Memorizing You (11 page)

My eyes returned to his. They looked kind and caring. “No.”

He pushed my arms to my sides. His eyes then traveled the course of my own body. It was like being X-rayed.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it? We’ve seen everything there is to see of each other. There’s no mystery. Nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to hide. What do you think?”

He stepped out of the shower and buried his face in a towel.

“I think you’re beautiful,” I replied in a fading voice. I hadn’t planned on saying that. It simply came out.

The towel moved to his chest. His eyes locked my own. He handed my

towel to me. I turned off the shower, stepped out. My long hair stuck to my cheeks.

He moved forward, took the strands in a finger, and tucked them behind my ear. His face was mere inches from mine. The nearness of his body electrified the small distance between us.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he strode toward the washer and dryer, then turned back to me. The air filled with a magnetic force I’d never experienced. His gaze took all of me in at once.

“And you devastate me, David.” It was a low and tender tone. “You always have.”

When I returned home, my dad had fallen asleep on the sofa watching Johnny Carson. Mom was reading her Harlequin at the kitchen table. She looked up as I entered and sat at the table. My mind was far away. It traveled a thousand threads of thought at once.

“You hungry?” she asked. “I made a roast beef sandwich.”

My head bobbed. I heard the refrigerator door open and a plate slide in front of me. A moment later, a glass of milk was its partner. Instinctively, the food made its way to my mouth and I chewed. She sat back in her chair and opened the book at its mark. The refrigerator hummed. The clock ticked. I could hear distant, tinny laughter from the television in the living room.

I raised the glass of milk to drink, discovered her eyes on me.

A hand cupped her mouth. An inaudible sigh. “I remember having that look you have now. So well.” There were glistening wells in the bottoms of her lids.

I lowered my glass. Her book closed.

“He rode up on his motorbike the first time I saw him. And I knew. I knew it right then and there.” Her palms laid on the table and fanned out. “Don’t ask me how, or why. I knew. It was magical. I’d dated a lot of guys. I was nineteen. But…” Her arms crossed over her heart. “But it was him. And there was nothing I could do about it.”

She picked up the book from the table, tucked it in her apron pocket, and looked toward the sound of the television in the other room. “My mom didn’t like him. She thought he looked dangerous dressed in a leather jacket, riding his bike. She didn’t want me to see him. But she couldn’t know, there was nothing…absolutely nothing I could do about it. She was angry when I married him. Didn’t come to the wedding. Wouldn’t talk to me for five years. It hurt me deeply. She finally came around and saw how wonderful he was. Five years later.” There was a tremor in her voice. “I can see it all as easily as if it was a walk back there through that door. As if I could stand right back in that moment.”

The room fell back to the sound of a humming refrigerator and ticking clock. I hadn’t realized my hand still clutched the milk glass the entire time.

She rose and embraced me by the neck, kissed my head. “You smell like Ivory soap. Reminds me of when you were a baby.”

I heard the floorboards in the hallway creak, the sound of the television die away. Footfalls padded up the stairs and then the bedroom door closed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Standing in the darkness of my bedroom, I stared out my window. I would later think of this moment like that of feeling drunk. Head spinning. Thoughts disconnected.

I reached for the shirt and shorts I wore for bed. My hand wavered as I Ltd.

Devastate
. He said devastate.

I traced my fingers over the planes of my face. Over my lips. Down to my neck. It was as if I’d never really looked at myself.

I pulled my shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Studied my shoulders, chest, and arms. Ran my fingers over my nipples. The points. Imagined the fingers were his. My stomach trembled. An involuntary shudder ran through my flesh.

I thought of him standing in the shower spray. The lithe legs, shiny wet. Staring down at his large manly feet in the swirl of water. The scent of soap was still in my hair. It restored the vision vividly in my mind as he stood in front of me. Naked and unashamed.

I undid my shorts and let them drop. I stepped out of them, kicked them away. In the mirror I could see I’d reshaped the contour of my underwear with these thoughts. My body knew what I wanted. I thought of him lying in his bed. He would be naked. Maybe he’d be thinking of me in my bed.

