Tapping Watermelons

“You don’t have to follow me to the market,” Jaimie said.

Milk said nothing, just stared blankly at Jaimie. He stared back, just as firmly and blankly. She started to walk out of the doorway, but he blocked her.

They stared.

Milk blinked before zipping up her sweatshirt, to hide her breasts. Then they began walking. Jaimie had become used to Milk’s presence. It was a little cramped with her there, but while she was once an advocate of change and everything she hated, she’d now become a permanent fixture in his somewhat too petite apartment. He wasn’t sure what he’d do without her interrogations about inane things.

But her television commentary would need work. Whenever they’d watch TV together he’d have to explain every little detail to her, right down to hand gestures.

He liked shopping at the market though. She’d ask how to pick ripe fruit (she liked tapping the watermelons) and he’d get to explain the simple things.

Milk walked closely at his heels, sometimes stepping on the heels of his shoes. He grabbed her hand to keep her from accidentally causing him to step out of his shoes. It had happened before, and he had no desire to taste concrete today.

“Why is it so important that I cover up?” Milk asked. “I don’t understand.”

Milk grabbed at her chest to emphasize what she was talking about, and Jaimie patted her hands off her own chest. This is a conversation they had many times before.

“They’re always out and open in your magazines,” Milk said. He had gotten used to her reading everything in sight to try to understand their culture better. It was easier to just let her read them than to hide them or quit them completely. “But they’re always bigger in your magazines. Why are they so huge? Sometimes I think they’d be as big as my head.”

“Sometimes they’re not real,” Jaimie said. “Like, they’ve put stuff under the skin to make them bigger. And sometimes people take hormones to make them bigger. And sometimes they just come out big.”

“Is larger considered better?” Milk asked. “Your magazine claims what you have is supposed to be bigger, but you always yell at me when I open the door when you’re using the bathroom.”

“Everyone has their own preferences,” Jaimie said. “Some women end up getting reductions.” Jaimie made movements with his hands showing breasts getting smaller to illustrate his point.

“What do you prefer?” Milk asked.

“I just prefer seeing them,” Jaimie said.

They walked in silence again. Milk understood the concept of holding hands in a parent/child way. Jaimie told her they held hands so she didn’t get lost. She was prone to tripping over things or slipping, so he found it more productive to hold her hand to keep her moving in the right direction. If she tripped he’d often lift her back to her feet.

“Wait,” Milk said, after they neared the market. “If you prefer seeing them, why do I have to cover them up?”

Jaimie exhaled, trying to figure out the quickest route to ending this conversation. “Because I don’t want you to share them with everyone else.”

Milk just nodded. She understood that humans tended to be selfish, especially in this period.

When they walked into the market, the old bitch eyed him again. It probably didn’t help that their hands were locked together. “Also,” Jaimie started, lowering his voice, “you can’t let her see him.”

Milk looked to the old bitch.

“She’ll think I’m sexually abusing you or something,” Jaimie said. “And you don’t want to get taken away from me, do you?”

Milk shook her head. She couldn’t be separated from him, but she was also losing her voice. She hated that she couldn’t ask as many questions as her brain wanted to ask.

But she definitely didn’t like the idea of being away from him. She clutched both hands to his, leaning close to him and eyeing the old bitch. Seeing her concern, he withdrew his hand from hers and draped it across her shoulders, pulling her close. She seemed to relax beneath his grip.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go tap the watermelons.”








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