Sky So Blue

Monet Thomas

Great. Now you’re crying in the middle of giving a blowjob. Luckily, Steve the engineer isn’t paying attention to your face. With a mouthful of his cock, and one of your hands pumping double time, he better be completely transported.


Normally you wouldn’t be doing this so soon, after date number four. You tend to save the oral as the final boarding pass into a relationship. And you only execute this extra twist you’re doing with your wrist for a special occasion, not after a long boring night with a generic man you’ve almost bailed on before every date. He thinks you’re the kind of woman who goes to gallery openings and wine tastings. He thinks you’re the kind of woman who wears tailored pants and cardigans.


You let him believe that. You created that woman, which is the reason you ended up at the stupid local film festival. It’s your own fault for letting him believe you care about screenwriting or film noir or anything having to do with those five hours wasted in the dark. And it’s your own fault the last film, the one that should’ve been a relief because the night was almost over, completely wrecked you.


Steve is close to coming. And thank goodness. It’s taking all your control not to sob around his dick. With your luck, he’d think it was because you’re so excited to be blowing him. But instead of Steve, you’re thinking about the little girl in the last film. It was short, only ten minutes and yet it carried you so far away, so quickly. It opened with the girl of maybe 9 or 10 in a white dress. She’s running and you can tell whatever she’s running from is terrible, that she must keep running. You hear water, a great deal of water and the girl is running towards it.


And then she reaches a wide, wild river. Even when the camera pans out, you can barely see the other side. There’s no way she can cross it. But she doesn’t hesitate. She wades right in. Immediately, you and the rest of the audience know the current is too fast. She struggles against it for what feels like an eternity, her skinny arms splashing uselessly.  Now the camera is close to her face. She is not pretty, not ugly, just a girl.  You see her give in. Like a seal, she rolls onto her back and floats. Now you’re seeing what she’s seeing: the sky.


Steve is shaking. You haven’t thought through whether you’re going to spit or swallow. The tears are still coursing down your face, but you’ve managed to make very little noise except for a low humming in your throat. Your hand could start a fire with how fast it’s streaking up and down. But you’re not there. You’re thinking about that blue sky. You’re thinking back to the roar of the water, how it suddenly got so loud, you knew it could only mean one thing. You should feel panic or fear but all you feel is relief.  You and the girl never see anything else but the sky. A sky so blue anything could happen.



 About the Writer
Split Lip Magazine

Monet P. Thomas is a poet and writer from North Carolina. She earned an MFA from the Inland Northwest Center for Writers at Eastern Washington University. Fingers crossed, you'll believe this is a sex scene. Her writing can be found online at Hobart, Nailed Magazine, and Cobalt Review. Older work can be found in print in Arcadia Literary Magazine and Knockout Poetry