I pulled off my underwear and slid into the bed. The pillow curled into me. My arms caressed it as I thrust slowly into it. I caught its tip with my lips, then tongue and teeth. I closed my eyes to stare into his. The warmth grew in my stomach; between my legs. I pictured my arms enfolding his large, solid back. The pillow came in tighter as my mind spun and I lost myself instantly.

Moments later, I realized what I’d done. I could smell my sex. See it shimmer in a pool on the pillow case. Some strange humor found itself in my throat. I’d have to do laundry in the morning after mom left for work. My sleep that night was profound.

Ryan had been right. I was sore the next morning. Beyond the scope of the word pain. I couldn’t move without yelling. My upper torso was a rubber band wound too tightly. Dad decided to take the four jobs we had that day after hearing me yell as I did laundry. Pillow case and all. I had the day off, and the house to myself. I ran a bath and laid in it for an hour, thinking. Made a peanut butter sandwich; ate it. Sat on the porch and watched the bees buzzing in the wild clover. I tried to turn my mind off. Shut down the thoughts that were with me every second. Everything in me ached to be with him. It was worse than and in greeting.

I’d lifted the handset to dial the phone more than half a dozen times, and then didn’t. My hand floated above it, debating the notion to do it again when it rang and startled me. I answered on the second ring.

“Yeah, I thought you’d take a day off.” It was Ryan. “Pretty sore, huh?”

I loved hearing his voice. “You have no idea.”

“How ‘bout a bike ride?”

The bike ride turned out to be a twelve mile ride to the outskirts of the suburb. An old farm that his dad owned and only used occasionally to go duck hunting with his buddies because of the natural lake on the property. We’d brought towels and trunks to go swimming. We packed lunches and a thermos of Kool-Aid.

The property was overgrown with weeds and tall burnt grass. The wooden gate was broken, and its road strewn with rocks too large to ride our bikes over. We walked them. Halfway in was a ramshackle farmhouse falling in on itself. Not far behind that was a grove of shade trees. He pointed to that as our destination.

It was a beautiful spot. Elm trees encompassed the clear lake on all sides. Wildflowers sprung up everywhere light came through. The banks were small rocks that weren’t too painful on the bare foot. The day was cranking at over one hundred degrees, and the long ride had parched us. We changed into our trunks. He dived into the cool water.

“This is heaven!” he shouted as he splashed his way deeper into the lake.

I sat in the shallows. I didn’t want to tell him that I couldn’t swim. At least, not yet.

He romped in the water, hooting and hollering like a wild man. It was funny to watch. When he wore himself out, and his voice was hoarse, he splashed his way back to me and sat.

“Isn’t this great?” he asked, tugging his trunks back up on his waist">“I knowImy. “Don’t you love it?”

“I think it’s really great,” I answered, wiggling my toes where I saw minnows swimming.

We sat listening to the countryside noises for a few moments. Then he asked, “You don’t know how to swim, do you?”

I was surprised. “How did you know?”

He opened his arms wide, taking in the vista of the lake. “Lake,” he said, and then he pointed at me. “David.”

“Okay, Sherlock. I can’t swim,” I admitted.

“Would you like me to teach you?” He stood up, waded into the water, turned and extended his hand toward me.

“I’m actually pretty afraid of water,” I told him. I had to be honest. The idea of deep water sent me into a panic. “I’d rather not.”

He stood his ground with hand outstretched, smiling. “C’mon. Time to be a big boy.”

Reluctantly, I stood and took his hand. He waded me in deeper. To my shins. To my knees. To my waist. I didn’t like the feeling at all.

“Good,” he said, encouraging me. “We’re gonna teach you how to dog-paddle first. It’s the easiest.”

I was nervous. “Dog-paddling?”

“Yeah. Just watch me. You’ll see. It’s totally easy. You see mom’s doing this with their baby’s at the pool.”

“Great. Baby swimming. I feel better already.”

He stepped a few more feet out, and down. The water was at his shoulders. “Watch me. It’s just all about moving your arms and legs at the same time. Keeping your head above the water and just breathing regular-like.” He did the demonstration for me. It looked easy.

“Okay. Come here,” he said, his chin barely above the water.

I felt the slippery rocks under my feet. The water darkened where he stood. I hesitated.

