:TO INDULGE IN REVELRY OR WANTONNESS

My first kiss that mattered was from a boy named Riot. His parents were freedom fighters. His mom’s name was Peaches. It was her real name. I think this was a big part of why I felt compelled to kiss him. Not because of Peaches. But because he wasn’t everyone else. It was evident. The proof was in the names.

Riot liked me before I liked Riot. Because I had a boyfriend. Riot played drums in a band. I was always at shows. I mean, my boyfriend and I were always at shows. And my boyfriend had a normal name. I’m pretty sure it was something like Steve or Ted.

At a show one night, across the room, Steve or Ted was talking to some other people. I never liked talking to people if I didn’t have to or didn’t want to. Talking to people for no reason or pleasure feels like being born Mormon. Like your parents made you something without asking your opinion on the matter. Like if I ever had a baby — I wouldn’t pierce the baby’s ears because I thought it was cool. I would let the baby decide they wanted to pierce their own ears because they thought it was cool. And I’m pretty sure that baby wouldn’t make that choice while it was still a baby. Which is why I don’t always talk right away. Because the truth of the matter is that I’m probably deciding something or don’t think it’s that cool.

This night I probably didn’t think it was cool to talk. But Riot came over.

You and I should like hang out some time.

What?

We should drink beer or smoke weed.

I only drink water and herbal tea.

You’ll make a really good wife one day.

We should hang out then.

Cool.

Cool.

Come to the show tomorrow and we can hit the cemetery after. I’ll bring a thermos.

Okay.

The cemetery was fun. Riot and I sat on a headstone that belonged to Joseph “Joey”Wright. He was seventeen years old forever. We drank the thermos filled with clove tea. His buddies were off a ways tailgating, smoking weed or drinking beer.

Riot sketched a pic of me that looked just like me and not like me at all. I folded it into a small rectangle and tucked it under my bra strap. I had to go.

Do you think we’ll get married?

Probably.

You should dump your boyfriend.

I might. I just don’t really have a reason to.

Yeah, I get that.

Yeah.

I’m going to write a song about you.

Okay.

So I’ll see you around?

Probably.

Cool.

Cool.

Cool. Can I walk with you?

Sure.

Riot and I started walking to leave when he stopped.

Wait.

What?

I shouldn’t leave the guys.

Okay.

Will you be okay getting home?

Yeah I walk all the time.

Cool.

Cool.

Cool.

And then he kissed me. Long and hard like it was a huge cinematic event and the last time we’d ever see each other. Not like people who would probably get married.

His funeral was intense. Three caskets all at once. Two of them were closed. Riot’s was the only one that was actually open. But it still didn’t look like him at all. I spent the whole night before sketching a pic of him that looked just like him. I folded it into a little rectangle and tucked it under the beads of his rosary. It was time to go.