Now, at Least
I won’t have to lie about where
I’m going tonight. I can omit
confessing the fun stuff, should
any of it actually happen. Finally
I get to clock out. Need to shower
off the customers’ germs, put on
clean clothes. Girls love clean.
I’m good with giving it to them.
It’s warm for late March, but then
it never gets really cool in Vegas.
The dry desert air is peppered
with exhaust and city noise.
It’s a short ride home, radio
screaming, and I’m singing
to myself as I park, head up
the walk to the front door. Life
is good, and I can’t help but smile
as I go inside. Mom and Jack
are in the kitchen. Even from
here, the tone of Mom’s voice
makes me know something’s
up. I close the distance quietly.
Wait and see what the doctor says.
Could be lots of things besides …
Doctor?
Is someone hurt? Sick? What?
I push through the door. “Lots
of things besides what?” My eyes
whip back and forth between them.
Both their faces are the color of old
paper. Almost, but not quite, white.
Jack recovers first. Not important,
son. I’ve just been having some
problems with indigestion. Went
in for tests. Could be an ulcer.
Or maybe just your mother’s
cookin’. Nothing to worry about.
Then why is Mom wearing
worry in two long horizontal
lines across her forehead and
two short vertical creases just
above her nose? She’s easier
to read than a comic book.
Right Now
I don’t really want to read her,
at least not all the way to the last
page. So I’m relieved when she
reaches deep down for some humor.
You want to blame my cooking?
Then take me out to dinner.
The garage door slams and in
marches Cory. He’s thirteen,
a skater, and thinks he’s tough.
I let him maintain the fantasy.
Cory may be pushing six feet
tall, but he’s a little kid inside.
We all clam up immediately,
something Cory totally misses
as he launches a verbal upchuck.
I can’t believe it! They outlawed
boards at the park. Something
about liability. Damn it to hell!
Mom sucks in her breath, and Jack
jumps up from his chair. What
did you say, young man? You
apologize to your mother right
this minute! His face is bright
red. But he doesn’t look sick.
Cory does not apologize. He stomps
into the living room, muttering
a long string of very bad curse
words. Hmph … mother … sucker …
hmph … have to if … Hey, did he
say something about me?
Jack trails him, and Mom and
I follow. We are just in time to
see Jack grab Cory by the collar.
He spins him around until they’re
face-to-face. This is still my house,
young man. Now you apologize.
There is something mean in
Cory’s eyes, something I don’t
remember seeing before. But Jack
is in charge. Cory lowers his glare
to the floor. Sorry. Now let me go.
He tempers his tone. Please.
It’s Almost Seven
By the time I pick up Ronnie,
who claims the front seat like
she owns “shotgun.” Damn,
the girl is fine, in a short denim
skirt and skimpy lavender tank
top. Oh, Ronnie and her tanks.
Wave nice to my mommy, she
says, turning to do the same.
Then she yells out the window,
stay out too late. Cross my heart.
Now, a mean whisper. Let’s go!
She doesn’t have to ask twice.
Last thing I need is her mom
smelling the bud in my pocket.
I aim for the freeway. “You look
great.” Compliments are good ice-
breakers. Ronnie is the ice queen.
But tonight she seems almost
thawed. Not quite warm, but
not completely bitchy. She sniffs
the air. Smells like you brought
the party. We’ve never gotten high
together. First time for everything.
By the Time
We reach Frozen75, we’ve def
gotten high together. This guy
I work with scores really good
bud, and he’s not above dealing
a little to me. “So what do you
think about the smoke?”
The ice queen has defrosted all
the way to room temp. She laughs.
It’s awesome. Then she reaches
over, touches my leg. Tonight
will be fun. Thanks for taking me.
Her hand strokes my thigh gently.
Which raises my heart rate,
which raises several questions.
Why me? Why now? Why go out
of her way for tonight? But one
of those questions will do for now.
“I … I have to ask. Why me?”
Out of the corner of my eye
(I don’t dare look away from
the road), I can see her shake
her head. You really don’t know,
do you? Cody, I’ve been in love
with you for a very long time.
A Poem by Eden Streit
Being in Love
Means hard questions.
Will I? Won’t I? Should
I? Could I? Yes? No?
You?
Me? There is no me
without you. Is there
a you without
me?
