“Hello?” I call when I walk in the house. It’s evening and the lights are off.
“I’m upstairs!” comes Kits’ ethereal reply. She is in the half-way land between happy and sad: the nursery.
I traipse up the stairs practising my smile in the dark. She is in the nursery wearing a long white shirt which falls to the back of her knees which are slightly red from stretching and the shirt is covered in pink paint. Another wall has been painted pink, pink for a girl. I creep slowly up behind her and grab her around the waist. “How was your meeting today -” she begins but I do not let her finish. I have to take her. She moans and drops the pink paintbrush on to the carpet but she doesn’t care about the stain because now my hands are under the shirt and caressing her breasts and I can feel the tension within her body build up and suddenly let loose in one word that slips out, slips out, she never meant to say it out loud, she never meant to say it, the word is Yes.
She twists in my arms and pulls herself closer to me, looking up into my eyes, her hands slide down my back and goose bumps burst like a tidal wave all the way up to my neck and I shiver and she takes it for pleasure and presses harder against me and kisses my chest undoing buttons with her teeth and moaning, moaning, moaning. Cora. Kit’s hair changes colour. Her skin changes. I fight it. I kiss her full lips and she tastes like milky froth. She tastes like baby-smell. We fall to the floor. She is on top of me. I close my eyes. She does it for me. She whispers “Let’s do it,” and there is nothing I can say.
There is nothing I can do.