I ended up in Greece. I was supposed to go to Croatia but things had changed and I was going to visit my friend on a little island in Greece called Sifnos. She is Greek. Olive skin but oddly enough pretty hairless. I was feeling hesitant at first because I’ve never been to Greece, and when I got to Athens, I almost threw up. I got off the plane and it was hot. And you know how some people say “Hot as hell”? Well, that would be the perfect definition in this case. This was my hell. It was hot. So hot that Greek people were outside while I was waiting for the bus to pick me up, cracking eggs on rocks and watching them cook to over easy in seconds flat. I learned later that they were closing down the Parthenon because people were passing out while walking through it. I asked to stay with a complete stranger I had found on the Internet. Please refer all questions to couchsurfing.com.
The bus came finally and I boarded. And to this day I have never smelled anything quite like it. It was assaulting. I felt like the hairs in my nose were burning off. With my first inhale I stopped short, totally baffled. I took a short sniff and realized it was in fact true. The body odor was coming at me in every direction. In waves. It smelled like every person on that damn bus had just run a marathon, had never heard of deodorant, and were all airing out their armpits. Each and every one. The old woman with the moustache. The three laughing teenage boys wearing enormous fake diamond earrings, who could not stop staring at my white legs. The only man who kept coughing and sneezing, each time expelling a large cloud of his spit and germs into the sunlight coming through the window. I went with my instinct, and I headed for the one cracked window on the bus and this was a very bad idea. Let me tell you why. All the B.O was being sucked towards me. Attacking me. Being pulled up front and center, straight into my nose. It invaded my nose. I could feel my eyes start watering. I was frozen. It took about thirty-five minutes on the bus to accept it, and I had about forty-seven more to go. When I finally started to forget about the smell and immediately focused on my body. I hadn’t realized how really hot I was.
I don’t wear skirts. Or dresses. I just don’t. But that day I wore a skirt. White legs and all. And when I looked down at my legs, I felt a steady stream of sweat running the backs of them. I couldn’t turn off the sweat. I felt like I was in one of those yoga classes where they turn the heat up so high, that you sweat like you were made to sweat. The only difference was, I was standing completely still. I looked up and a man stared at me confused. It must have looked like I wet myself. I mean, it felt like it! I would be looking at me to.
I got off and waited in a park where I was told to meet my stranger. There was a concert going on. Faintly I could hear the voice. And I recognized it. It was the Cranberries. I got up, and went to see if I was indeed correct. And I was. Well, about 50% correct. It was just the lead singer.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and there he was. The stranger.
“Hello! Welcome! How was your trip here?”
“Hey, yeah thanks, it was fine. What’s your name again?”
“Niko.”
“Hi Niko.”
He took my backpack and slung it over his shoulder. I was going to object but the weight being taken off me for the first time in a long time felt so good. I couldn’t pass it up. I followed him. The more I walked I could feel my shoes heating from underneath. He led me to his bike. Yes, his little Greek scooter motorcycle thing. I took the bag back and put it on my back and climbed on. He threw his leg over the seat and slid in, in front of me.
I grabbed a hold of him. I remember hesitating, Feeling that it was weird touching someone I had said only two sentences to in my life. But then the motor started up and off we went. And the faster we went, the tighter I held on. I could feel my foot slip. It slipped little by little and then it fell off and hit the exhaust pipe. The exhaust pipe that was nine thousand times hotter than the rocks you can cook eggs on. I could feel the skin on the inside of my leg sizzle on contact. It was a split second that felt like it lasted two years too long. And then I pulled it away, put it back where it was. I buried my head into his back and held tighter. He turned around and asked if I was ok. I think I must have been suffocating him.
The next morning I took yet another bus to the port. My leg, after bags and bags of ice being melted to water, had a large pocket, puffed out, rubbing against my pant leg. I got onto the ship and took a seet up top. The wind whipped my hair in circles. And for the first time since my arrival, the heat felt good. There was something called a breeze. I was sitting next to a man who I got to know a bit. He was from Brazil. He was traveling with two girls. They were all extremely friendly.
“Which island are you going to?” he asked.
“Sifnos. How about you?”
“Yeah I think that’s where we are going to.”
The announcer came over the P.A., “ Next stop we are making is Sie…s.”
“Did he say Sifnos?”“Yeah this is us.”
I got off and I was told to go left once I got there. But I looked left and there was the water. No land. So I thought she meant right. So I walked right. And I walked all the way to the other side of the island looking for the bar she worked at and there was no bar. I started my trek back and saw my Brazilian friends.
“Where is your friend?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think this is right. He said Sifnos right?”
“Yeah Serifos.”“No, SIFNOS right?”
“Oh no, Serifos. Sifnos is next.”