And if we’re truly one,
how will I breathe when
circumstance pries us
apart?
You are my oxygen, my
sustenance, the blood
inside my veins. When
we
touch, you are my skin,
hold all my joy inside
of you. When you go, I
wither.
Eden
Saturday Evening
Papa is officiating a wedding. Mama,
of course, went along. Few enough
excuses to get all dressed up around here.
Eve put on her Sunday best and went too.
The bride has a really cute little brother,
just about a year older than Eve.
The groom has a nice-looking brother
too, but I’m not the least bit interested.
I’ve got someone I’d much rather see,
so I begged off. Told them I didn’t
feel very well. God is going to strike me
down for sure if I keep lying this way.
But I’ve got at least three hours
to spend with Andrew. There’s a park
right down the street from our house.
It’s a short walk on a cool night,
but by the time I reach Andrew’s truck,
I’m hot all over. From the inside out.
No One Around
I slip into the Tundra unobserved.
As the interior light goes dark
,
I move into Andrew’s arms, accept
his gentle kiss. But we don’t dare
stay here. “Let’s go for a drive. Can’t
believe how much I’ve missed you.”
He grins and puts the truck in gear.
It’s only been four days, you know.
I slide my hand into the warmth of his.
“And all I could think about was you.”
True. Too true. In class. PE. The library.
At home. Bible study. The dinner table.
Faces. Whiteboards. Gym mats. Smudged
together. Bells. Laughter. Curses. Blurred
into white noise. Locker room armpits. Floor wax.
Gourmet cafeteria. Marker ink. All smeared
into senseless potpourri. Four days, the only
clear picture, Andrew’s face. The only sound
I wanted to hear, his soft hello. The only scent
my nose kept sniffing for, alfalfa green.
We Drive into the Foothills
Andrew knows this area well. He turns
up a dirt road, slick with spring melt ice.
Unlikely we’ll run into anyone back here.
Certainly not any old spy from Papa’s church.
Andrew parks. Pretty tonight. Looks
like you could reach out and touch
the stars. Come on. He tugs me into
the chill March air, lifts me into the bed
of his truck. There’s a double sleeping bag
there. We climb inside, and he slides his arm
around my shoulder, pulls my head against
his chest. Nice. He sighs. Very, very nice.
Suddenly we’re kissing, beneath an ocean
of distant suns. Can’t believe it’s me here,
in this amazing place, with this amazing guy.
I want him to hold me forever, never let go.
I feel like I’m in a movie. Unrehearsed words
tumble out of my mouth. “I love you.”
There
Said it. Didn’t really mean to, but now
I’ve gone and done it. I tense, waiting
for his response. It’s swift. Oh God,
Eden, I love you, too. How did I ever
live without you? It’s like I was missing
a huge part of me. The best part of me.
Until I found you. I want … I want …
He loses his words. He never does that.
I kiss his temples. Close his eyes with
kisses. “What? What do you want?”
His eyes stay closed. I stare up into the night
as he says, I want to be with you always,
to share forever with you. I want to give
you more than I have to give now—security,
a comfortable life. He pauses. Considers.
Decides to finish. I want to take from you
what I’ve no right to take. Not now. Not yet.
But that doesn’t make me want it less….
I Get What He Means
And as much as I would like to chalk
it up to him being a guy, truth is I want
it too. At least I think I do, and only when
I’m this close to Andrew. When I am, God
forgive me, I want to know what it means
to give myself to him so completely. Want
to feel what it’s like when it’s absolutely
right. Not that I’ve felt it when it’s wrong,
or felt “it” at all. But I don’t want my heart
to feel wrong about my body feeling good.
I have no doubt it will feel incredible with Andrew.
“I want to too. But I’m scared. I’ve never …”
I know. I know you haven’t, and I know
you’re scared. I’m scared too. You might
not believe this, but I’ve never either. He
stops. Smiles. Don’t tell anyone, okay?
When you’re ready, when you trust me
enough, I want you to be my first. My only.
I So Want to Be
His first. His only. I so want him to be
mine. “I promise to be your first.
“Your only. If we just had a little more
time, I would be those things tonight… .”
No. Not tonight. Not in the cold, hard bed
of a pickup truck. When we do it, it will
be in a warm feather bed, with soft quilts
and pillows you fall into. I want it
to be perfect. And if we don’t get it right
the first time … He lets me finish.
