Enlightened (16 page)

“On a date,” I explained in a low voice so that Richard and Carolyn wouldn’t hear me. “I want to go out, just you and me, maybe dinner and a movie?” I had been thinking about asking him for weeks without any real expectations, but now that it was out there, my hope grew exponentially. I had been saving the pocket money I’d received from Carolyn for weeks now in order to pay for it. Since I was asking him, I would be the one paying. He would still have to drive, but it would be a real date, just us.

“Are you fucking crazy?” he growled at me under his breath. “Why don’t we just go ahead and bring along the bats they can use to beat us to death with?” His tone was cold, mocking. I was instantly disappointed, and angry.

I had no answer for him.

I turned, drying the glass in my hand, so he wouldn’t see the pain in my face. This was just one more thing that girl could have with Jamie that I could not. They could get married, have kids, and still be invited to the Sunday barbecue. Jamie and I could have none of that; we would always be outcast because of what we felt for each other. We couldn’t even have one simple fucking date. Everything was about her, not about us.

According to the clock on the microwave, we continued to do the dishes, not speaking, for exactly seventeen minutes. Focusing on the clock instead of Jamie’s silence and anger made the time actually pass instead of solidify like the feeling in my chest. I hung the damp towel on one of the drawer handles while he rinsed out the sink.

Then I just stood there, waiting.

“Let’s take the garbage out,” he mumbled, pulling the half-empty bag out the back door, which he left open behind him. I followed reluctantly, feeling once again like a petulant child. I fucking hated feeling like that, hated that we were forced to resort to talking about our love life over the garbage cans in our back alley.

“We shouldn’t have to hide,” I told him once he’d pushed the bag down into the can and replaced the lid. He sighed, and despite the fact that he was only seventeen years old, he sounded weary.

“I agree, we shouldn’t. In a perfect world, it should be you that I’m holding hands with while walking down the street. It would be you that I’m kissing after a romantic date. We don’t live in a perfect world, Brian. In this world, in the reality that we live in, if anyone realizes just how much I care for you, it could mean both of our lives. Is one date, one night spent in the company of others, really worth that?”

“I’m not talking about sitting in your fucking lap in the movie theater! I’m talking about going out for crappy fast food and an action flick that no self-respecting girl would go see with us. I’m talking about just maybe getting a little bit of what that girl gets with you. Apparently, that’s all we deserve, and I won’t fucking touch you.” For the first time, rather than looking down and getting teary, I looked him straight in the eye.

“Brian, I—” he started, but I cut him off.

“Let’s go inside. Maybe we can sit at opposite sides of the couch and watch a movie.” I held my arm out, palm up, indicating for him to go first. He looked at me and then began walking back up the weed-strewn sidewalk to the house. His footsteps were slow and heavy as we made our way up the back porch, but instead of going inside, I leaned in and closed the heavy wooden door and sat down on the worn wicker couch.

Jamie sat next to me and, under the cover of the dark night, reached over and held my hand. We sat looking out at the backyard and listening to the crickets for a long time. Then he squeezed my hand, and when I looked over at him, his face was impassive.

“I’ll pick you up Friday night at seven, Brian.”

I nodded. I wanted to say more, but he squeezed my hand lightly again and then got up and walked into the house. I sat outside a few minutes longer, knowing that when I went back into the house, he would be gone home.

He was.

The next two days went painfully slowly without him. He was upset, that much was certain, but more than that, he was scared. He was also right. If anyone suspected that we were more than just friends, they would hurt us. It was a whole new level of selfish for me. Not only was I putting myself at risk, but Jamie as well, and for what? We were perfectly happy in our tree house. I just wanted that one small thing, one small victory against them, those that hated us without knowing it. Emma Mosely had something of Jamie that I couldn’t have, and it pissed me off because I wanted that kind of acknowledgement from him. I just hoped, no, prayed, that it wouldn’t end up costing either of us more than we could afford to give.

