Forgive Me, Alex (4 page)

I leaned back and rested my head on the seat of my old 1967 Pontiac Bonneville—my "Bonnie"—as I waited in Diana's driveway. I'd honked my horn and she'd waved from her bedroom window to indicate she'd be out in five minutes—ten minutes ago. No matter. I'd have waited hours to get a glimpse of her, a whiff of her scent, a taste of her mouth. The delay was my fault, anyway; I'd arrived early—again—anxious and desperate to see her.

"Come on, Diana. Hurry up, would you?"

I couldn't help but think of the coming changes again—college almost a thousand miles away. I didn't know if Diana and I would survive the separation, or even if we
should
. The next stage of my life awaited me, and perhaps I should move on and never look back.

"It's what people do, isn't it?"

The yellow stain on old Bonnie's roof didn't answer me.

"No, I can't do that. I
won't
."

We had to think it through, figure out a way to remain together, even if it meant we only saw each other during holidays and school breaks. I needed to draw on a little faith.

"Faith? Sure, Tony, and why don't you sprout some wings and fly, while you're at it?"

I wanted to hold her and kiss her, activities that always washed away all the bad thoughts in the world. It was so damned easy—
inevitable—
for me to get lost in her. Ours had been a mutual journey of discovery, a vivid film that would play forever in my mind.

It had started when we first held hands, soared when we first kissed, and been etched in stone when we first made love. The frenzied ecstasy of that moment had affirmed all that I'd imagined from song and poetry, yet the emotionally-charged nature of the event had astonished me. My heart rocketed from my chest and launched me into a delicious world I never wanted to leave. Our bond thus consummated, our love thus resolved for all time, I couldn't imagine how it would affect me, or believe it possible that I could love her more deeply than I already did.

We were now and forever two parts of one whole. Nothing in the universe could compare to that, or—

"Hi, Sweetie, sorry I took so long."

Her sudden entry into the car startled me from my daydream. In adherence to her usual practice, she slid next to me, leaned over for a kiss, slipped her hand into my crotch, and squeezed. Her perfumed skin and minty mouth were like a taste of water after days in the desert.

She squeezed more insistently. "Oh, my goodness, what's that?"

Why, that's something I made just for you, my lady.

Her expression was right out of
Soap Opera 101
.

I almost wanted her to stop rubbing me. Almost. "I was thinking about our first time together. I don't know why. It just came to me."

What a smile!

Her mahogany hair flew loosely and settled halfway down her back, and her eyes teased in an intense hazel inferno. Her mere proximity was almost more than I could bear. The only thing worse would have been her absence.

Our plans involved meeting most of our senior class at a park for "Senior Ditch Day." The teachers and administrators knew about it, yet they'd apparently chosen to look the other way and make no issue of it. After all, most of them had participated in this bold and venerable tradition in their day.

Although Diana was only a junior, she was welcome as my girlfriend. She seemed to have other ideas presently, however, and if she continued to rub me as she did,
where
she did, I was liable to jump right through Bonnie's roof.

Never one to miss the perfect opportunity for a romantic gesture, I pulled a sheet of paper from my shirt pocket and unfolded it. "I wrote this for you last night."

"For me?"

She spread the sheet on her lap, and I quoted it in my mind as she read it.

~~~

For Diana, my inspiration:

In your reflective eyes, I see the future for which I long. In your smile, I see the light that guides my way. In your loving consideration and generosity, I see the thrill of hope. In your intelligence and love affair with humor, I see the joy of great potential. I see everything in you. Without you, I am blind.

All my love, Tony

~~~

She pressed her lips against my ear and whispered, "We could be a little late to the picnic, you know."

Those words, coupled with her tongue probing my ear, were seductive enough. But the look on her face! This wasn't my intention. I'd wanted to let her know, in proper terms, how I felt about her. Yet how could I resist? One might as well have asked me to stop breathing.

I choked down the lump that had returned to my throat. "Absolutely!"

***

I steered Bonnie with my left hand as Diana nestled beside me and snuggled my right hand in her lap. Bliss lay over us like a down comforter. An enervating aroma—perfume, deodorant, sweat, and a musky, bittersweet reminder of recent activities—whirled me into recollections of this morning. I allowed it to sink in, afraid that words might overwhelm the sensory delight. Diana appeared to be of similar mind, with a gentle smile and a far-off gaze. I conjured tremendous determination, all the force of my will, to keep my eyes off her and on the road.

I would graduate in four weeks, and we'd spend one last summer vacation together before I departed for college in North Carolina. After that, who knew?

Shit!

I crashed down from the high I'd just experienced. Lately, such thoughts invaded and spoiled even the best of moments. I couldn't escape them; they bled me like leeches in the Fox River, determined to ruin an otherwise enjoyable experience.

Damn it! Why must I constantly be my own worst enemy? Knock it off!

My gloom dissipated as I turned into Flora Park for today's big event. Several of my classmates already whooped it up. I parked the car and rejoiced in Diana's laughter as she responded to Tom Coronado's antics. My good friend wore a "beer hat" and danced around like a six-foot-four-inch leprechaun in lead boots.