I felt like collapsing. The heat was back. With a vengence. And I checked to see if there were any more boats going out that day that I could catch. But there weren’t.

“Okay okay, we have a room. You can stay with us. I feel bad. I thought this is where you were going. I’m sorry. Just come stay with us.”
I followed him up to the room and put my stuff down.
“We go to beach ok?”
“Yeah ok. That sounds good.”
I grabbed my suit and headed for the bedroom to change. I passed the kitchen and there they were. All three naked. Naked. I have never seen so much nakedness in a kitchen before. I was trying to figure out why I was so shocked. And I couldn’t stop staring. I looked at the two girls. Both completely stunning. One with long dark wavy hair that reached all the way to her lower back. The other with light hair to her shoulders with dark freckles all over. And both with skin that was tan. They both glowed. They stood there. Shoulders back. No nervous ticks. It was like they didn’t notice they were naked. Like OOPS! I forgot I am not wearing one piece of clothing! And the guy was naked fishing around in his bag. Bent over. Hairy black ass. I had the hardest time with this one because I have never seen a man bent over in front of me. And none with this much hair. I’m normally the one doing the bending over. He grabbed his suit and put it on. I focused back on the girls. And one of the girls looked at me and smiled. She smiled and asked if I had a piece of gum.
We went down to the beach. It was steps from the room we had rented. The girls naked. Me suited. He suited. There was no one else on the beach not wearing a suit. But no one objected. I was waiting for someone to come down and yell and tell them that there was some rule and they could not be nude. But it didn’t happen. We went swimming. They splashed around, did hand stands under water, and laughed. One asked,
“Hey why do you wear a bathing suit? It’s so much nicer with no bathing suit.”
I pulled my suit down on the side to show them my tan line and then swam away laughing.
“Yeah nevermind. Keep that thing on!”

That night we were going to bed and the two girls insisted I lay in between them. I lay staring at the ceiling while they both played with my hair, kissing my cheeks. Once again, the word confused comes into this essay. They were being friendly. I was aware of my space completely for the first time in a while. I lay there staring at the ceiling. My hands were clenched. The girl to my right took my hand in hers. She interlaced out fingers. The girl to my left kept speaking to me in Portuguese, laughing every few words. And then I stopped being scared. I just took a deep breath and let my body go limp. I told myself to release the clench. You don’t realize how much you aren’t touched on a daily basis until your being manhandled by two hot Brazilian women in bed.
And this brings me to nakedness.

I had a dream where I was out in public, running errands, completely naked. But I wasn’t embarrassed. This is my second naked dream in two days. I know why. It’s because I’ve been sleeping naked. I don’t usually. Everyone says they walk around naked when they are alone, but I never did, until now. I’m self-conscious even when I’m alone because I think about the possibility that someone has set up a video camera in my apartment. Don’t ask.
But so yeah, naked… totally loving it. This is my attempt to love my body. I am embracing naked. You know what? I don’t even put my shades down. I don’t think anyone can see in, but I don’t even care if they could, because I’m owning my nakedness. I go to the refrigerator naked. I feed my cat’s naked. I do laundry and unload the dishwasher naked. And I think it’s actually working. I’m starting to get to know my naked self. I’m starting to feel comfortable naked. I’m getting to know my beer belly and my round ass. I am accepting my imperfections. It’s nice. A little cold, but nice.

And then he was right fucking there. Laying on that towel on the beach. I walk up to him and he smiles up at me, eyes squinted, hand raised to block the sun from his face.
I collapse into the sand and lie there until I feel him tap on my shoulder. I turn to look at him and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two snorkels and two masks, and leads me to the water.
He gets into the water first and starts to swim. I follow. I look down and mermaids clutching in both hands, long extended jellyfish, point us in the right direction.
Further from where I’ve been. Further from shallower water. Deeper. Deeper. Until I see nothing. It’s black down there. I come up and it’s dark at night. Chris’ feet keep splashing with each kick. He now follows the light of the moon on the ocean.
I yell. He doesn’t hear me. I swim faster and grab his feet but they slip out of my hands. I try again and he turns around. I say, “It’s too far.”
He smiles, shakes his head, grabs a nearby fish and is pulled away quickly. His feet drag away limply until I cannot see them anymore.
I don’t know which way is up or down or back or forward. I roll onto my back and start moving my arms like a windmill. Long and steady.
1 inch closer.
The sun goes up and then back down. I roll around once the sun has risen again and see the floor. The fish look like candy. I’m hungry. The blue ones are most delicious. I put my head down and swim and swim, and once I reach the shore, I pull my head up out of the water and it’s gone. I roll over the tub rim and fall. I lie on the black and white checkered floor, place my foot in deep, count to three and push. I glide straight into the next room, all the way staring at the shadowy figures etched onto the ceiling. It’s night and it’s cold. I reach the bed and yell up for him. He looks down off the side, extends his arm, scoops me up into the palm of his hand and places me next to him.

