Don't You Remember (2 page)

Unsure of what to do, I decided to stay inside the shop and watch them from the window. The girl is laughing, as she puts her arms around the middle of his body and they walked down Russell Street as if they were King and Queen at the prom – they were both attractive enough. The girl wore her long blonde hair loose, with a perfect carefree wave and a big Farrah Fawcett smile. How could he not like her? More importantly, how could he not have mentioned her to me? I spent at least two hours talking to him last night, and also the night before, plus I saw him almost every day last week. He never once mentioned his girlfriend.

I thought more of Johnny’s future while absentmindedly carrying on with my work. Only eight more months and he would be finished with school and on the road, trying his luck as a musician rocking the bars in larger towns and cities. He had no set plan but recently got a decent injection of cash from a car sale, a car he bought at auction and never drove; just bought at an unbelievable bargain price and then sold it for double the amount. One thing is for sure, if anyone can make it out of this town, it would be resourceful Johnny.

I glanced again at his girlfriend, being as discrete as possible by hiding behind a music stand. I felt a little silly, a bit like a stalker, but I was just being nosey. As I do this, I noted the differences between us: her ample bust, big smile, big blonde, perfect hair, how much luckier could she be? And now, she’s got my Johnny.

When I finished my evaluation I walked back to the counter and calculated the afternoon and evening takings and ring up $70. I’m due half of that for my hours worked today, but will also pay back $10 for my singing lesson which is kind of important to me, in case I decide I want to be a singer. Mr Branner is such a great teacher; he once worked as an opera singing coach in Chicago. He had to leave, but he left that job when his mother became ill, forcing him to return to Rushton where she lived. Just before his mum passed away, he met a lovely lady with two children, whose ex-husband had her and their two children by a thread, threatening to take her to court if she tried to leave Rushton town with the kids. It was agreed that as soon as her youngest child turned eighteen she would leave Rushton with Branner. It was the best they could make of a bad situation. Like me, forced to stay in Rushton until I’m eighteen in order to finish my secondary education.

After my singing lesson I walked to the Boxer, where Johnny worked. Opening the double doors I saw him boxing with some sweaty guy I didn’t know. He was wearing sports shorts and a white fitted cotton tank, which showed off his rounded shoulder and arm muscles. His muscles are bigger and his body more taut than I recalled. I looked him up and down appraisingly and, realizing what I had just done, turned red with embarrassment and hoped he hadn’t seen me.

“Johnny,” I called out with a raised voice given the noise level of the room. I waved at the same time to get his attention.

He looked over in my direction, smiled, then turned back to the guy he was boxing with. “Hang on, mate, I won’t be a minute,” he said and jogged over to me. ”What’s up Jen? Everything all right?”

“Yes, just wondered if you wanted to walk home with me? Or are you driving?”

“Nope, I walked today. If you can wait half an hour, I will walk home with you,” he said puffing from his exertions.

“I can wait,” I said and turned to sit on one of the two plastic chairs stationed next to the counter. I collected my book from my school bag and began to read.

The gym is situated in a large space similar to a modern warehouse but no money has been spent on the interior. It’s a functional gym, with a small customer service counter and a rack of shelves to sell amino acids, powders, tinned potions and pills that promise the physique of a body builder.

From the customer services area I could see the gym and the equipment easily, there are two standard size boxing rings and lots of different size boxing bags randomly dotted around the joint, plus some skipping ropes, free weights and bench presses. It was full of sweaty men working out.

I’ve never given Johnny the slightest notion that I’m attracted to him; I wouldn’t know how to do that. My parents never taught me to open up with my feelings; they haven’t shown me any affection for years. It’s like I’m not even there, as if they never had me. Days go by where we don’t even see or speak to each other.

Still sitting in the chair waiting for Johnny I began to twirl my long brown hair for no reason. I’m wearing blue fitted jeans with a navy blue camisole tank top and an opened flannelette shirt with a pair of tatty converse trainers, but they look acceptable, worn to death, loved much and very lived in. I should think about saving up for a new pair.

I have the greatest desire to run sometimes, run somewhere, anywhere. I tell Johnny how much I want to run because he knows the feeling too. We’ve talked about what will happen when we leave here and whatever our plans are, they generally consist of never coming back. Johnny will make it as a big rock star and perhaps I’ll be a singer. If not a singer, then I’ll go to college and get a degree and really be something, maybe a lawyer or journalist.

“You all right, kiddo?” Johnny asked as he walked over to me. He had changed into his jeans and t-shirt and was ready to leave.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I say unconvincingly.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” I usually tell him everything, but how can I tell him I saw him with a girl today and had discovered I might have feelings for him? Best to keep those feelings to myself in case he doesn’t feel the same way. But what if he does? I look down at my thin self and think there is no way he would find me attractive, especially compared to the blonde he was with today.

“Come on, kiddo, let’s go,” he said putting his arm around my shoulders loosely as he casually waved bye to his boxer friends.

We walked down Russell Street with Johnny’s arm sitting comfortably around my shoulders. I liked the way it made me feel, and wanted to return the gesture by putting my arm around his waist but wasn’t sure how he’d react.

“Johnny. When I was working at Branner’s today I saw you walking down Russell Street.”

“Oh yeah, why didn’t you come and say hello?” he asked, squeezing one of my shoulders playfully.

