She's shaving a new customer. In her hand, an old-fashioned straight razor that makes a thick, sexy scraping sound, on her shoulders a hand towel. He smells of sandalwood and spices, vacations by the sea. She's reminded of Chennai, the evergreen stink of monsoon and the drowsy birds, the hotel room that looked like a brown box with windows cut out by the sides. No TV or carpet. That evening, her parents were arguing again, so she took her sister to the beach. They played until the sun drew over the tips of the palm trees, and then lay down. When she woke up, the sand castle was washed flat. Her scalp tingled, waves crashed in her ears. Her parents cried, screamed, how could you? Yes, how could she? She kept looking at her wet hands and the sand between her toes, the open hook of her sister's bracelet. No. No. Her mother's sobs were the loudest, filtering through the noisy shore, the static on the search party's radios, the flight back and her bedroom door shut tight.

She rubs the wide-bristle brush on the soap stick and lathers the other side of his beard, aware that the first few buttons of her blouse are open. But his eyes are closed. She shaves along the grain, close to the skin. For days, she'll find crescents of hair on the floor swiped to the side or drifting into the yard, needles in the air. The light comes through the window, flits on the black massage chair. It's not quite evening. She wonders if someone standing on the terrace on the opposite side of the street can see them—her arching body, her mouth opening and closing with every swipe undressing the skin, peeling the past. The blade inches towards his neck, now against the grain. Still please, she whispers, even though he hasn't stirred once, and his skin is gentle as water. She knows she won't flinch, she won't blink, but her fingers are still soft and slippery enough to let go.


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Tara Isabel Zambrano has work in or coming from TriQuarterly, The Cincinatti Review, Cosmonauts Avenue, Bat City Review and others. She lives in Texas.

Read more of her work in the archive.

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