Tom and I had conspired to invent the beer hat at a party last New Year's Eve. Those party hats with the tight elastic chinstraps had inspired us, but instead of a conical hat, we'd strapped on a plastic cup containing as much beer as one dare place on top of one's head. Poorly balanced, it posed a high risk of spillage—the whole point of the game.

Diana hooked my arm and slid out of my side of the car while Tom danced his exaggerated slow jig up to greet us.

He offered his best Irish brogue. "Top o' de fine morn, an' a hardy welcome to ye."

He shook my hand and bowed, the preplanned result of which is the emptying of his beer hat down the front of my tee shirt. I saw it coming, but he'd trapped me against the car and I was unable to evade the spill. Everyone around got a good laugh, including me, who'd dressed with such a possibility in mind.

I played along. "Why, thank you, sir. You are a gentleman, a scholar, and a drunken bum." It was the proper response according to the rules of our game.

He became Winston Churchill. "Tit-tit, no need for that, what. I don't allow just anyone to call me a gentleman, you know."

"Please accept my sincere apologies, Lord Bum of Drunkenness."

Like a rock star from the British Invasion, he said, "Hip-hip, right-o, and all that rot."

The game thus played, party time ensued. We joined a few others who had gathered for Tom's performance, and meandered to where the rest of our group, about fifty kids, had set up.

Tom leaned down and pulled three cans of Old Style beer from a cooler. Two nineteen-year-olds in our group, being of legal drinking age, had taken up a collection yesterday, and we'd stocked up for a long party. The cops, much like the school administration, appeared to be looking the other way.

Tom handed two cans to Diana and me. "Here you go, kids. Drink up."

"Geez, you guys didn't waste any time getting sloshed." I shrugged my shoulders at Diana, who rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Don't be a wimp, Tony-Boy." He chugged half a can and expelled a burp for the ages. "Ah, breakfast of champions."

Diana laughed. "Real nice, Tom."

"Thank you, my dear, I do try." He turned to me again. "Well?"

"All right, all right, hold your horses." I popped the top off the can and took a deep breath. "Well, shit, here goes nothin'."

***

Diana finished talking with several other girls about whatever girls talked about, and jogged over. She plopped onto the blanket and tackled me.

"Kiss me, my prince."

"You wouldn't be getting a little tipsy, would you?" I grabbed her ass and grinded her to me.

"Yep, and happy."

"I'll drink to that."

"Not until you kiss me."

We kissed to the edge of indecency, and my hands became bolder by the second, but she pulled away and hopped up from the blanket. "I've got to go talk with Emily."

Oh sure, leave me here holding my—
"If you must." I admired the view below her tied-up yellow shirt as she scooted away. She kindly threw in a couple hip flourishes.

About thirty yards beyond her, on the edge of another picnic area, two guys played catch with a Frisbee—one about our age, the other in his mid-twenties. The older one fixed his gaze upon Diana. It happened often and I tried to compose myself when it did, but it put me a little on edge. The younger one joined the festivities, and said something to the older one, who pointed toward Diana and me.

I sat up straight and my gut clenched as I squinted to bring them into better focus. Something about the older one's face bothered me—his demeanor, his pointing, his smirk.

Come on, Tony, jealousy is not your most attractive quality. Relax. No sense worrying about some harmless ogling. Let him have his fun.

I didn't want to spoil the day over nothing.

Tom wobbled in my direction with two more beers in hand, and a look on his face as if to say,
I'm gonna get you drunk, Tony-Boy.
I laughed and glanced one last time at the two voyeurs.

Screw 'em!
They weren't hurting anyone. No harm, no foul.

