By Michael Czyzniejewski
From Switzerland, he describes the majesty of the mountains, how gorgeous the chalet is, how he’s never stayed in a more elegant hotel room. How tomorrow he gets to meet the very best minds in his field, how he’s one of them now. He’ll be famous. His life will change.
“I’d rather fucking you,” he says. I think he means it, or he thinks it’s what I want to hear. Either way, it’s welcome.
~
He’s gone six more days. I have work. I have dinner with my niece on her birthday. I see three movies and binge two shows. I call my mother twice. I compile W-2s but don’t file my taxes. I have my yoga class. I go home with my yoga instructor. I visit the shelter, play with a few dogs, but leave alone.
His line sticks deep in my head. I’d rather be fucking you.
Usually, I’d rather be fucking than working. Except Wednesday (not Tuesday), when we order in tacos. Otherwise, I’d rather be fucking him.
My niece is a sophomore at the university. I’m her only family within a thousand miles. This dinner is not better than fucking, as much as I enjoy my niece.
Movies and TV shows are not better than fucking, though sometimes the TV’s on while we fuck—the two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Fucking him is better than calling my mother. No one who’s being honest would claim the reverse.
Fucking him is better than taxes.
Yoga makes me better at fucking, I think. Am led to believe.
You’d think my yoga instructor would be crazy-good at sex, and you’d be right, but fucking him is not better than fucking the man in Switzerland. Yoga Guy’s all Bend this way and See if you can stretch that way. He’s also hairy all over, even his knees and elbows.
The dogs were too bitey or too timid. Better dogs might have changed my answer—almost certainly. Those dogs? Fucking him’s better.
~
He comes home, jet-lagged, starving, going on about the conference. We, suspiciously, don’t fuck. I wait while he sleeps, all evening, then drift off next to him at midnight. He wakes me at 3:47 a.m. We fuck, but I fall asleep. He doesn’t notice, my face buried in the pillow. I dream of what he’s doing as he does it. There’s no place I’d rather be.
Michael Czyzniejewski is the author of four collections of stories, including the just-released The Amnesiac in the Maze (Braddock Avenue Books, 2023). He is Professor of English at Missouri State University and serves as Editor-in-Chief of Moon City Press and Moon City Review, as well as Interviews Editor of SmokeLong Quarterly.
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