Memorizing You (25 page)

We’d stood on the porch one night during an electrical storm. It was fier$ just Imyce. Lightning snapped through the sky like jagged pitchforks. Thunder cracked so loud it shook windows, the floorboards of the porch. It scared me. I worried about being struck by lightning. Power lines being pulled down. I wanted to go in. But he just stood there. And though I backed closer to the house and away from the openness beyond the porch, he stood quite still on the step. Observing it all. I tried to get him to step back. But he wouldn’t.

He sniffed the air. Raised his arms. “Doesn’t that feel incredible?” he shouted about the din of thunder.

The breeze blew in cold. The hairs on my arms and neck stood high. A strange chill ran across my flesh. The air smelled of excitement. And I knew what he was doing. He was enjoying a display of nature from which most men would run. Relishing the sensations of something extraordinary. Letting the electricity of the storm charge him.

Stepping back closer to him, I could feel it do the same thing to me. It was exhilarating.

When the rain finally fell in the cold wind, it dowsed us with invigoration. My gooseflesh stood a mile high. The feeling was indescribable. The booms of thunder that had made me want to run, filled me with awe. I watched the lightning roam the blue of his eyes like magic. Pure magic.

To this day, I still step outside to the porch during an electrical storm. There is no other feeling like it.

The day of the party I must have chosen, put on, and taken off six different choices of clothing. I’ve never had that much serious thought about my clothes for any other occasion. Ask me why, I couldn’t give you any specific answer. I think it was just nervous indecision. Only when my mom pointed out that my last had been my first choice, did I realize my level of detachment.

“It isn’t the Oscars,” she told me. “You look fine.”

Ryan arrived after dark, which meant his dad had left for the ‘office’. He looked sharp in a pair of Wranglers, light blue button-down, and a pair of loafers. He looked me over, nodded approvingly.

“How many changes?” he asked my mom.

“ to the panties. Half a dozen at least,” she replied.

They both found this funny.

Rosemary had been invited but declined to go. No doubt her reasons had to do with Connor. No one questioned her.

Connor’s brother had a house in Richmond Heights, which was just on the other side of the small shopping district of Maplewood. It was a blue-collar neighborhood of brick bungalows that had been built in the nineteen twenties. All similar in structure with attached porch; all with the typical postage stamp front lawn. He’d loaned it to Connor for the occasion, and stocked it with the unattainables. Beer and some cheap bottles of wine.

It was easy to find. There was a knot of teenagers on the porch in the bare-bulbed light, smoking cigarettes. Music could be heard through the opened screen door. One of smokers was Monica who, upon seeing us, gave a cheery wave. When all eyes turned to us, I had that uneasy feeling of the fish out of water. Ryan had no such problem. He was ready with a big wave back, and a boisterous, “Heya!”

Immediately, she began introducing us to the unfamiliar faces. We were Ryan and David to everyone. By that I mean, she didn’t introduce us separately. “This is Ryan. And this is David.” It was the way one introduced couples.

The reaction was as I had first thought it would be. Guys were initially put off but polite. Girls were friendly and intrigued. Boys stepped back after a handshake. Girls moved forward.

The house wasn’t very big, and the crowd was fairly dense. Most had gathered in the kitchen where the booze was in coolers.

Ryan took a beer. I had a plastic cup of the wine. It was way sweeter than grape juice and left a strange taste in my mouth. I found if I swallowed it fast it wasn’t that bad.

As all planets in a natural orbit, the jocks gravitated to each other in small cliques to talk ‘the game’. I felt like a small mo$ greaty fy on circling the group. Monica caught onto this and saw it as an advantage to sweep me away to another room. Strangely, I felt odd being taken away from Ryan. Being near him had given me a sense of security in a situation that still felt foreign.

Monica was a pert thing. But not to be mistaken for being a dumb blonde, even though she’d gone to great lengths to cultivate that image. She wore make-up, dressed in clothes that displayed her figure, especially her big boobs. But she, like Rosemary, was top of the class. If you took her to be dumb, you’d fallen into her trap. She was also the only girl who had held onto the romantically frivolous Connor the longest.

