Subjects

Tilt your head back. 

Farther. 

Too far…better. 

Angle your forehead to me. 

Eyes down.

Don’t move.

Rachel’s commands are nothing new; I’ve been her model plenty of times. But this session has taken longer than usual. Not that I mind. 

Cody and I are seated in her bedroom at my uncle’s house. Cody is on a short stool, braiding my hair, and I’m on the floor, legs crossed. Her TV in the background plays a marathon of “best of” moments from MTV’s Unplugged. Right now, Prince is singing a cover of a song I don’t know about loving someone even if they don't stay.

- Look up at Cody. Cody look down at Em. 

- I can’t braid her hair with her head in this position, Rach. It looks like I’m pulling it. It’s not the same mood.

Although Cody’s right, he wants to switch positions for a different reason. He doesn’t want to look me in the eye.

- You’re right. It needs to be leisurely, tired…relaxed. Go back to the old position. Em, drape your left arm over Cody’s knee. Right leg out straight, and left one bent. Perfect. Cody, look down again.

Cody is Rachel’s boyfriend, but I pretend he’s mine too. He might as well be. I let him take my jeans off two weeks ago while we were making out, away from a party I shouldn’t have been at.

The next video starts—Alice in Chains.

Cody starts talking to me.

- The lead singer was essentially playing at his own funeral here. The song’s called “Nutshell.” This Unplugged is technically historic.

I already know this, but I let Cody explain it to me like I don’t. He goes on,  but I tune him out and listen to the music instead. I stop responding so the conversation dies away. Rachel doesn’t like when people talk during her work. We’ve sat for hours with no conversation, sometimes music plays, other times silence, depending on her mood, or how high she is. She lights a stick of incense, it smells like church. After a while, Cody’s fingers start to tremble, they’ve been holding the same braid for a while now. He might also need to smoke, or maybe there’s another reason. Rachel notices and she sounds irritated. 

- Do you want a cig?  Cody, you’re shaking.

He nods. Rachel lights one, places it in his mouth, and continues to sketch. After a minute Cody asks if I want a drag, and I say sure. He holds it down to my mouth and I inhale, our eye contact brief as I look up. His palm lightly cups my chin. I glance at my cousin. Rachel is absorbed in the work, intensely shading. I lick the side of Cody’s hand. He quickly brings the cigarette back up to his mouth.

He takes his baseball hat off and runs a quick hand through his shoulder-length black hair, then puts it on again, backward as always. He clears his throat and coughs. I wonder if he’s scared.

The Alice in Chains set has long finished and I’ve been zoning out, fantasizing about Cody. I want to reach up and pull him down to me. Rachel brings a brownie over to me, and I can smell the faint scent of weed. 

- Almost done, I promise. 

- I don’t want it. The last time I couldn’t walk, I had to drag myself to the bathroom.

- These are way better this time, I promise.

I open my mouth, she pops half in and I chew. It tastes like shit. I wait for the effects to take hold while Rachel makes her final touches. She says she needs a break and takes Cody downstairs to smoke from my uncle’s bong. 

I climb onto my cousin’s bed and immerse myself in all of her childhood stuffed animals, holding my favorite, her strawberry-scented Popple that somehow hasn’t fully lost its fragrance. Minutes pass while I listen to the TV. Rachel yells that she’s walking to the gas station for beer. I think I doze off for a little bit, my body feels heavy, but Rachel is right, these brownies are better than last time. “Strong Enough” plays and although I’ve never been a Sheryl Crow fan, I cry anyway. Cody walks into the room, and I wipe my face into the Popple.

I sit up and start to lift my shirt.

- Stop. It was a one-time thing. I’m with Rach, and she’s your cousin. It’s wrong. 

- You’re always watching me. And at the party, you said-

- Come on, I was fucked up. None of that shit was real. I don’t want you, I don’t even really like you, no offense. 

Cody sneers as I slide off the bed and stand. I grab a mason jar of paintbrushes soaking in deep blue water from Rachel’s desk and sloppily throw it at him. Most of it flies on me before slamming to the floor, the glass too thick to break. We stare at each other while a puddle slowly grows toward the double portrait. Cody bends to lift it. Downstairs, the side door opens, and Rachel starts walking upstairs, the bottles clinking. 

- What the hell?

- It’s the brownie babe, I think she’s a little too stoned and knocked some stuff over.

Rachel sets the six-pack down and heads to the bathroom for a towel. Cody smiles and reaches out a hand. 

- Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.

I slap it away.

Rachel walks back in and starts cleaning up the floor. She looks up at me.

- Are you crying? It’s not that big of a deal. The picture’s fine.

I wipe my face and nod, apologizing while she stands up and rubs her hands on her jeans. 

Cody opens two beers and passes one to Rachel.

He holds the portrait up for us to see. 

I don’t look.