#76: It Stuck With Me – No. 02
A vignette called ‘A Single Playing Card’; discounted paid subscription offer!
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[Image description: Text ‘It Stuck With Me No. 02’ on a lilac background]
A Single Playing Card
It’s break time at my Church of England Primary School, and the summer sun is warming the uneven edges of the asphalt playground. We’re nine, or maybe ten, sprawling around in our blue gingham summer dresses and scuffed shoes, our heads full of gossip; who’s allowed to stay up late on a Friday night to watch Friends and who’s gonna have us round for the next sleepover.
Someone suggests a handstand contest on the brick wall of the Year 5 classroom; there’s grass and bushes around to soften our landing.
Halfway through our first wobbly attempt, we spot something. It’s half-buried in the dry and crumbly soil. Someone crouches down and pulls it out. It’s a playing card. Just a single one. It isn’t like the ones we use at wet-play with lattice or crosshatch patterns on the back. This one’s got a glossy but faded photo on its back instead.
It’s a couple. A man and a woman, naked.
We stare, frozen for a moment, trying to work out what we’re seeing. They’re tangled up in each other in a way that makes no sense, but still sends a shiver through the group. We crowd round it like it’s a treasure map.
We already know we’re not supposed to be looking at this. We just don’t know why.
At home, I’ve got a book my mum gave me, ‘Where Do Babies Come From?’, one of those matter-of-fact, books with pictures in pastel colours and gentle captions reading “Penis” and “vagina” in rounded, friendly fonts. I read it in secret, sitting cross-legged on my bed. I’d shown it to the others once. We flipped through it together, breathless. One of the girls said her mum definitely wouldn’t approve. That made it feel even more important.
So when we find the card, we know the three-letter word for what’s happening in the picture.
But we don’t know the exact name for what we’re looking at, but we understand it’s a ‘position’. The woman’s sitting backwards, the man sort of folded under her, their bodies joined in a way that feels equally impossible and impressive. His penis is bent up, so that it’s right inside her. It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen. We stare in silent awe, wide-eyed and breathless.
One girl giggles and instantly clamps her hand over her mouth. It’s mesmerising and we can’t look away. We decide (without really deciding) that this thing is important. Something powerful that’s slipped from the grown-up world into ours and landed at our feet.
So we bury it.
Carefully, reverently, under a bush. We smooth the dirt flat with our hands, then scurry off before anyone can see. It’s our secret now.
Every breaktime after that for about two weeks, we sneak away to dig it up again. We crouch down low, scraping the dirt with twigs and fingernails, until we find its edges. We each get a turn at scrutinising it. Whoever’s holding it stays quiet, frowning with concentration.
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Previous posts in the ‘It Stuck With Me’ series:
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I’m Almaz Ohene, a Creative Copywriter, Freelance Journalist and Accidental Sexpert.
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