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Some of the things that Jo-Jo grunts

(An incomplete glossary)

B. C. Edwards

photo by Ian Bassingthwaighte

Love is just a grunt. The more he does it the more sweet it gets.

Angry is like when we're screwing. Like when we were screwing when we first came up here. There's a lot of whooping.

Surprised is one sharp grunt. Shrill so that all the birds scatter and we only eat berries that day.

Doubt is fear only so I can hear it too.

Guilty I never see cause Jo-Jo never lets me see him be guilty. Not really anyway. Only play-acting guilty when he knows he's done something stupid. But he's never really guilty.

Frustrated is a whine that pours down from the top of his head. It is high and pitched just right that it hurts my ears.

Embarrassed puffs Jo-Jo's cheeks out, bulging and wide. He doesn't know he does this. It's hard not to laugh and poke at them.

Excited is something he does with his feet.

Happy is all in the hands.

Worried is how a dove coos when you hold it real tight.

Satisfied puffs out his chest like he's about to thump on it like something I keep forgetting about from before the bombs and water and all.

Helplessness is that silent pushing of air out of lungs that makes your heart ache just a bit. And right then, there not being any noise at all is louder and wider than anything, ever.

Bored is something wet he does with lips.

Irritated is a dusty rasp at the back of the throat. Like it's all sand in there, all the way down.

Scared is the whimper when it's really cold.

Anxious is a warble under the tongue like it's coming from his teeth. Like even they are worried.

Delight is all in the eyes. And softly from the cheeks. Like Jo-Jo's trying hard not to eat the last marshmallow.

Annoyed is like when we're screwing. Like when we're screwing these days. Less whooping, more trying to get things over with.

Afraid is a quick rattling, like there's something caught in his chest. It's quiet and low because he doesn't want me to hear it.

Hope curls up at the edges, like Jo-Jo's hair after he goes for a swim.

Tension whines high enough that I can't even hear it, like those whistles we had back before the bombs and the water and all. The ones for dogs. High enough that I can't hear, but I know it's there, I can feel where the sound is stirring the air.

Amusement is like he's a kid again. With his words and everything. And he's being tickled just a little bit.

Affection is almost a pur, like Jo-Jo's a really big cat enjoying the sun and not particualry caring about much else.

Trust is when he closes his eyes and pulls me in close.