Lemon Read Online Free

looks fatter. The medication always puffs her up. Makes me think of those Guantánamo prisoners being mainlined antidepressants until they get so stupid they don’t know who they are anymore. They start calling the guards their daddies and do everything they tell them. Zippy doesn’t
know who she is anymore, if she ever did. She used to heat pins over a flame then stick them into her wrists. She didn’t go for the arteries, just wanted to cause pain because she said feeling pain was better than feeling nothing. She’d make a pattern of black dots with the pin. Over a week the dots would turn from black to yellow and she’d start picking at them to make sure they wouldn’t heal. The open sores stuck to her clothing. She’d yank her sleeves over her hands. Even after the wounds healed they’d remain swollen for months. When she progressed to razor blades, I told Damian. The way I see it I was partially responsible. She couldn’t feel love for me so she cut herself. I’ve quit trying to be loveable. Being adopted makes it easy: I was damaged from the start. Unwanted goods.
    Zippy sees me and jumps up and down as though she’s just won something. She grabs me and pulls me into the store. ‘How are you? Sweetness, it’s so good to see you, you look … you look so grown-up.’
    â€˜Damian says you think I’ll never forgive you. I forgive you. Don’t carry that around.’ I can’t stand being somebody else’s baggage.
    Already there’s nothing to say. She sits on a bloated couch and pats the spot beside her.
    â€˜I’ve got to get to work,’ I say.
    â€˜Just for a sec, honeybunch. Just give me a minute.’
    The truth is I want her to hold me, make it all better the way she could before the pins.
    â€˜You were the most beautiful baby,’ she says, like she always does. ‘I took one look at you and knew I’d love you forever.’
    What a careless word love is. People toss it around.
    â€˜Do you like working here?’ I ask.
    â€˜Oh, Lloyd’s fabulous.’ I see an ape man in the back watching us. She’s always been a good lay, all those years tranked in a bathrobe.
    â€˜I’m still in training,’ Zippy whispers. ‘Lloyd’s been so patient. Let me look at you.’
    I stare back at her, see the fear in her eyes. ‘I forgive you,’ I say again.
    â€˜Why won’t she buy you some pretty clothes?’
    â€˜I’ve got to run.’ I quickly kiss her forehead. It feels moist. I’ve made her sweat.
    Sometimes I think I’m going nuts. Usually when I’m scooping ice cream for overfed Homo sapiens . I start freaking about being trapped underground with a thousand humans. I watch them clogging the mall, picking their noses, trying to figure out what to consume next. I start visualizing their gastrointestinal tracts, plugged with burgers, fries, wings, pizza, slushies. I start thinking about toilets and all the shit in pipes all around me. I look at the paraplegic who buys frozen yogourt for his parrot. The parrot sits on the handlebars of his motorized wheelchair. The paraplegic feeds the parrot the yogourt with a stir stick. I stare at the old guy in the Speedy Muffler cap who orders vanilla softees and grabs his crotch when I hand them to him. I see parents shouting at their consumer trainees then buying them more stuff. I think about China, all that economic growth blackening the rivers, lungs and faces – killing people. I think about all the wars going on for no good reason, and those Africans fighting over diamond mines, cutting off the arms and legs of children, and I just can’t see how it’s possible not to go nuts. That’s if you think about anything for more than five seconds. If you can stop thinking after five seconds and move on to some new topic, you’ll probably be alright. Drew knows about every stupid human trick going, and it