Memorizing You (5 page)

“You know him?” she asked, an inquiring expression on her face..

I looked back toward the field as he galloped away. “No. I don’t.” My insides were like a Mixmaster, churning away. I left school early, giving the school nurse a lame excuse, which she bought. But I needed to get away. I needed to run. I changed into my gym clothes, grabbed my satchel, and ran the six and a quarter miles to my home. during an electrical storm. itps

The adrenaline cleared my mind and squashed the emotions my head couldn’t get a grip on. By the time I stepped onto the front porch of my house I felt better. More in control.

Dinnertime was the most unusual in memory. My parents were more excited about Rosemary’s visit than I was. In addition to making dinner, Mom had made a tray of Toll House cookies. The only time she made cookies was at Christmas.

The house was spic and span. None of Dad’s newspapers lying about; no dishes in the sink. Carpets had been vacuumed, wood floors waxed; tables dusted. It looked as if they were more concerned about making a first impression than Rosemary. I was nervous for all of them. They were the one’s making a big deal out of a small occurrence. My mom had even done something for me she hadn’t since I was ten. She’d laid out clothes for me to wear on the foot of my bed. I laughed out loud when I saw them.

My room had been cleaned and dusted. Fresh bed linens and a comforter outfitted my bed that normally came out only on holidays when we had overnight family as guests. Every corner of the place was saturated with an air freshener. I thought that this didn’t happen in most families.

I can only imagine how Rosemary felt to be treated like royalty. She was fawned over to an extent that I’m certain she assumed she had grasped onto a ‘sure thing’.

When we went to my room. It was my mom who shut my door. Rosemary’s eyes glittered. What was supposed to be a simple night of study had been manipulated by my parents into resembling a date. It made me uncomfortable.

What this said, without saying it, was that my parents had been more concerned about an unspoken matter than I imagined. That they were hoping for something even more than I was trying to force it upon myself. And that underneath all that hope…was fear. Fear that their son would turn out to be something that wouldn’t fit into their perspective of things. Thus the moment became less about hope and more filled for sadness for me…because I realized all these things as she sat across from me on my bed in my clean room that smelled of lemon air freshener, and she beamed like a dreamer who’d been granted their wish.

I, on the other hand, could only hope the plan worked if I wanted any kind of life.acceptancey fes

As suspected, we got nowhere that night on the essay that was due the next week. I talked. She fantasized. I would have to write the paper myself. I was aware of her every movement. How she tried to make her inching closer to me seem like a simple shift to get more comfortable. These were movements other boys would have found enticing and arousing. I found them awkward and agitating. I wanted to move away. I have no explanation for that. I felt bad because of it. But I let her do it, and I didn’t move away, and before I knew it she had laid her head on my leg as I continued to talk.

The evening ended with the obligatory cookies and milk. We rode with my dad as he drove her home. An awkward kiss on the cheek at her door completed an evening that left me feeling strange; almost haunted by a guilt I couldn’t explain.

I had no dreams that night. I didn’t want any.

My eyes popped open well before dawn and I felt sick to my stomach. I made a dash for the toilet, thinking I was going to throw up but only managed to gag and dry heave. I donned my shorts, tee and ball shoes and headed out for a run. It was the hardest run I’d ever done. It was fierce and full of rage. When I thought my anger passed, it would flare again, and I took off more furiously.

I shouldn’t have to fight so hard to fit in! This shouldn’t have to be a battle inside myself. I hated that none of this came to me as easily as it did for everyone else. This was wrong, wrong, so very wrong.

The sun was rising when I finally paused to catch my breath and realized the distance I’d covered. I was in the Glendale subdivision. Ten miles away. I sat on the curb. I was sweating like I’d been drenched in a downpour. My legs quivered. My mood fluctuated between bursts of rage to wells of blackness. It was like being punished for a crime I didn’t commit. It was a shame my parents weren’t Catholic. If I could tell them I wanted to be a priest they would have celebrated the fact that I had shown no interest in girls.

