Memorizing You (15 page)

The edges were stained and curled. Tears had dropped there and been wiped away numerous times.

And then I looked up the word secret. The word that gave me so much pain. Its definition said that a secret is something kept from the knowledge of any but the initiated or privileged. Sheltered and secure. And that’s when I realized that a secret was okay. Because I did feel privileged. I did feel sheltered. And I was secure. I was all those things because of my ‘secret’. You. And I’m okay with that now.

Love, R.

I tucked it back in the album sleeve of
Sunshine Superman
.

Ryan took his tests and passed them. Straight As. He was happy. His dad was ecstatic. We sneaked one of his dad’s beers from the refrigerator and drank it in the dark of the garden to celebrate. It didn’t take much to get drunk. That beer was enough for both of us. He walked me back home. We kissed underneath the corner oak. Just because we needed it.

Now, during this summer I’m sure my parents were baffled that I began to get regular calls from one of our clients. Judy, the wealthy swimsuit and underwear designer. They knew she was their age, and I’m sure they speculated on the nature of the calls. But it was all quite harmless in nature. If she drank a little, she liked to talk. I didn’t mind listening. She especially liked to hear about the details of my relationship with Ryan. I think it intrigued her because of its innocence.

One afternoon, she insisted I come to her house. She wouldn’t back down. She had something for me. And like before, she wasn’t a person you could say no to. Her lawn didn’t need mowing, but I took the mower with me anyway. Just in case my parents inquired. Because if they asked me why I was going there, I certainly didn’t have an answer.

When I arrived, a young man who introduced himself as Philippe opened the door to me. He looked to be in his twenties. His dark hair had been shaved close. He was wearing a loud paisley and solid white hip-huggers. I also thought I detected eyeliner on his eyelids.

“You must be David,” he said, pleasantly. “Her majesty is mixing up some Sangria. Come on in!”

Judy was in the kitchen seated at a counter that was covered from one end to the other in opened magazines. Some fashion. Some motion picture. She was seated there sipping from a large glass filled with something purple with a floating slice of orange. She was in another bikini, bright blue, wearing a sheer lace robe over it.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she said, looking up at me before turning to Philippe. “Philippe is my stylist.”

I looked between the two of them. “What’s going on?” I didn’t see anything so pressing that she insist on me being there.

Her$ ity fy eyes were aimed at Philippe. “What do you think?”

Philippe was looking directly at me. “Too young for Sundance, Redford.”

“Well, if it gets any longer he’s heading into Steppenwolf, John Kaye.”

“We need to find something younger and hipper.”

Judy flipped through a magazine. Monkees, Mickey Dolenz?”

“Might work. Cleaner. Shorter.”

I had no idea what their banter was about. But Philippe pushed me forward into a chair. He ran his fingers through my hair.

Judy lifted the magazine and flipped it to face us. “Oliver, Mark Lester?”

“You don’t think that’s too young?”

She shrugged. “Not if you worked your magic and added a few longer bits

about the sides and back.”

He studied the picture. “I think I might come up with something fun.”

She parked the book on the counter in front of us. “That’s it then!

Shall we begin?”

“What are ‘we’ doing?” I asked.$ ity fy

“I’m having a get-together this weekend with my friends. You and Ryan will be here of course. I’m just contributing a little fashion sense to your appearance.”

Philippe brought out a zippered bag. Unzipped it. Scissors. Combs. Clippers.

I watched hair fall away to the floor under the neat snip of the sharp scissors. Judy read her magazines and sipped her wine as more of my hair covered the marble tiles. She looked up periodically to check the progress and wink.

Philippe seemed to be a fussy stylist. Every hair had to be perfect. Every hair. He’d cut, tousle the hair, comb it, and cut some more. It seemed a tedious process. Forty minutes later, he was finally done. An eternity as seen from my chair.

Judy stood, marched to me, and then circled. When she returned to my vision she was wearing a pleased expression. “Rock star, baby. You look rock star!” Then to Philippe, “Genius as usual, darling.”

