nina semen. • i sit on the steps of our back patio, blunt...

i sit on the steps of our back patio, blunt between my fingers, bare legs crossed at the knees. i watch the dogs sprint across the acre of grass, weaving between columns of pine and oak, pecan and walnut. the sky is pink and purple; heavy with fluffy white clouds and deep sunlight; it’s dusk and it feels as if the world is settling down with a book and warm glass of milk.

the screen door rattles as he pushes it open with his square hip. tucked under one thick arm is a yellow bucket of chicken and biscuits and in the other hand two beers, their bottled necks locked tight between his fingers. i scrunch up my nose and he rolls his eyes at me. “just try it” he says with a wide, white smile. i take the beer as he plops down beside me.

he snatches it back from me and cracks off the top. it dances with a ping! down the steps to a soft landing in the grass. i sip, warily, and as soon as the lager hits my tongue i sputter, choke. “oh my god!” i exclaim, “that is terrible!” he laughs. his laugh, hearty like a boy’s but deep like a man’s, is contagious. i laugh through my distaste. “you’re hopeless,” he coos into my ear after a few moments, draping an arm around my shoulders and pulling my body into his.

the dogs have caught scent of the chicken, they sit obediently at the bottom of the stairs, their bright eyes wistful. i strip the meat off a few pieces with one hand and toss it up. both dogs catch most of it in midair, sniff the ground for any that they missed, and take their seats again, hoping for more. “no more” i say firmly, and the black one i call molasses whimpers a bit. “squirrel!” i yell, looking suddenly to my left, and they bound off in an instant.

i stand and stretch, pulling the hems of my denim shorts down from where they gathered as i sat. rubbing my bottom i frown and tell him that i think i have a splinter in my ass. he leans over and feigns inspecting it before he bites the back of my thigh and i squeal and run away.