Uncle Bill shut off the stereo. We'd been listening to progressive country mast of the evening; it seemed to be all they had in their collection. I'd never cared much for country. Disco was more my style. After a few LP sides of Townes Van Zandt and Michael Murphy and Tony Rice, it was hard to stay impassive, and I was thinking about Cherokee fiddles and a horse named Wildfire and California autumns and White Freightliners. I followed Aunt Cheryl up the stairs, to the bedroom they'd fixed for me. She's taller than I am, two or three inches, and I stood in the doorway looking up at her as we said goodnight. For no real reason, I tiptoed up and put one hand on her shoulder and kissed her soft pale lips. I felt them tremble warm against mine. My chest touched hers too, and her tits jiggled inside her sweater.
She stepped back, brushing at her hair, and said, "Goodnight, Elizabeth." It was like she wanted to get out of my reach or something, and it made me feel funny. I'd only kissed her goodnight, for Chrissake! "I'll see you in the morning," she added, turning, going down the hall.
"Thanks again for taking me in," I said, in a soft voice. She probably didn't hear. Uncle Bill was coming up the stairs as she went into their room and I waved to him. "Night! See you on the sunny side."
"Goodnight, Elizabeth," he said. He didn't smile the way Daddy did. For a moment, he hesitated at the door, then he opened it and went inside. I retreated into my room, closed the door too. There seemed to be a lot of doors shutting all of a sudden.