By ten past seven on Friday night, I was starting to worry about Jamie. He had been late for school a few times and had come right down to the wire getting ready for church, but I felt unnerved that he wasn’t here yet. This date was important, to me, to us, and he knew that. He would have made an effort to be on time, wouldn’t he? The thought that someone had found out about us, that someone had hurt him, sent a chill through me. Stopping myself for what must have been the tenth time, I didn’t call him. I couldn’t appear too eager just to go out for burgers and an action movie. His parents might wonder. My emotions were going to be our undoing; I would just have to wait.

Five minutes later the soft knock on the door left me with residual anger and a lot of relief. The fear had burned off into anger, mostly at myself for being so ridiculous. The relief swelled as I opened the door and saw his perfect features. He was smiling, almost ruefully, as he stood there in a perfectly fitting T-shirt, one that I had not seen before, matched with jeans and canvas tennis shoes. With the way he was dressed, you wouldn’t think he was going on a date, but I saw the differences. He had made an effort to tame his shaggy blond hair. Similar care had been taken about my own appearance. For the first time since he’d said he’d pick me up, I felt hope.

“Bye, Carolyn!” I called over my shoulder in the general direction of the kitchen. I heard a noncommittal response as Jamie led me out of the house. He didn’t touch me, or even look at me, as we walked down the steps to the walkway. While I knew it was just for the benefit of the neighbors, I wondered if maybe I had made a mistake in asking him to go out on a date. I nearly ran into him as he took a sharp right and headed toward the back of the house, and I noticed for the first time that his car wasn’t out front.

“Are we walking?” I asked cautiously. “It’s going to take us all night to get to the theater that way.” Making a joke out of it would help take away the sting. Maybe his parents wouldn’t give him the car, or maybe he had changed his mind. When we walked around the corner of the house, he led me back up the driveway, where I saw the car sitting under the canopy of elm trees that stood sentinel near the old garage. Surprised, I walked to the passenger side of the car while he got in the driver’s side. I waited for him to tell me why he’d chosen this location in which to park. Usually, he just parked on the street, never in the drive.

“I’m sorry that I was late,” Jamie said as he reached behind my seat. He was so close as he searched the floorboard that I couldn’t stop myself from placing a small kiss on his neck. Thankfully we were surrounded by trees on one side and the house on the other. I couldn’t believe my boldness; all it would take would be Carolyn looking out the kitchen window, and it would be all over. Chastising myself, I sat back in the seat and looked nervously up toward the house and saw nothing.

Then the rose in Jamie’s hand passed in front of my eyes.

“It took me forever to get this out of my mother’s garden without anyone seeing me.” He set the rose on my leg under the line of sight provided by the car windows. I didn’t know what to say; I was relieved that he was no longer angry. Setting the rose on the dash, I reached over to hold his hand because it was the one thing we could do inconspicuously. But instead, he took his keys and started the car, his face impassive as he backed out of the drive. For the rest of the ride to dinner, I stared out the window, feeling dejected. I know I had no right, I had practically forced the whole situation on him, but I had been planning this night, anticipating this time with him for weeks. It felt like everything had gone wrong before we ever even got out of the driveway.

When we pulled into the parking lot at the fast food place he’d decided on, I was disappointed to see that it was almost full. We would have to be on our best behavior. He got out of the car and started to walk toward the door. Quickly I got out and followed him, feeling a lot like a stray puppy trying to get some kind of attention.

The place was packed with people, mostly teenagers that I recognized from school but none I knew particularly well. They didn’t give us a second glance as we stood near the counter. Since I was the one paying and the place was almost overflowing, Jamie gave me his order and then went to find a booth. He walked off with his shoulders hunched and head down. I hated it. He was scared, and it was my fault.

I thought that I would feel shy or awkward around him. First dates were supposed to be about getting to know each other, but we already knew everything about each other, especially because we had already been intimate.
What was left to talk about, to discover about each other?

I set the tray down in front of Jamie, and he glanced around nervously, and I felt a tightening in my chest. Sitting across from him, I took our food from the tray and then set it near the back of the table. Jamie didn’t say anything as he stared at the paper-wrapped burger.