It starts with a lock and a plant.
Stephanie has been dating a guy who has muscles. Like a lot of muscles. A guy who stares at himself in the mirror a little too long in the bathroom mirror, in the reflections of car windows and Stephanie’s glasses. She didn’t really know how it happened.
One night she is out with her uncle and the muscle man, whom she would later refer to as “Jake the Snake,” and he is making lewd comments and grabbing her ass when her uncle isn’t looking. The more he drinks, the more forward he becomes.
“Listen, let’s get naked. Like how about now?”
“Uh, no not gonna happen tonight buddy.”
“Yeah it is. You’re coming over.” ”Ok, no. Not up for it tonight.”
With the total lack of interest coming from Stephanie, Jake the Snake walks to the bar to find someone else who will be a little more willing.
Stephanie leaves and walks down the street. She starts crying. Not knowing where it’s coming from she starts crying harder because she can’t control it. She sees potted plants outside a restaurant on her walk home and tears the plants out from their roots and carries them towards home.
She approaches her apartment door. Her apartment is located on the top floor. There is a restaurant located on the bottom floor. As she jiggles the key in the lock, everyone left at the restaurant stares at her without trying to look obvious. She is holding the flowers, dirt still attached in large bunches to the roots, and the dirt that has gotten away soils the front of her shirt. She doesn’t often wear makeup, but this night she did and the mascara is running down her cheeks in the shape of tears. That’s what it looks like up close. From inside the restaurant it looks like she has two black eyes.
She tries to get the lock open but after twenty minutes of her huffing and wiggling the keys while everyone stares waiting for her to lose it, she gives up and sits on the stair in front of the door.
Someone from the restaurant comes out.
“Hey, um, do you need help with something? You look scary, like you might hurt someone when they aren’t expecting it. So, anything I can help you with?”
Stephanie hands him her house key.
“Yeah try it. Doesn’t work.”
“Ok well how about a bet? I get it open, you take me to a nice dinner. My choice. No price limit. And if I can’t get it open I’ll take you out.”
This is the moment where she should have run.
Chris likes to gamble as much as possible. Daily. He gambles with cards. He bets on sports. He likes to fucking ro sham bo. Anything. He can’t just ask someone out, he has to make it a bet.
The first actual time they hung out together he brought her to a Halloween party to meet his friends. He was dressed up as Michael Hutchence. Blue face. Belt around the neck. Fly down. Stephanie went as the Morton Salt girl. They walked into the party and Chris’s brother walked up to her.
“You Stephanie?”
“Yeah. Who are you?”
“Hey date my brother so he stops gambling all the time.”
“Ok?”
“Thanks, nice meeting you.”
They left the party and started driving down the street only to see some of his friends walking to find a cab. He offered them a ride home. They accepted. To thank him they cut up lines of coke in the backseat on a CD case and handed it to him while he drove.
“Hey Steph, could you grab the wheel for a second?”
She did. And then he asked to her drive five minutes later all bug eyed and smiley. After that night she kind of avoided him all together. And that lasted about a week. Then he started to be persistent. All the time calling. All hours of the night. One night she answered the phone.
“I mean, are you kidding me? Because its pretty much 4
AM and you really need to stop with the calling.”
“I’m outside. Let’s just go for a walk. Come onnnnn.”
Stephanie descended the stairs and with full intention of telling him to lose her phone number, she forgot once she opened the door and followed him down the street. They got to a fence. A really tall fence. And inside the fence was a pool. He hoisted Stephanie over the fence and made it over after a few attempts. Stephanie shed her clothes and jumped into the pool. Chris followed. They swam long enough for their hands to prune. And then there were lights. Police lights. And neighbors outside looking at the police lights and the nakedness. The police shouted over the speaker, “Get out and put your clothes back on.”
Stephanie got out of the pool, trying to cover herself as best she could. Chris got out of the pool and started to wave at all the onlookers. They both put their clothes on. Stephanie quickly, Chris slowly. And once they were hoisted back over the fence, they were both taken to the police station for being on private property and being completely and utterly naked on that private property. As they sat in the police station, after the breathalyzer test that she passed and he failed, Chris looked at Stephanie and asked,
“So, I was thinking. Let’s go to Cuba. It’s technically illegal but it really doesn’t matter because we can fly through Canada and no one will even know. You just get two separate tickets, one to Toronto and then the other to Havana.”