He held a mirror before me. I couldn’t believe what I saw. He’d completely transformed me. I had hair that looked like it belonged on a model in a magazine. It fit my face beautifully. I was awe-struck.

“Well?” Philippe awaited my reaction.

I didn’t know what words to choose. I suddenly had a hundred of them on the tip of my tongue. “I can’t believe it’s me,” was all I could offer.

“Every diamond can use a little polishing,” Judy sat back, closed her magazine, looked at me admiringly. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. It wasn’t like people to do things for others for no reason.

She rose, ran her fingers through my hair. “What? I can’t help you see how beautiful you are? Not just to yourself, but to others?”

I felt like a new person. anyone who thought theyed and d

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

As much attention as I got about the haircut at home, you’d have thought it was my birthday. But I had to admit, even when I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe it. For the first time in my life I felt…handsome.

“You could be a model,” Mom exclaimed, standing back to take it in, hands clasped in front of her mouth.

“A movie star,” my dad said. The highest compliment he could bestow on me considering it had once been his own dream.

I couldn’t wait to reveal myself to Ryan.

The walk there was different. I felt as if carried by the wind. For the first time, I seemed equal to the beauty of the scenery. Not just blending into it.

His mother opened to door when I arrived. She stared at me, expressionless. She never seemed a woman of many emotions. She pointed me toward the kitchen. Ryan’s father was in the living room, drink in hand. I could hear
Laugh-In
on the television.

Ryan’s back was to me, but I could see the Bonomo’s Turkish Taffy in his hand. He slapped it down hard on the table to break the hard candy into bite-sized pieces. A floorboard creaked under my foot giving my entrance away. He pivoted toward the door where I stood. His eyes widened. I heard the intake of breath. He said nothing. I walked forward and took a piece of the candy and put it in my mouth.

He tried to do it without me noticing, but I saw as he adjusted his shorts.

“That good, huh?” I asked in a low voice.

“You… You’$4R told mere…” The search for words was present in his eyes.

The stern voice of his father surprised us from behind. “Shouldn’t the two of you be concentrating on that workout instead of gawking at each other?”

An indescribable look crossed Ryan’s complexion. He gathered up his candy in the foil wrapper and led me to the basement door.

I heard him hiss, “Ass!” under his breath. He slammed the door behind us.

He began setting up the weights, keeping his back to me. His body language was angry. I could sense he was trying to calm himself. I said nothing.

“Sorry about that,” he finally said, his back still to me. “He started hitting the sauce early tonight. He’s got a fishing trip with his fraternity buddies this weekend. He always gets nasty when he has to meet up with them.”

“No worries.”

“I like the hair.” He parked himself on the bench, looking toward me. His face and body language mellowed. “You look really mature.”

I stepped toward him, feeling a kiss was in order.

His father’s footfalls stomped down the stairs. He was upon us in moments. His face was drunk and dour. He leaned himself against the dryer. Apparently we had a spectator for the workout.

The atmosphere stayed tense the entire time. It was a tougher than normal workout only because Ryan seethed his way through it. Weights clanged to punctuate every completed activity. Ryan’s father said nothing. Just sipped his drink and polluted the air with periodic alcoholic belches.

When we were done, he grasped Ryan and led him toward the stairs. “I’m going to need Ryan to help me move some things in the attic, David. You can take your shower and find you own way home, I’m sure?”$4"y fy

The inferno coming from his eyes should have burnt holes through his father as he was led away. I was left standing in an uncomfortable wake.

The walk home was not what I hoped for. Mainly because I was alone. I passed the large oak on the corner. I’d hoped to be in its shadows right now with Ryan. I walked passed. Not half a block later, I passed Ryan’s team mate, Connor walking toward it with a different girl. It seems he couldn’t afford to pass me without shooting me a nasty glance. That was depressing.

Before bed, I stood in front of the dresser mirror and admired my new appearance. It was like being given a new lease on life; a new outlook. I felt like a uniquely different person. It was like I was seeing my features for the first time. And rather than just accepting them, I found them pleasing.

I’d almost fallen asleep when I heard odd noises outside. I couldn’t quite make out what they were. Trampling. And then a tapping. I listened more intently. More tapping.