“Practice makes perfect?” We laugh
together. Easy. Meant to be. And I know
the first time someone makes love to me,
it will be perfect. Because it will be Andrew.
We Should Head Back
But I can’t. Not quite yet. I need some
answers that will prove he means what
he says. “So why did you wait? And how
did you know the right person was me?”
I know all guys are supposed to be sluts
or something. But sex with just anyone
never did seem exactly right to me.
Maybe it’s my Catholic upbringing,
or hell, who knows? Maybe I need Viagra
already. He laughs. Nah, that can’t be
the problem. When I’m with you, I don’t
need a pill to want to make love to you.
He always says the right things.
Maybe he should be a politician.
As for you, I suspected you might be
the right person the first night we met.
You were so sure of yourself, your beliefs,
and you didn’t let me sway you. I loved
your self-confidence, your obvious loyalty.
Your solid sense of right and wrong.
Okay, so maybe he’s not exactly politician
material. “When did you know for sure?”
The first time I kissed you. One kiss,
I was totally hooked. Addicted to you.
I could never love anyone the way I love
you. I’d follow you across the universe.
I look up at the sky, brimming stars
and the rise of a waning moon.
“The universe is a big place. If I was lost
up there, how would you ever find me?”
He gathers me in, kisses me gently.
Don’t you know? We’re connected
by an invisible chain. It’s very long, very
light. But also very strong. It can’t rust.
Can’t break. And the only thing that can
sever it is if you ever stop loving me.
We Drive Back into Town
Back to the park, which is deserted.
Dark, but for a single streetlight
at the far end. Andrew parks away
from it and I slide across the seat, into
his arms. One last kiss. Or two. I don’t
want to stop. Don’t want to go home.
“I’ll never stop loving you,” I whisper.
“And I want to make love with you soon.”
My body aches with wanting that very
thing. “Maybe we should run away.”
If I thought that was the right thing
to do, I wouldn’t hesitate one minute.
But it’s not. You’d never forgive yourself,
and that would mean never forgiving me.
Once you turn eighteen, once I graduate,
we can go anywhere. I’ll get a job. You can
go to school. Or stay home and let me take
care of you. Whatever makes you happy.
He kisses me one last time. As long as
we’re together, everything will be all right.
I Walk Home Slowly
Trying to soak up the things Andrew
said tonigh
t. Sponge them up, absorb
them through my skin, into my flesh, so
they’ll always live inside of me. I know
Andrew and I were meant to be together.
How can I prove it to my parents? How
can I make them understand that love
this real, this deep, must come from God?
I look up again at the night sky, but here,
city lights take center stage, mute
the celestial backdrop. I don’t belong
here, in the city. Don’t belong in my
parents’ cold house. I’m a stray, called
to another place. A wild place, where
rules and expectations don’t dare intrude.
A warm place, safe in Andrew’s arms.
The House Is Quiet
They’re still not home, and that’s great
by me. I don’t need questions. Don’t want
to make up excuses. Have no patience
for a sister-to-sister chat session.
The clock says nine thirty, but it seems
much later. I go into my room, trade
jeans for a soft flannel nightgown,
lie on my bed in the dark, listening
to silence. Something happened tonight.
Something wonderful. Terrifying.
An awakening. This must be how Eve
(the original) felt after taking a bite
of forbidden fruit. Every nerve on fire,
every fiber of flesh alive with desire.
If Andrew was here, beside me on my
not-exactly-a-feather bed, I would give
him my virginity, give it gladly, without
a second thought. It belongs to him.
I close my eyes, return to the foothills,
to the back of the Tundra, to a double
sleeping bag. I slip inside, into the warm
envelope of goose down. And Andrew.
His voice fills my head. I want to
take from you what I’ve no right to.…
Oh, Andrew. I want that too. Tonight.
Right now. My body is begging to learn
what your body wants to teach it. Need
blisters up, and with it, a way to teach
myself some of what I’m dying to know.
Abstinence programs encourage it.
Mama not only discourages it, but swears
it put Mary Magdalene on the highway
to degradation. What Mama forgets is that Mary
Magdalene was the forgiveness poster child.
My Hand, Disguised
As Andrew’s hand, moves lightly
down my neck, over collarbone,