How I got pulled into the circle of girls and their conversation, I’ll never know. Monica made the segue seamless from talking about music, picking some albums to play, having one of her girlfriends fetch me another half glass of wine, then I seated in the middle of their group in the living room. I could see Ryan through the dining room. The group of jocks in the kitchen had grown thicker and louder with the beer.

Turning, he winked at me. The girls saw the gesture.

“Aw, isn’t that cute?” Monica said to the others who readily agreed.

It was a peculiar moment.

I was like a new brand of shoe for them. Something to be examined, turned over, studied. They wanted to know everything about me. Their questions began tentative, skirting anything really personal. Curious about my business. About my friendship with the famous underwear and bathing suit designer. My change in appearance from hairstyle and clothing.

Then one of Monica’s friends ventured into the territory we all knew was inevitable. Her name was Lala. I kid you not. All of four feet tall. Dark short curls and a tad overweight. Two pounds of that could have been in the Woolworth perfume she buried herself in.

“So how did you and Ryan meet?” she asked, trying to look as innocent as possible for a girl with inquiring eyes.

“That’s pretty forward,” Monica interjected, playing the arbiter. “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about his private life.”

But all eyes were on me to see if I would answer. I never thought eyes could have so much pressure behind them.

I did feel it was personal. But how many times have any of us asked a couple, “How did you meet?” It wasn’t like it was a question with more weight for me because of me.

“We met at school. Of course. We started running together.” It sounded generic enough.

“He’s so handsome,” another of her friends said from the circle that had drawn around me. “And the quarterback. Captain of the team. You’ve done everything to make half the girls in school jealous.”

I did turn red at that. My face felt steamy. “It wasn’t a deliberate thing,” I admitted. “It just happened.”

Lala shook her hands excitedly. “Oh this is so dreamy and romantic, I can’t hardly stand it!”

I hadn’t anticipated ever hearing that. But as I looked at the faces surrounding me, I could tell they were as entranced as my mom would get reading her Harlequins.

“Where did you first kiss?” another girl asked, moving in close like we were sharing girls’ secrets.

“In the garden. In his yard.” I answered in a low voice, I could see others in the room turning around and wondering what the girls had grown so animated about.

“Oh my God,” Monica sighed. “Just like an Emily Bronte novel. That’s so beautiful.”

“When did you know? I mean, like it was the real thing?” someone asked.

I thought over all the moments. All of them seeming so special now. “I don’t know. I think it was one of those things that just kept growing inside. And then suddenly one day you realize what it$inI my is. What it had been the whole time.”

One girl pointed to my necklace. “Are the necklaces like…you know…sort of a promise ring? We’ve all seen you both have them. You don’t mind me asking, do you?”

I must confess I hadn’t known so many people had known about the necklaces. I told her it was a kind of promise ring. Another round of sighs accompanied that.

“Is it true he doesn’t want to play football in college?” another girl asked. “Monica says he thinks Connor should be the one to get a scholarship.”

“He wants to study horticulture. He likes growing things. Gardening,” I explained.

They looked at each other like that was something they couldn’t comprehend.

“But he’s so great at football. Doesn’t he like it?” one asked.

“He likes it just fine. He just wants to do something else.”

“You would never look at him and imagine that,” Monica made her own observation as she studied Ryan talking with his teammates in the kitchen. “But…I would have never thought you’d be like you are.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. “I don’t understand?”

“You always stay to yourself in school. You never really talk to anyone. I always thought you either shy or stuck up,” she said, looking me in the eyes. “You’re just very quiet. Very sensitive. And smart.”

“And handsome,” Lala added.

The others concurred. I colored again.

“You and Ryan are so beautiful together. It’s like the perfect love story.” Monica’s hand touched mine. “Star-crossed lovers. Finding their place in the world against all the odds. It doesn’t get more romantic than that.”

I could have never predicted any of these reactions. In fact, I would have predicted exactly the opposite.

When Ryan walked in to hand me another glass of wine, the clan grew silent, observing his every move. Like fans for a star.