I sat up in the darkness, looked toward my window. A shadow crossed it. And then I saw a hand. A finger moved forward. Tap, tap, tap.

Startled, I jumped up to the window. Looking out, I saw Ryan crouched on the roof of the porch. I opened the window.

“What are you doing here?” I was beyond bewildered.

An impish curl came to his lips. His eyes glittered in the darkness. “What? You never wanted a Romeo moment?” he asked.

I put a finger to my lips. “Shh. Mom’s still up reading. I’ll come out there.”

I stuck my legs over the ledge of the window, climbed out on the roof. We sat on the shingles. The night thrummed around us. Electric in the wires. Televisions through open windows. Crickets. Other buzzing insects that swirled around the milk-colored domes of the streetlamps.

“So why are we sitting on a roof at night?” I inquired.

“Well, first of all. You forgot something.”

“What?”

“This.” And he kissed me. It tasted like Turkish Taffy. Wonderful.

When his kiss ended, I began my own. His heartbeat quickened under my palm. We fell away from each other, content.

Clouds scudded across a crescent moon. We lay there holding hands, watching the infinite sky.

“What was going on with your dad?” I queried.

An exasperated sigh. “He’s a small, shallow man,” he answered. “He has a weekend with his fraternity brothers fishing in Canada. He’s been in competition with them since college. All of them were great at something in their own way. My dad aspired to be the star of the football team and failed. His dream of being something great rests on my shoulders now. But that dream is still a few years off. One his frat brother’s son’s just got into Harvard. Another’s daughter just qualified for the Olympics. It’s not sitting well with him that he has to hear about this for an entire weekend. So…”

“He’s making sure you’re keeping your nose to the grindstone.” I carried the thought through to completion.

“Gotta live his dream.” His tone was sarcastic. “He’s invaded my life to the point I have no life. No privacy.” He squeezed my hand. “I need to be with you. Completely. My heart hurts I want it so bad.”

I shifted, drank in his profile against the blue of the night. My hand found his cheek. A finger found the space between his lips. His tongue flicked it, then pulled it within. Warm and wet. Just a bit of sharpness of the teeth.

I wished I had a camera for the moment. Crisp, clear shots, a spotlight on a defining event. To be able to hold it in my hand and say… “This is where I thought these things. This is where I felt this.” Where I could have seen my face along with his. Seen the look in my eyes. The bend of my body into his. The delicate hues of the night. Without those, I’ve drawn$ in the Imy on my dreams. The one’s I keep repainting.

His mouth is still colored with the stain of raspberries here. I don’t know why. But the look I remember in his eyes, made me feel beautiful. That remains indelible.

“I know this sounds ridiculous,” he spoke solemnly, lacing his fingers in my hair. “But sometimes I feel like I’m caught in your gravity. And no matter where I am, anywhere in the world, if I wrote ‘I love you’ on a note, and made a paper airplane, and threw it into the breeze…it would still find you. My words couldn’t escape you, any more than I can.”

I held his hand motionless on a porch roof, on a whispering summer night, for an hour before he had to leave. I watched him climb down a trellis to the lawn, looking like a prince, and disappear into the darkness.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I’d never really spent any time away from my folks. So presenting them with the notion that I wanted to spend a weekend at an older woman’s home with my friend was a unique event. Needless to say, there was a fair amount of trepidation as I laid out the proposal to them…together. I didn’t think I had the guts to do it twice, and I was so looking forward to having my time with Ryan, that if they rejected the idea, I rather it’d be once.

When I was done, the room was silent. They looked at me, then to each other.

“Have a good time,” my dad said, picking up his newspaper and heading toward the living room.

I was left facing my mom, awaiting her answer.

“Well?” I finally asked.

She seemed puzzled. “You heard your dad,” she said.

“That’s it?” I asked, waiting for some kind of warnin$ for himy actually g, or instructions, or something that teenagers expect from parents.

“Was there something else you wanted?”

“You’re not going to give me a list of do’s or don’ts…or anything?”