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Peruvian Nights

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Ryan Gelpke

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“Ah, the splendor of the Atlantic dawn, akin to the bloom of morning glory! But as the sun casts its final rays upon the ocean’s edge, we bid farewell to the radiant god Helios, who, with a petit mort, falls spent into the embrace of Pacific dusk.”

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“Inside, it’s a cauldron of energy with heads swinging in screw-faced joy to percussive Latin rhythms. The Panamanians are a good-looking, loose-hipped race, and they know it.”

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“Jerry turns right and jostles through a crowd onto Casco Viejo, where the smell of fried plantains and sweet coconut lingers on the warm night air. He heads us down a narrow street of elegant colonial buildings tucked inside the centuries-old city walls. Everywhere, we pass bars and brothels open to restless newcomers seeking another raucous night.”

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“Parading around like she owns the place." This would be charged of women and girls who exhibited themselves: their bodies. Particularly if their bodies were imperfect in obvious ways– too fat. Appearing in public when they should be ashamed of how they looked or in any case aware of how they looked. Of how unsparing eyes would latch onto them, assessing. Never was such a charge made of men or boys. There appeared to be no masculine equivalent for "making a spectacle, parading around." As, you'd discover, there was no masculine equivalent for "bitch, slut.”

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“She feel these hands tremble, and she could feel Mr. Kidder’s excitement. How eager she was to be gone from this room. Her heart was beating in mild revulsion from the man’s touch, but Katya forced herself to remain still, politely unresisting. In Mr. Kidder’s eyes, which brimmed with moisture, Katya saw such tenderness for her, such desire, or love, she felt that her throat might close, she might begin to cry. Gravely Mr. Kidder lowered his face to hers. Katya held her breath, but he just brushed his lips against her forehead and did not try to kiss her on the mouth.”

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“NO KISS FORGOTTEN; it resides in the memory as in the flesh, and so Katya many times felt the press of Marcus Kidder’s warm mouth on hers in the days and especially in the nights following. And her heartbeat quickened in protest: How could you! Kiss him! That old man! Kiss him! Let him put his arms around you ad kiss you and kiss him back! The old man’s mouth and Katya Spivak’s mouth! How could you.”

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