New Short

Here's my latest short. It's too short for a Kindle price, and I don't have enough stuff like it for a collection (yet). In the meantime, enjoy it for free. It was a contest challenge to take one of two quotes by author Annie Proullx and write a short piece based around it. Here's mine:

Long Sleeves

“We’re all strange inside. We learn to disguise our differences as we grow up.”
- Annie Proullx

Adam looked down and ahead as he walked, constantly scanning for trash, gum, or anything else he’d need to step around. He consciously shrank into himself whenever other people were near. He didn’t like touching or being outside. He didn’t like being open and exposed.
The sun blazed down creating wavy lines off of every surface, reminiscent of desert daydreams. People wore shorts, tank tops, and bathing suits. As little as they thought they could get away with. Children ran practically naked, not caring for anything except their personal comfort. Their squeals of delight were impossible to resent.
Cities were not made for summer. They were places that protected you from chill winds, cold rains, and temperatures that froze the soup on your spoon. Buildings were warm havens from the devil winter. Places the cockles of your heart sprang to life amidst friends and family. Cities were hell in summer. Heat got trapped. Muggy was the watchword. And people seemed to melt as soon as they left the frigid embrace of their conditioned air.
Adam risked a glance up. Grumpy faces and hair damp with sweat as far as he could see. He knew those fancy coffee houses would make a killing. Days like this brought patrons out in droves for their frapple-machinoes or mocha-lappies, whatever they were called. Corner stores would have kids lined up around the block for sugar-filled slushy ambrosia. Whenever the temperature rose, Adam wondered why he hadn’t gone into business selling bottled water.
He ignored the weird looks he got on his walk. He got them every day. Even Meagan thought he was nuts. Today her wardrobe had been shorts, sandals, a-shirt, and a breezy woven hat. She’d still complained.
“If men weren’t such pigs,” she’d said. “I could go out topless in a thong and be cool. Instead I have to be a human sponge.”
Adam endured her glares. He knew that they weren’t personal. He kept his mouth shut. There was no winning something that wasn’t an argument. He loved boobs as much as anyone and had no idea how he would react to seeing them all over the place. Adam figured women had as much right to bare nipples as men, even if he didn’t.
He was wearing slacks as a consolation to the heat. Shorts looked weird paired with a long-sleeve shirt. He’d picked a light color and a good blend to promote breathing, but he didn’t do sleeveless. Even his pajamas had sleeves.
Adam remembered the first year he wore nothing but sleeves. Puberty. He looked the same as the rest of his classmates at first, but come spring things heated up. Bullies noticed. Popular kids snickered. Girls walked by fast to avoid dance invitations. The principal had spoken to his parents. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but the words “different” and “behavioral encouragement” caught his ear. Ah, the talks he’d had. His father, looking confused and lost. His mother, a smile of encouragement tattooed on her lips. Neither understood. No, he didn’t hate his body. No, he wasn’t embarrassed by “boy concerns”. No, he didn’t need a new razor.
There were hours of therapy. A week at a self-esteem camp. One less than enjoyable month on a nearly starvation diet – followed by his father’s all-purpose “get some muscle on you” fast food extravaganza. Teacher conferences every Monday at noon. Several chummy get-togethers with the principal after school over a mug of chocolate fresh from a package and mixed with warm cooler water. It had been a whirlwind of discomfort.
College was worse. So was the “real” world that followed. The few girlfriends he had labeled him freak, full of tears and recriminations. Demands for disease screening and the intervention of professional medical doctor types. It made no difference. They didn’t understand. They wondered what was wrong when he didn’t strip in bed or allow full contact touching. They wondered what he thought was wrong with them when they didn’t bathe together. A roommate was all he could manage steadily. She accepted and respected his quirks. Mostly.
“Hot enough for ya, bub?” said the newspaper-stand man.
Adam laughed and tried to look friendly. Normal.
“Laundry day,” he said. “Should’ve gotten on it sooner.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, handing Adam the change with the smokes. “If I didn’t have my wife cleaning up after me my shorts would stand on their own at the end of a week.”
Giving a nod of thanks and a chuckle to appreciate the joke, Adam started home. Home to the security of his apartment. Away from people and prying eyes. At least until Meagan got home. He hoped she’d forgo the usual and leave her friends at work. He snorted. She needed people like he needed privacy.
The apartment was as cloying as it was when he left. He took off his jacket and made sure all the windows were open. Once he was in his room he closed the door and put down the draft guard. He opened his window wide and tilted the blinds so no one could see in. Lying down on his bed he took off his shirt. The air was cold on his skin. He lit up a smoke and started his twice-daily chore. Moving it from mouth to mouth, letting each have a puff. Seventeen from forearm to shoulder. Gaping, gasping, wet little bastards. He hated each and every one of them.
It took him an hour and half a pack of cigarettes before they were sated. Before they’d shut their gummy slits and stop drooling for awhile. They looked better that way. Just like wilted skin-colored prunes. He closed eyes and enjoyed the feeling of being shut. He didn’t blame them for their need. Everyone had a cross to bear. Something to struggle with and adapt behavior around. He would know.
Besides, addiction was a bitch.