked. She took a sip of hercoffee and passed me one. The smell of it was pleasant and I notedthat the caf? name was upon the disposable cup. Brewmasters. A chain.Not useful to me."What do you know about the people you work for?" I countered as Igrudgingly accepted the coffee and then grimaced at my lack offorethought. I'd just brushed my teeth dammit. I took an angry sip.Toothpaste and coffee. Blegh."It's government with..." she said. "The FBI." Is it?" I pushed, my delicate physical state heightening my irritablemental state. After the second sip the coffee took some of the edgeoff at least. I'd never bothered much with the stuff before butdecided I liked it. Was that something unique to me? I hoped so.She didn't respond. "So Jess. You had your first period. How-" Oh, I still have it," I interrupted. "And boy am I glad to know mymedical records aren't read by freaking everyone..." I.
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