About the Author Josh Arsenio is ann MFA Student at the University of Texas at El Paso. His work has been published in Penumbra. He Did is his first story in Nuvein. You may contact him at: jjarse@hotmail.com

Jeremy Bloom lay on his bedroom floor, holding 12 pound medicine ball on his stomach, staring at the ceiling fan cutting air. Terry sat on the bed, flipping through an issue of Hot Rod, a cherry red 52 Chevy on the cover.

Jeremy wondered what a woman in a string bikini had to do with old car restoration. The woman on the car bent from the fan’s wind.

“He did,” Jeremy said.

“So what?” Terry said. “That’s what men do.”

“He should have known better.”

Terry flipped a page.

Jeremy waited for Terry to answer, rolling the medicine ball on his stomach. He knew Terry could stay silent the rest of the night.

“Don’t you think he shouldn't’t have?” Jeremy said.

Terry turned another page.

“He shouldn't’t have, right?” Jeremy said.

Terry’s eyes rolled down the page.

“Right?” Jeremy said.

Terry looked over the magazine. Jeremy sat up, holding the medicine ball on his chest.

“Did,” Terry said. “Not ‘will do.’ Did.”
He dropped his head back behind the Chevy, the woman.

“It’s not right,” Jeremy said.

Terry, his head still behind the magazine, said, “So what do you want. You want to go find him? You want to take notes on his daily habits, find a good time and take care of him?”

Jeremy shifted the ball to one hand, weighing near his head.

Terry, still fixed on the magazine page said, “Or have you done all that leg work already?”

Jeremy stared at the medicine ball.

Terry, looking over the top of the magazine, said, “You’ve done that? You’ve got the notes on him?”

“He shouldn’t have done it,” Jeremy said.

Terry looked at him, his eyes hovering above the car, the woman. Jeremy waited for him to tell him how stupid he was. How obsessive. How crazy.

Terry lowered his eyes back to the page.

Jeremy stared at the medicine ball.

Then he threw it at Terry. It tore through the magazine and thumped into Terry’s chest. Terry stared at Jeremy, dropping the torn image of the girl, the Chevy flapping under the wind of the fan.