I made it home before my parents rose for work and convinced my mom I wasn’t feeling well. Being all sweaty and clammy from the run served that lie well, and she called into school to tell them I was sick. I wanted to finish the essay so it was out of the way, and I just didn’t want to confront people. More succinctly I didn’t want to confront Rosemary. I needed a day to think.

Fin is killing me.”

Hurdy Gurdy Man album loud and sang to it. I got my mom’s Spiegel catalog out and turned to the pictures of women’s underwear and I masturbated to them while thinking of Greg.

My world was shit. I was locked into this decision I’d made. Not by myself. By everyone around me.

The remainder of the week I’d sit on the bleachers reading from
The Puppet Masters
while Rosemary held my hand. She would, at least, have a knowledge of the assignment should Miss Chase pop-quiz her. Rosemary had that delirious look of ‘first love’. I felt like I was splitting at the seams. It didn’t feel right. I was trying everything and the suit didn’t fit. But Rosemary had already started spinning the tale of true love to all of her friends; of how my parent’s welcomed her in like a member of the family, and how sweet I was.

The only way this would be conquered was for me to take it to the next level on Sunday which would be our last day of working together on the essay. The essay I had completed on Monday. I had started this ruse to force myself to be like the others. Sunday would be the day I would make it happen. It would be my redemption.

I won’t deny that it felt good to see acceptance in the eyes of my family and peers. But it was like being complimented for the best costume at a Halloween party.

As the weekend approached, I grew more apprehensive. I had three appointments on Saturday for new clients with my lawn care business. I didn’t want to do them. I was unfocused and anxiety-ridden. But if I stayed home, I’d be ducking Rosemary’s phone calls that were coming every thirty minutes.

I started my five block walk to the Sherwood Forest subdivision with my contracts in my backpack. I held my street-map in my hand to reference. The day was slightly overcast. Like my mood.

The first prospect was an older couple with a beautiful yard. The husband who’d maintained it through the years had recently suffered a stroke and could no longer do it. They liked me. Served me some donuts and coffee and signed the contract for me to mow their lawn twice a month.

The second was a divorcacceptancey fesed, single mother who didn’t even know how to operate a lawnmower. Her yard wasn’t big and the deal wasn’t tough to make. The third home was settled back into the older, wealthier section of the neighborhood. A huge two-story brick with a massive L-shaped porch that stretched around the front and side. It was surrounded by beautifully maintained hedges and rosebushes. They hardly looked like the needed my services. A brand new Cadillac was parked in the driveway. On the walk to the door, the scent of roses was everywhere. I found the smell amazing.

The homeowner answered the door, introduced himself as Bill. He told me I was looking to talk to his son who was in charge of the yard.

“Ryan!” he yelled back into the house.

“He’s outside, Bill!” a woman’s voice yelled back from inside.

The screen door opened and the tall man stepped outside and padded barefoot to the side of the porch. “Ryan!” he yelled again. “Someone to see you!”

A few minutes later I could see the top of a head with short blond hair bobbing to the front of the house. I turned toward the stairs in time to recognize the face of the player who had nearly toppled Rosemary with a football on the bleachers. He wore a cloth glove on one hand and had a pair of rose clippers in the other. He paused long enough to find a smile that began with surprise and continued to welcome.

“My son, Ryan.” Bill made the introductions. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

“Small world,” he said.

I chuckled. “Yeah. Real small.”

“So, you do lawn work?”

“Yeah.”

“Got a lot of customers?”

“About fifty.”

I walked down the stairs and met him in him in the yard. He escorted me to the back of the property.

“Anything real big?”

“Whataya mean?” I asked. What was the definition of big?

“Like a couple of acres?”

We were standing on the brick path that came around a large oak and I suddenly saw what he was talking about. The yard appeared as if it extended for a mile behind the house. In the middle of this was a massive flower garden. To the side was a small red barn that looked like it had been converted into a garage.

“Holy shit!” My eyes panned the scenery that seemed to go on forever.

“This is all yours?”

