Code Name Hélène

by Ariel Lawhon

I have never been kissed like this. It is thunder and rose petals at once. Static electricity and delicate intimacy.

The thing about marriage, I am learning, even this early on, is that so much is said without words. The gift of emotional intimacy is that you can read each other’s face from a distance.

The thing about lipstick, the reason it’s so powerful, is that it is distracting. Men don’t see the flashes of anger in your eyes or your clenched fists when you wear it. They see a woman, not a warrior, and that gives me the advantage. I cannot throw a decent punch or carry a grown man across a battlefield, but I can wear red lipstick as though my life depends on it. And the truth is, these days, it often does.

Luxury is an odd thing. You don’t know you have it until confronted with someone else’s lack.

Angry drinking is dangerous drinking.

But something is different. It can’t be seen or even named, but no one can endure what he did and not come out changed on the other side.