“I don’t know, I thought about it but then you seemed to be preoccupied with some blonde girl,” I confided, fishing for further information.

“Samantha Bison,” he said, giving her a name.

“You looked really happy together.”

“She’s a fun girl, I like her.”

“Are you going out?”

“You mean officially?”

“Yes.”

“If you mean did I ask her to go out with me, then no, I didn’t ask her officially.”

“But do you want to?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?” he said casually as if he hadn’t given it a lot of thought. “What do you want to do tonight?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Hang out, I guess. You? Are you thinking lake?”

“That’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“What about Samantha, will she want to come?”

“I don’t know, I can call her when I get home.”

“OK. Whatever,” I shrugged, not wanting Johnny to know I was jealous. How could I continue to be friends with him without telling him how I really felt?

“I don’t have to ask her, kiddo,” he said looking down at my face and wondering what the matter was.

“It’s up to you,” I said dismissively. “Whatever you think is best.”

CHAPTER THREE

Johnny and I parted ways when we reached home. Johnny lives in a state owned house directly next door to mine. Our houses are almost identical, except that they are mirror images of each other, meaning my bedroom window faced Johnny’s. We’ve been known to have the odd conversation perched by our windows or even sitting on the window frames.

I opened the front door with my house key and walked into my dark home, straight into the horseshoe shaped kitchen, with cheap wooden panelled cupboards, a white cooker with oven and white refrigerator, often half empty. The kitchen window is embellished with doily-looking net curtains for privacy, but we don’t get very many visitors here, only neighbors or some church people trying to sell you the promise of salvation by joining their congregation. I noticed the sink full of glasses and plates that need washing. I ran some soapy water and washed the dishes and kitchen worktop.

I could see my parents sitting outside on the back porch drinking and smoking as usual. They were playing cards with Johnny’s mum and her boyfriend and haven’t even noticed I’m home. I walked to the slide door between the living room and the porch and opened it.

“Hi, everyone,” I said being polite and trying not to judge what I knew would be another big drinking debacle.

“Hello, Jen, how are you, love?”  Johnny’s mum, Pam asked.

“Good thanks, Pam.”

“Sweetheart, can you bring us another ashtray?” my mother asked.

I walked back to the kitchen and returned with a clean ashtray. “Do you want anything else?” I asked.

“No, thanks,” my father said smiling at me then patting my arm.

No one bothered to ask how my day was, what I did at school, had I gone to work, had I eaten dinner? As usual I am left to fend for myself. I walked back to the kitchen and looked in the food cupboard and noticed a loaf of bread, a few cans of tomatoes, bake beans and some tinned soup. I took two slices of bread and toasted them and warmed up some baked beans in a small pot and poured them over my toast. I took my dinner to my room.

My bedroom is small, with cheap synthetic cream colored carpet that needs updating. I have mismatched furniture, a wardrobe, desk, tallboy drawers, and a single bed. My bedding is plain blue with a croquet multi colored throw given to me by my grandmother when I was a baby. There is only one window in my bedroom, the one facing Johnny’s window. My curtains are cheap looking, made of thin blue fabric with a basic no frills net curtain underneath. My wooden panelled walls are filled with posters of Bon Jovi, U2 and Depeche Mode, and on my desk there is a cassette deck with lots of compilation tapes stacked one on top of the other. I made all of them sitting at my desk or on my bed for several hours listening to the Top 40 hits on the radio every Sunday afternoon, ready and waiting with my fingers placed on the play and record buttons at the same time. It is still one of my favorite things to do. Music takes me away from my world and into a completely different one; a world I hoped I could one day live in.

I sat at my desk and fiddled with my tape collection while I ate my dinner. What did I want to listen to? I ran my index finger down the pile of tapes trying to decide and eventually elect to switch the radio on. I finished my dinner and took my plate back to the kitchen, then returned to my room closing the door behind me and flopped onto my bed listening to my favorite tunes. I closed my eyes and let the music take me away.

After a couple of songs, I sat up on my bed so that I could take my shoes off and looked up, straight ahead facing my window right into Johnny’s room. I watched him as he took off his shirt, displaying every curve and contour on his back. My teeth bit down on my bottom lip in the way that I do when I like something I see; like an over flowing chocolate Sunday made with good quality ice cream, dripping with a large serving of melted chocolate, generously laced with tiny nuts. He turned back and sat on his bed, looking out of the window. I hid for a moment, bobbing down, worried that he would see me despite the net curtains. I came back to my seated position on the bed and watched him as he played his guitar. He looked directly over in my direction as if he could see me. I gasped but he wasn’t looking at me, he was in deep thought, picking up a pen and writing something on a piece of paper. Johnny was writing his music again. He fiddled with the cords on his guitar and strummed it a few times then put his guitar to one side. I could see every taut muscle on his moulded chest, shaped arms and shoulders. I took a deep breath as if I was in distress from wanting something so much I’m not sure I could have. I felt somewhat foolish trying to understand my feelings; realizing this must be what the analogy ‘heart rule’s the head’ means. I was in unknown territory. I needed to think about how long I could keep my feelings to myself. How long would it be before I told him the truth? Given the way I felt right now, I’m not sure I could hold out much longer. He made me feel alive, more alive than ever.