He waded back to me. “If you’re going to learn to swim, you have to get in the water. You gotta trust me. I’ll take care of ya.”

Taking my hand, he slowly tugged me forward. When it reached chest level, I began to pant. He stopped, looked at me, and squeezed my hand. “We can do it here, I think.” He held his arms out just under the surface of the water. “I want you to lay chest down on my hands. I’m gonna hold you to get you started.”

His hands felt strong and reassuring as they pulled me in. I leaned forward onto his arms, keeping my head arched high above the water.

“Okay. Now slowly begin to stroke with your arms. Keep your hands cupped. And kick with your legs.”

He held me firmly in place as I did what he said. It felt like I was trying to move away from him in the water, but he kept me in place with his fingertips on my ribcage.

“Okay, a little faster now. Both arms and legs.”

I stroked and peddled faster. I felt it lift my body up in the water and off his arms.

“Watch your breathing. Keep it nice and normal. Relaxed.” His voice was soothing. “You’re doing great.”

I could feel that my muscles were still sore and strained, but the movement in the buoyant water made them feel better.d in greeting.

“Okay. I’m gonna letcha go in a minute, but I’m right here. So, there’s nothing to worry about. All right?”

I didn’t like the sound of that but I said, “Okay.”

“Just keep it going,” he instructed. He pulled his arms away from under me. I moved into the water.

“Shit!” I barked, feeling uncertain.

“Calm! Nice and steady. You look great,” he called after me.

“Shit.” I could see that I was moving into deeper, darker water. I really didn’t care for that at all. I turned my head to look back toward the shore and aim in that direction. It looked very far away to me now.

“I’m right with you.” I heard him swimming close to my side. “You’re doing great. You’re swimming, pal!”

My movements became more frantic, wanting to bring the shore to me closer and faster. Soon my toes were touching the bottom again. The slick rocks. I planted my feet and began walking to shallower water. I could hear Ryan behind me.

“You did it!” he yelled. “You swam. You swam the very first time!” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and patted my stomach like I’d just won a race. “First time, a winner!”

I laughed with my panicked breath, and sat down on the bank. He was next to me.

“Not that bad, was it?” his toothy grin was alive with enthusiasm.

“No,” I lied, water streaming down from my wet hair into my eyes. It was much worse, I thought to myself.

We had our sandwiches and Kool-Aid, spread ">“I knowImyour towels, and lay in the sun. There was no sound of the outside world, save the occasional plane that flew overhead. It was like our own private Eden. It wasn’t long after we lay down that I heard his light snoring. It was like a lullaby that called to me as well. I drifted away in the warm cocoon of our secret paradise.

When I opened my eyes, I could tell the sun had shifted. Late afternoon. We were in the shade of the elms. I was facing the lake. Ryan was behind me. I turned my head over to face him. He lay there staring at me. “Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” he said back.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “Whatcha doing?”

He smiled and blinked. “Memorizing you,” his voice said, dreamily.

I was silent a moment. I wasn’t certain of what he said. I saw a butterfly flit past him. “What?”

“The real color of your eyes. They’re not just blue. There’s some green. Brown. Black.” He pushed my hair behind my ear. “How your ear is shaped like a perfect tulip petal.”

A fingertip outlined the dip beneath my nose and lip. It tickled. It made me scratch my nose.

“The way you sit close to the table when you eat. How you hold your fork upside down to pick up your food…”

He was telling me things I didn’t even know about myself. I’d never even been aware of him watching me that closely. His hand trailed down from my shoulders to the small of my back. “The hair that grows like golden feathers right in the bend of your back.” He rubbed the hair back and forth with the tips of two fingers. I felt it. I’d never known it was there.

“Why?” I asked. I didn’t understand the curiosity.

“Because it’sand covered her mouth aup important.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was amazed. Flattered. No one had ever paid much attention to me before. His eyes remained fixed on me. “When did you first know?”

“First know?”

“Yeah.”

Then I understood. He’d never asked me the question before. I told him the story. The one that would be with me every day of my life. The beautiful hand. The Coke bottle kiss. The bike ride. The sunburn and Noxema. I described each scene as if I were laying out pictures from a family album.