text: The suburbs constantly sing with the tinny buzz of lawnmowers. In the summer, suburbia sweats the smell of freshly cut grass- manicured lawns. The fall is for breathing out leaves needing to be raked. It was chilly for September, thought Miriam. She wiped the moisture from her brow and threw the rake down in disgust. She was angry at the leaves for still being soaked from the rain two nights ago. As the wind stirred again, she kicked the leaves and decided that her neighbor James could take over tomorrow. He already mowed her lawn in the summers. She would have to find a new way to pay him back. Inside, Miriam realized that she had missed a call from Benjamin. She called him back before taking off her shoes. Ben wanted to know if she needed a ride to Church tomorrow. Always so gracious, she thought, and decided to accept. And spent the rest of the night massaging her sore muscles. The next morning, Ben is fifteen minutes late, but Miriam still jumps when she hears the horn honk. She rushes through her makeup, slapping on foundation, concealer, blush, lipstick, and eyeshadow. She thinks twice about wearing the clingy red dress. After all, she does not want Pastor C. to call her a Jezebel- again. The dress wins the argument. Five minutes after mounting into the car and warmly greeting Ben, Miriam shouts in panic, "Oh, no- I forgot my earrings." "This is not a disaster, Miriam," responds Ben, with a smile. "Do you want to go back and get them?" he asks. "That's what I love about you," said Miriam, realizing too late the words that she had let escape her mouth. She had confessed a secret, long buried in her heart, that she had guarded like a security guard does a bank vault. But- it was the nonchalance at which the words had been uttered that upset her most. There was an awkward silence, above which only the swish-swish of the windshield wipers could be heard. Then, Ben, in that slow way of drawing out the words like he was accustomed to- listening to him was like watching honey or molasses run- said, "I like you too, Miriam." She chuckled, half in disgust at herself. But, in her head, dangerous thoughts began to cyclone like a whirlpool. Miriam dared not fantasize. Usually, their conversation would flow easily- like a gentle river rushing along. But, today, Miriam is too inside of her head to listen to Ben as he makes small talk. She tries to pay attention. She realizes that Ben is in the middle of telling her about how his wife isn't feeling well. "Yes," he says, "We think that maybe at dinner last night she ate oysters that had gone bad." "Oh," replies Miriam, not even looking at him. "I'll have to call her." There was another long pause. By this point, they were halfway to Church. Miriam saw the familiar bar, Lucky Strike, where she had met Ben's wife, dancing on a table, almost a decade ago. Suddenly, Ben turns the car off the route into a parking lot. "Something wrong, Ben?" Miriam asks, nervously. "I'm curious..." Ben begins to say but does not finish. Instead, he doesn't lean in, but pounces on her- lunging a kiss at her that bruises her lips. For Miriam, there is no reaction, just the taking over of instinct. Something swells up inside of her. A wave of relief, of pleasure, mixed with happy surprise. She responds, enthusiastically, almost clashing with his teeth. The wave bursts. Slowly, a moan escapes from her lips that causes Ben to pull back. The moan is deep, raw, and guttural- full of need- like an animal. He remembers his wife at home throwing up chunks of gelatinous shellfish in the bathroom. Her moans and groans of pain- full of discomfort- were just as raw, as deep, as needful the night before. "We can't do this, Miriam," Ben finally drawls out. "I'm sorry." "I'm sorry too," Miriam replies, pulling down the passenger headboard to check her lipstick in the mirror. She wasn't sorry. The kiss had released a longing inside of her. She didn't care about Lucy, his wife and her best friend, sick in bed. Miriam thought about reapplying her makeup and decided against it. No need to tempt Pastor C.'s judgment. "Yes, you're right," Miriam slithered out, looking Ben deeply in his brownish-blue eyes, one of her favorite things about him. "It wouldn't be fair to Lucy." "Or Ivan." "Yes, Ivan, too," she repeated, with a sigh. "How is Ivan?" said Ben, as if he were easing into a cold swimming pool. "Is he back in the country?" he asked. "No, he's still abroad," replied Miriam- continuing this conversation with the same enthusiasm as she would undergo a root canal. "He's coming for Christmas...but we should get to Church. It's late." As they start to drive off, Miriam's mind begins to clear like the clouds after a storm. She remembers Ivan. Ivan who is milky-white to Ben's sun-kissed tones. Ivan who is shorter than Ben. Ivan, who is not here. Ben fidgets with the radio dial, turning on Christian Lite FM. A familiar hymn about taking it one day at a time and waiting upon the Lord is in the middle of playing. Miriam decides that she will not tell her husband about the kiss. Smiling to herself, she thinks, "it'll be our little secret." The rain begins falling in heavy curtains, and Ben, increasing the wipers, clears his throat and says, "Looks like it's going to thunderstorm- again." "Yes," replied Miriam, back again, sitting Shiva, with her thoughts. She felt like she had lost something with that kiss. An idea of who she was- her sanity, her self-respect, her moral center. But she had gained a new understanding about passion, and desire, and what it meant to be loved. And that made her even more afraid. Miriam stared straight ahead, into and through the rain, and thought, the leaves will have to wait.