tub girl

663 Prentis St.


This was the tub she would lose her virginity in. It was in a cold apartment. The floors of the bathroom covered in small chicklet sized white tiles. These tiles were always cold, no matter what time of year. The bathroom door couldn’t open all the way. Only partially until it would hit the toilet, and then stop. The tub was poised atop sharp claw feet. The tub rim curled out and down. It always shined. The lacquer made it dazzle despite its age. This tub was always clean. Every time except once. This one time she hammocked herself in the bottom. Her small young frame fitting perfectly.
She got to the point where she said to herself, you are too old not to have had sex yet, so she decided to. She met him at a piano in someone’s basement and found herself playing chopsticks because that’s what people play who don’t know how to play the piano. She laughed at everything that escaped his lips even though she wasn’t listening to what was actually coming out. She knew it would happen before it happened. She knew this was it.
They walked to his apartment and he talked about his uncle and then about the mayor and then about the movie “Slapshot.”
When she got to his house they played baseball with tennis balls and cooking pans, and then he picked her up and placed her in the bathtub. And one minute there was virgin her, and then that her was gone. Her head knocking up against the cast iron tub behind her. She bit the inside of her mouth until it bled. They did not speak. And when it was over he looked down and furrowed his eyebrows and didn’t say anything. He ran a bath with her still in it. Squeezed shampoo into the running water to make bubbles. Kept the lights off and left her to soak.

2118 N Damen Ave.

This tub was plastic and white. The drain was rusted. This tub was full of different colored bottles, each with a different fruity smell. Three rubber ducks sit on opposite ledges. The fourth ledge has a sponge with bleach. And this tub was for calming and photographs.
It was in a red apartment. Each wall was bright red. The floor was wood originally, but someone had painted them white. Now, the paint was chipped every few inches leaving little bits of the wood still to be seen.
She was buckled over. Put her head between her knees. Tried to breathe deep but the breath would not come. Her friend came from the kitchen with a wet towel for her head, which turned hot upon contact.
As she wheezed, she felt the tingle spread to her fingertips. She felt them go numb. Her eyelids twitched. Her skin developed a sweat all over. She started shaking.
Her friend stared, trying to think of something she could do. She read to her, while she lay on the bathroom floor next to the tub. This did not stop the shakes. She brought in the Christmas tree and plugged in it, but the string of lights did nothing for her. She then stood her up and took off her shirt and pants. Her friend started the bath for her. Filled half way, she stepped in and laid comfortably against the back of the tub. She was left alone for a minute while her friend returned to the kitchen. When her friend came back she handed her a pomegranate and held another in her own hand. They both held their own and started to break them apart, remove the rind and took out the seeds one by one, filling the bottom of the tub with little red beads. Some settled at the bottom, some floated to the top and some swirled in circles. Everything became calm again.


1839 W. Fulton

Then there was the tub that was never quite right. This tub was in the middle of the bathroom. This one needed three curtains to not leak water in every direction during a shower. This tub was also claw footed. When taking a bath you need to place a water pitcher on top of the drain because no plug would fit. The pole that held the shower curtain up would fall a lot. So much that eventually a mop, extending from the tub to the pole, would be the only thing to permanently hold it in place. Tape and glue never worked. They were only quick answers.
The tub was porous. It absorbed dirt and much grime. Sponges, bristles, bleach, and scrubbers would not work on the filth of years of dirtiness. He, rinsing himself of the other women’s smell and sweat onto the tub before he crawled into bed with his “her.” Her eating tomatoes in the tub while she waits for him, when he is out with the other women.
And then one claw breaks. The claw breaks and no one will take it out of the house because it’s too heavy. No one would be able to lift it. The only way to get the tub out is to break the entire thing into pieces. And she does it. She takes a sledgehammer and violently swings downward and upward until the floor is covered with small white and black triangles, squares, hexagons, pentagons.
She walks over the pieces slicing the bottoms of her feet, not feeling anything and continues out the front door.

