My Body is a Cage and Other Stories

would have been more feminist to pay half or if letting him pay for it all is reparations. Perhaps
the feminism that demands I pay half doesn’t considerall axes of oppression, that not all women
can afford to pay half. If we are not paid proportionallyto men, how can we pay proportionally
to men? Or perhaps I really should have paid halfsince I am most certainly paid more than black
and brown women. His hand is suddenly on my rightknee. It’s warm, just resting there. Not
gripping. Now I have to be present and actually thinkabout what is happening.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Your leg was bouncing.”
“That happens. I drank a Mountain Dew before we gothere. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
His hand leaves and I kind of want it back.
“I know it’s pretty much battery acid and that itwill give me diabetes one day, but it is
quite literally the nectar of the gods.”
He laughs and it’s soft. He seems to be a very softsort of person.
“I prefer Dr. Pepper.”
I glance at him. His arms are a bit muscular, andthere is nothing really poking out
beneath his flannel shirt.“Are you a health nut?”
“Not at all. Why?”
“Just curious.” God, please don’t let him be too conventionallyattractive under there.
Please let him have a roll or two. I won’t be ableto do this otherwise.
He eats a lot of the popcorn and so I do too. Ouroily fingers touch when we reach for
more at the same time, and I think I wouldn’t mindholding his hand. Butter and all.