"A covetous man does nothing well 'til he dies." – Thomas Wilson

~~~~~

Tommy and I often went to Flora Park to toss around a football or, as we did now, a Frisbee. He was surprisingly good at it. I was decent enough too, when not constantly distracted. A girl wearing cut-off jean shorts and a yellow shirt tied up in the midsection, exposing her belly button and much of her shapely stomach, broke my concentration. Talk about built!

Why must girls expose themselves so...
provocatively
? Don't they know how that drives men out of their—

"What are you looking at, Mitchell?"

Tommy, the intruder, broke into hysterical laughter over my exaggerated leap in the air.

"I scared you, huh, Mitchell? I scared you good!"

He made a spectacle of himself, jumping up and down, laughing and clapping his hands. I attempted to calm him by assuring him that he was the "Champion Scarer of All Time." He stopped his antics to consider this new title, which he accepted with pride. Good old Tommy.

I returned my attention to the girl, who tackled her apparent boyfriend on the blanket where he sat. She kissed him, and he traced his hand down her back and grabbed her ass! I grinded my teeth and my head hammered me again.

Fuck it! I got better things to think about.
"She is one seriously hot babe, Tommy."

He looked around the park like he'd just landed here from Neptune. "Who is?"

I pointed to her. "The girl over there on the left, wearing the yellow shirt."

He located her, barely smiled and shrugged—hardly a ringing endorsement. Despite his physical age, he didn't understand or appreciate the splendors of the opposite sex. Even I had limited experience in that realm, a circumstance I hoped to remedy.

Soon. Real soon.

"Tommy-boy, I'd sure like to spend some quality time with a girlfriend like that."

"You could do it. You could have any pretty girlfriend you want."

"You think so?"

"Sure. Hey, you're the MAN!"

Good old Tommy—had to love him. I'd been with only two girls, both prostitutes, but I expected that would change soon. Why shouldn't it? Everything else was changing.

The girl in yellow played around while visions flashed through my mind—visions of power and pain, of possibilities.

"Maybe you're right, Tommy-boy. We'll have to see."

***

I'd taken Tommy home and treated myself to a nap, but rather than waking up fresh and renewed, I awoke feeling like someone had bulldozed my ass while I slept.

I massaged my head in the hopes of easing another of my fast-becoming-famous headaches, and when I rubbed the zit, my head damn near exploded. I should have popped that disgusting thing before it turned into Mount Everest behind my ear. I also awoke with memories of demon-laden dreams, my other common occurrence these days.

At least I enjoyed one good thought: an image of me with my newfound angel. I left Tommy with Mom and returned to the park.

I couldn't get the girl I yellow outta my head. She played with her friends like she didn't have a care in the world. I sat in my lawn chair, placed strategically between and behind the front seats of my van, and relaxed. No one would see me here.

She filled the lenses of my binoculars, like I could reach out and touch her.

I wonder what you would say, sweet thing, if you knew of my... violation.

The sun dipped below the trees on the west end of the park, and I struggled to keep the binoculars focused on my spectacular subject. She stopped goofing around and rejoined her boyfriend, and they kissed. He grabbed her ass again, and they practically mauled each other.

I lowered the binoculars and stared at the floor between my feet. I didn't know that other man—that kid—but I sure wanted to rip the fucker's heart out and feed it to the crows. Then I could take a shot at the girl and make her mine.

I grinded my teeth and intensified my headache—again. "Shit! Just what I fuckin' needed."

Another girl yelled from three cars over. "Diana, stop fooling around with Tony and get your butt over here!"

Several girls gathered around that car and giggled, no doubt sharing the latest gossip. My prize in yellow stood, laughed, and jogged over to join them.

Well then, your boyfriend's name is Tony, and your name is Diana—a good name for a heavenly babe.

I slid farther back in the van to ensure the girls wouldn't see me, rested my head on the back of the lawn chair, and closed my eyes. I needed to beat this fuckin' headache. Thoughts of my angel substituted for my usual three aspirin and a shot of bourbon.

Yeah, that's good.

My mind wandered again—foggy, drifting.

***

She smiles and holds my hand in a vast field of fragrant flowers. We lie against one another, naked and warm, and kiss. I trace her every contour and soft curve with my gentle fingers, until I touch her at last where I've rarely touched a woman. Her radiant moisture pushes me to the edge of frenzy. She accepts me and I plunge deeper into bliss with every quiver of her body, every gentle rhythm of her movement, every pleasurable moan. Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to heaven without time. She calls my name and screams, and suddenly a tidal wave washes over us as—

***

"What the fuck!"

I jerked my head forward and opened my eyes. I'd thought I held Diana, but that weren't
her
in my right hand. I had no idea how long I'd been at it; hadn't been aware that I
was
at it. I couldn't even remember dropping my pants.

I peered through the windshield and breathed a sigh of relief; I didn't think anyone could have seen me. A crumpled rag from the floor of the van sufficed to clean away the results of my activity, but I needed a shower.

"I'll need some fresh clothes, damn it! I can't believe I was jerking—"

I glanced around the park again.

"I wonder if the van was rocking."

This was not what I'd had in mind when I put that bumper sticker on the back door:
If the van's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'.
The embarrassment faded and I hopped back into the driver's seat to—

Shit!
I strained through the advancing darkness to find the special angel in yellow who had so fired my imagination. The crowd had thinned out to a few stragglers.

"She's gone! How will I follow her and discover where she lives? I couldn't have been distracted for
that
long. Do I have the worst fuckin' luck, or what?"

My gut rolled over and shook.

"Mitchell, if you didn't have shit for brains, you'd have no fuckin' brains at all!"

I vice-gripped the steering wheel with both hands and plunked my head down on top of them. I closed my eyes and strained to concentrate through the marching band blasting inside my skull.

"Fuck a rubber duck! What am I gonna do now?"

I had considerable experience with this kind of shit—insecurity, inferiority—but that hardly comforted.

I remembered my first glimpse of Diana, arriving in that big, slightly dinged old car. I didn't know the make, but I might have recognized it if....

I scanned the parking lot.

"Shit."

My queasy jitters returned, and my renewed sense of hope went up in fuckin' smoke. The car had vanished, and with it my latest, greatest dream.

"What now?" My pathetic whine served as an unpleasant reminder of my former, dumbass self.

A deep, familiar voice boomed deep inside my head.
The car, Mitchell, find it, no matter how far you must go, no matter how long it takes, for it will surely lead you to the angel and your own slice of paradise.

"Yeah! How hard can it be to find a car in this fuckin' hick town?"

You can do it, Mitchell.

"You think so?"

Hey, you're the MAN!