Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Boys boys boyz.

- I sit on the edge of the pool with a tee shirt over my babyish one-piece suit. My mom wouldn't let me buy a bikini. All the kids from my class are playing keep away in the pool and he's the tallest. He holds the ball high above his head as a girl jumps for it and fumbles, her hands sliding down his torso. He throws it and arcs over my head but I don't make a grab for it. The other girl chases after it, her newly blossomed body filling out her bikini like the swimsuit models over my dad's workbench. She holds onto it for longer than necessary. She's waiting until the boys notice she has it and make a move to get it from her before throwing it. Waiting to be tackled. As he lunges for her and they both go under the water I can feel my eyes well up with tears and I splash water on my face so that he doesn't see.

- After he moved he told me he loved me. He told me that when he was 400 miles away the distance made it real. I told him I'd wait for him, promised I'd go to college near him. A year later he visits all of his old friends, a group I was never really a part of, and we barely speak even though we've been e-mailing constantly because we're too shy. A year after that I return to the summer music school we attended before he left in the hope that he might go back too. While I'm in New Hampshire learning about arpeggios and the proper way to play a jazz chord I hear from a friend that he's in Rhode Island. I beg my mom to pick me up and bring me home for the weekend so I can see him but she doesn't come. Years later I find him on Facebook and feel myself blush. I wonder if he remembers what he said. I decide to never ask.

- We drive around for thirty minutes wondering what we should do and where we should go. He suggests the beach even though it's past 11pm. I am quivering, nervous that there will be a guard in the little house at the entrance. I don't break rules and the possibility of having to explain myself is terrifying. I worry and sweat the whole way there. As we pull up to the guard station I realize that there are two guards in there and they will probably want to know what two twenty one year olds are doing at the beach at 11pm. I open my mouth to tell him to turn the car around but they're already walking to us. He motions to the back of the Rav-4 where there are two fishing poles that I hadn't noticed until now. I look at the guards. They're waiting for more explanation "My brother and I," I start, my voice shaky, "go fishing late at night." I look at him and my voice becomes more confident. "The fish feed in the shallows then." He struggles not to grin and stares resolutely at the steering wheel as they wave us through the gate. We spend the night in the dunes, wrapped up in each other and the sand.

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