“How’s it going in here?” he asked, kneeling next to me, handing me the plastic cup. “Seems like you’re all having a good time?”

No one answered so I did. “Yeah. Good time.”

A broad curl to his lips as he took in the faces of the girls. An index finger stroked my cheek. He stood and left to rejoin his friends.

The squeal that unanimously came out of the girls was almost ridiculous.

“Oh my God, I am going to faint.” Lala pushed her face into Monica’s shoulder.

“I am so jealous,” another said, hands covering her mouth.

“Oh, David, you are so lucky,” another voice chimed in.

I was having an out-of-body experience. My life was a movie that someone else was watching.

However, the more wine I drank, the more comfortable I felt moving into circles that were not common to me. Like Ryan’s jock friends. I don’t know why I’d assumed I wouldn’t fit in with them. After all, Ryan paved the way with his easy-going style. When I joined them in the kitchen they behaved as if I belonged there all along and wondered why I took so long to join them.$sny fy

As the night wore on, the numbers dwindled, we found ourselves in a small group in the basement playing a game of darts. It wasn’t a big basement, and it didn’t help that that it was crammed with an eight-foot freezer, refrigerator, washer and dryer, plus a table for folding clothes. It was unfinished. All concrete, cinder-blocks and bare wood-beams. The dart board had been hammered into at the far end wall opposite the appliances.

It was Connor, a group of his and Ryan’s teammates, and a few of the other girl’s boyfriends. A bit cramped, some sat on the washer, dryer, and freezer as other’s played. Beer bottles and plastic cups were stacked on every available surface.

I’d only played the game a couple of times before, and was by no means good, but I was playing pretty well. Ryan put it down to the wine. Said it helped me to relax.

“So having a natural talent for it is by no means a consideration?” I joked.

His next few throws were worse. I handed him my glass of wine. “Maybe you need a sip of talent?” I felt my own smirk.

Taking the glass he downed the whole thing. It didn’t help. His shots were still wild.

“Maybe if the darts were as big as a football, it’d work better for ya?” Connor jabbed him.

“You bet your sweet bippy,” Ryan came back at his buddy’s facetious remark. “If that dart board was running toward me, I’d nail the bulls-eye three ways to Sunday!”

I grabbed my empty wine cup. “Who needs a drink?” I called out.

Six voices called out. “Beer! Beer here! Make that three. Wine. Make it four beers. Another wine.”

“Dang. IZ aup only got two hands,” I said, realizing my predicament.

“I’ll give ya an assist,” Connor said, scooping up as many empties as he could and joining me on the drink run.

The upstairs had thinned down to two or three couples lounging in the living room. Connor was grabbing the beers, wiping the bottles down with a dishcloth. I poured the wine. We were down to the last bottle.

He joined me at the counter. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you, Dave.” His face had that serious look of someone with something important to divulge.

I felt tipsy as I waited for him to tell me what was on his mind. I sipped from my renewed glass. “What?”

He seemed to be searching for words. “Well, actually been meaning to say it for a while now. But you know that time, back…well…when I…well…did that thing. That stupid thing I did to you? Man, I don’t know where I was even coming from with that trip I laid on you. I mean this is the time of Peace and Free Love; Age of Aquarius and all. I was acting like a real establishment dumb-cluck.”

It seemed a lifetime ago. But I’d never forget how Rosemary responded to him. I could see he was genuinely sorry. It was in his eyes. Something that needed to be forgiven. I, wordlessly, awkwardly, acknowledged it.

“Yeah, well. That was stupid of me. Real stupid. You’re an okay guy and I just want to say…you know. I was stupid. I’m sorry.” He held out his hand to me.

I was astounded to see it. I took it, shook it. Assured him it was no big deal.

His face eased. He looked like a man whose conscience had been relieved.

And he did look different in my eyes. Like I was seeing the real Connor. And he was nothing like he’d been before. There was something kinder in his face. Gentler. Something that made him worthy to have as a friend.

We rejoined the others in the $sny fy basement.

I don’t know how, but Ryan sensed something had transpired between Connor and myself. Something good. His hand gently caressed mine as he took the bottle of beer.