Between Our Legs
— by Lisa Foad. This is a retype of comments written on the piece, on emotions.
Page 1:
“Believe me.”
I didn’t. Why should I? The narrator has given me nothing but confusion up to now. No, I don’t believe you. When you spell things out for me, tell me precisely what is happening, I’ll believe you then. Maybe.
“Logic is for the birds.”
More confusion. Birds aren’t logical animals. Are they?
Page 2:
“Our lips were smudged in deep purple.”
Slight contempt here. First, that’s a terrible colour. (Or so I think.) Second, I’ve never really liked girls who wore too much make-up, especially in out-of-the-ordinary ways. As in purple lipstick. You’d look beaten up. Or maybe that was the point?
“Then we frenched.”
Shock, more confusion. “WHAT THE HECK?!” kind of reaction. Aren’t they both girls? This whole “we” thing is really messing with my head. Maybe it’s too late at night.
“We were dusted in flecks of gold glitter. The flecks fell across our collarbones, our shoulders and the blades in back. Our shoulders and our collarbones were bare because our shirts, which were dresses that were mini, were off the shoulder.”
More contempt. Girls who dressed too skimpily, no matter what whether, are usually to be looked down upon. Show some respect for your own bodies.
Page 3:
“Sisco didn’t wear underwear.”
Eeeeew.
“Goddammit, Sisco. Goddamn you.”
Surprise. Pity. Poor Glo. Poor Glo’s mom, seeing that her boyfriend was messing around with her own daughter? Admiration – Good for her, too, for throwing him out. Regret – she didn’t give him a black eye.
“The breeze swirled its way round our bare legs, up through our mini-dresses and around our necks. Our teeth chattered. Our nipples poked through the thin cotton. We wrapped our arms around the cages of our ribs and cupped our breasts with our hands. We were cold.”
Even more contempt. Silly girls.
Page 4:
“We were waiting and then we were waving.”
Frustration. Repeating what had confused me right at the very beginning? Wait, it makes more sense now. But it’s still a fuzzy piece. Grawr.
Page 5:
“We liked the way their bodies sloped and curved.”
Okay, I guess I just really don’t like this story. Silly girls, shallow boys? Oh, please…
“See, their stomaches scooped inwards like they’d been hollowed out. It was like they were barely there. Like something was missing: drive or care. Like they’d give up easily. On their studies. Their plants. Their parents. Like they’d been given up on before.
We didn’t give up.”
That last line earned the boys a little more respect from me.
“Their voices were weighted with things like matter.”
Frustration. She’d better be talking about matter as in… “What’s the matter?” If that’s matter in a scientific way, I’m going to be annoyed. I really dislike people who use scientific words without a second thought at what they really mean.
“And we fell.”
Duh. Could’ve seen that coming.
Page 6:
“Believe me. There was nothing to fight.”
And I still don’t believe, even though I’m not so confused now. So far the girls have been everything I dislike. Thus, I have no reason to believe them. And there’s always something to fight.
“I guess we didn’t really care.”
ANGER! For boys to admit something like that, in such a way almost as if they were shrugging…
Page 7:
“Hands behind their backs, they didn’t fight back.”
Something like pity, or sadness. A come-on-fight-back-please-show-me-you’ve-got-more-than-that kind of feeling.
“We think if we just stop thinking, everything will be fine.”
Irritation? Anger? Frustration? No, don’t stop thinking! Think harder! Fight back, get out of there. Fight back, please!
Page 8:
“In our heads, there’s nothing but static. There’s nothing but snow. Poor resolution. Colour bleeding. Colour bars.”
Mild amusement. Your own fault.
“But after this, we won’t wait. We won’t wave. We won’t say a word. We’ll roll over. We’ll tug the skirt ends of our dresses that are mini, down. We’ll tug the shirt ends of our dresses that are mini, up. And we’ll stand. We’ll suck in our stomachs. We’ll bare our eyes like teeth. And we will look straight ahead.”
Satisfaction. Finally, some resistance. Some fight. I’ve been waiting eight pages for this! Good for them!
“And we’ll walk out the door, into the night. Down five blocks, six, the most direct route home. … We will not break our stride, a sweat.”
Almost jump-out-of-my-seat happy. Yes, now, leave, faster, faster, go home.
Page 9:
“After all, it’s easy to fall. The difference between the things you want and the things you don’t want is slight.”
Sadness. It’s true. I get this, I know what she means.