“Yep. The house was the first house in this area, way back when. A farm. They sold the land out in parcels to build the houses that became the subdivisions, but kept the couple of acres as a family inheritance. My dad bought it from the grandson of the original owner.” He looked at me, grinning. “Pretty groovy, huh?”

I agreed.

“I was taking care of the grounds by myself until the coach starting upping how many practices and training sessions we have,” he explained. “But it takes about two hours or more just to mow it, not to mention the flower and vegetable garden I put in. Dad wants nothing to do with it and Mom’s too domestic to stick her fingers in dirt or run a mower.”

I explained to him I was the only mower and had only one small power mower.

He instructed me to follow him to the red barn. That, in itself, was a nice little walk.

“It’s kinda weird to see a football player who likes to grow flowers,” I commented as I examined the row of purple pansies growing along the pathway.

“It’s my dad who wants me to be a football player. He’s hoping I’ll get a scholarship,” he turned back to me with a mischievous smirk. “ I don’t want to explain that even in that highly unlikely event, football player’s careers, even the good ones, only last until the first traumatic injury. Then they become car dealers who wear plaid jackets. I, on the other hand, like to have a back-up plan that doesn’t include becoming a pariah of society.”

“What kind of back-up plan?”

He stopped and opened his arms wide across the expanse of his garden. “Why, horticulture, of course.” His voice was full of confidence as we continued into the barn. “The world will never run out of the need for fruits and vegetables, and flower and trees!”

The inside of the barn was dark and cool and smelled of fresh dirt and mulch. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When I could see, he led me to the center where two brand new riding mowers were parked.

“All you’d have to do is bring you. I’d help you and we could probably conquer the whole thing in an hour.” He hopped on one of the mowers and looked at me as he dug a hand in his pocket. He brought out two pieces of Bazooka gum and handed me one. “Whataya think?”

“I’d have to figure out a price. It’s still one of the largest I’ve ever done, even with help.” I explained.

He unwrapped his gum, took out the comic strip, and popped the gum in his mouth. “Charge anything you want. My dad will pay it. He ain’t gonna do it himself, so he’ll pay anything to get it off his hands. Gimme a number…”

I thought for a moment. For a regular yard, I charged ten dollars. This was three times that size. “Thirty dollars,” I said.

“Forty it is!” he returned.

I stared at him. “You think he’ll pay forty dollars?”

“He’ll pay forty dollars,” he said with no doubt in his voice.

“Thanks. That’s great.” I said, surprised to make a deal with a fellow classmate for an astonishing amount of money.

He was looking at me almost quizzically. “Soooo?”

Total confusion. “So?”

He pointed to the piece of gum in my hand. “What’s your fortune?”

Laughing, I peeled off the wrapper, took out the comic, and popped the gum in my mouth. I squinted in the semi-light to see the small fortune printed at the bottom beneath the comic.

“Well?”

I read the fortune aloud. “Don’t say no to a good deal.”

He slapped his knee. “There you go! The gods have spoken.”

Ryan definitely had a way about him. You couldn’t help but like him. And admittedly, he was nothing like I expected. In spite of his typical jock look, he was a genuine person with an infectious openness.

“So?” I asked him back.

He pointed at me, and then looked at his comic. His head cocked in an odd manner. “Hmm,” he said.

“So?” I repeated.

His expression was downright impish. He read the fortune aloud. “What you want is sometimes right in front of you.”

CHAPTER FOUR

I couldn’t believe when Ryan’s father signed the contract without even looking at it. He’d just raised my level of income up by eighty dollars a month. A day that had started out so glum had definitely hit a high note, and raised my spirits immensely. By the time the contract was signed, the sun had come out. A good day indeed.

I was feeling pretty good as he walked me to the door and out on the porch.

“I saw you running the other day,” he said.

“Huh?”

“You ran past here the other day early in the morning. I always work with the flowers early in the morning and I saw you run past,” he explained.

“I ran past here?” I didn’t remember running through this neighborhood at all.

He looked as puzzled as I felt. “Yeah. You looked pretty fierce. Like you were mad at the world. It was like watching the Road Runner.”