4126 Seminole Dr.

Then there was the bathtub in the bedroom. Surrounded on two sides by green carpeting. The other two sides attached to the walls. Those walls covered with enormous mirrors. This is the bathtub that made her realize her parents weren’t the exception to the rule. They had sex. And lots of it.
Phone rings, 9:15 PM. It’s the irritating neighbor her family cant seem to get rid of. The one who doesn’t knock and walks through the door during dinner, pulls up a chair, and rambles on about his day. His wife won’t listen, so they have to instead.
“Hey, is your dad there. I have a quick question.”
“Um, I think he’s asleep. Everyone went to bed really early actually.”
“Oh go get him. It’ll just take a min.”
“Ok.”
The stairs creak with each and every step. She reaches the top of the stairs and then their door.
Knock.
Knock. Knock.
“Dad?” Knock. Knock.
She keeps knocking because there are signs of life on the other side of the door. She hears the running water and the TV on in the background.
Still no answer.
“Hey Dad?”
She grabs a hold of the handle and twists. The door is not locked. The lock glides open. And there it was.
Dad’s ass. Whiter than white could be. 35 years of no sunlight white. Albino rabbit white. Cotton ball white. Aspen trees in winter white. Polar bear white.
And then there are mom’s legs. Spread apart in the air, socks still on, being held up the ankles by her dad’s hands.
She looks to the right and then pauses. She stares at the tub. It had jets and a faucet that pours smoothly into the plastic down below. The water is about to overflow, pour over the edge. She turns the knob off and drops the phone onto the carpet all in one motion and then RUNS. Runs downstairs to her room and locks the door because that’s what normal people so when they want privacy.
Then there are footsteps. Her Dad’s heavy thumping footsteps. The kind that make the loudest creaks on the stairs.
Knock.
Knock. Knock.
“Katie?”
“WHAT?”
“Uh, do you need help with your math homework?”
“NO!””You sure?”
“NO I don’t want help from you sicko!”
“Ok well I’m going back to bed now.”
“Gross!”
This night was followed by four days of not leaving the safety and security of her room. The only time she left was in the middle of the night to collect supplies for the following day. Food, bottled water, and large collection of her little sisters diapers in case she couldn’t hold it.
And then there was the door taken off the hinges and her having to look at both of her parents in the eyes. The sat her on the same bed she caught them on, and the both looked down at her, arms crossed, breathing nervously and all the while trying to hold an air of authority.
And then there was when she ignored them for a long while. And then came the time where her aunt sat her down and said, “You need to get over this. Your parents do it more than any other couple I have ever met. Married or dating.”
And then she threw up.

the first of many

each drag of the cigarette illuminated his face flicker by flicker as he approached me. his bow legged waddle got closer and i froze. the vice that has been gradually losing its grip, immediately clenched again.

"just chill the fuck out. she will be here soon to pick me up" I tell myself over and over again, until its too late and i get an, "oh. hi."

the little bit of satisfaction i could limp away with, was the sheer look of terror and nervousness that oozed out of every part of his body. his face got red. his voice was shaky. he started smoking faster. he smiled at me in a way that he has never smiled at me before. it was a new smile. a smile that said...see? im ok. this smile must be making me look like this doesnt hurt.

but in all actuality...i knew it hurt bad. that's the advantage of knowing someone that well. i know what shade of red that was. i knew every look on his face and what it meant. i knew that when he looked down at his cigarette, which was almost finished, that he wanted it to be a new one. that just because he knew i hated that he smoked, he wanted it to last forever.

and then im wisked away. i dont remember leaving or getting into the car. i do remember trying again to catch my breath and it not being there.

i went to the bar later. i met mr. handsome. he is sweet and gentle. and when no one looks, he smiles sideways at me and fishes for my hand under the table. he took my hand and stood me up and spun me in a circle in the back of the bar when they started to stack the chairs on the tables. i dont know if i really think he is a good thing or if its just that i hurt so bad right now, that he makes things better. but then again it doesnt matter if its either. i hurt regardless. he is kind and affectionate regardless. when i fell asleep on the couch, he kissed my eyelids until i woke up and led me to bed.

even if it is a quick fix...it got me through the first of many bad run ins.

the bad...

and the good....