“Do you want to go home?” I whispered across the cheap Formica table. Raising his head, he looked at me, and I expected him to admonish me, to tell me that this was my fucking idea in the first place, but he just shook his head and opened his food. I glanced around to make sure no one was looking our way, and then I picked up my chicken sandwich. As I took the first bite, I slid my feet forward so that they were entwined with his. On such a busy night with so many customers, no one would notice how close our feet were under the table. After what felt like an eternity, his foot moved, caressing mine. Still not looking up, he turned up his mouth in a small smile, and I relaxed against the seat.

“What time does the movie start?” I asked, trying to strike up some kind of conversation. He hadn’t spoken to me since giving me his mumbled order. It didn’t matter what we talked about, I just wanted to hear his voice. The fear that I had pushed Jamie too far insisting we go out, the fear that someone might see us there, was threatening to drown me. There was also the ever-present fear that I would fall even harder for him, and that when he did leave me for whatever reason, it would be that much harder to bear.

“It starts at eight fifteen. We should have plenty of time,” he said between sips of his soda. Not being able to think of anything else to say, I nodded.

“Did you see that Boltz is coming out soon?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going. He knew full well that I wasn’t really into video games, but I was glad that he was making the effort. The tension in his shoulders had dissipated slightly, but he still looked wary. I rubbed my foot against his under the table, trying to show how much I appreciated him being here with me.

“No, I didn’t know that,” I told him, and he smiled, rubbing my leg again with his shoe. I relaxed somewhat at his touch, and that broke down the invisible barrier that had been between us.

We talked about everything and nothing for the next twenty minutes while we ate. Occasionally someone stopped by the table to say hi, and Jamie would tense, but generally we were left alone. The movie would be worse. Being in a dark theater alone with him and not being able to touch him would almost be physical torture. Too bad we hadn’t decided to go and play paintball instead. I’m sure he would probably have loved to shoot me right then.

On the long drive to the theater, we held hands, reveling in the physical contact, an indulgence we were rarely afforded. The perfect way his hand fit into mine helped to ease the dull ache of fear pressing on my chest. It was Friday night, and the theater parking lot was more crowded than the restaurant had been. I sighed, and Jamie squeezed my hand once before letting go. All of a sudden, I didn’t want to go inside. As I reached for the door handle, the fear surrounded me like a physical presence, pressing against me and escalating to the point of panic. The tightness in my chest made it hard to breathe. Jamie noticed that I hadn’t gotten out of the car and came around to my door, opening it. I still couldn’t get out.
Someone was going to know; they’d be able to tell, and then they would hurt Jamie, and it would be my fault.

Why the hell hadn’t I just left well enough alone?

“We have to go in if we want to get good seats,” Jamie said quietly as he leaned on the top of the open door, an old black sweatshirt in his hand.

“I don’t care about good seats. You were right, maybe we should just go home,” I said, voicing my concern. We’d pushed our luck far enough.

“No. You were right, we shouldn’t have to hide. I’m just as scared, Brian. It would kill me if someone hurt you because of me. We can sit in the balcony, away from the others, and we should be okay.” His words came out in a breathless rush, and before I knew it, he was tugging my T-shirt to get me out of the car. I was sure he would have taken my hand if there hadn’t been so many people around, because it strayed toward me several times before we reached the front doors.

Resigned, I followed Jamie past the rows and rows of cars on the way to the door of the theater, relaxing a bit when I didn’t see anyone I knew. We split up once we were through the doors; I bought our tickets while Jamie went to the concession stand. It didn’t matter that we’d just eaten dinner; popcorn and soda were a rite of passage for moviegoers everywhere. Since we weren’t able to go out often, we were damn sure going to make the very best of it.

When I got through the line and back to where Jamie was waiting, I handed him his ticket, and he handed me my popcorn and soda. Opting for the balcony, we climbed the long, decrepit stairway until we reached the back of the sloping balcony.