Shooting Stars 01 Cinnamon (9 page)

At eight o'clock, the doorbell rang and I hurried down the stairs to get there before Grandmother Beverly. Daddy, who had called earlier to tell her he was attending an important business meeting, was not home for dinner and wouldn't be until quite late.

"Hi," I said after I opened the door and found Clarence standing there, looking shy and afraid. Was I the first girl he had ever visited?

He turned to gaze down the driveway as if he thought he might have been followed and then nodded, smiled and stepped into the house. His eyes were like hungry little creatures gobbling up everything in sight.

"Those two bare areas were where my mother had her favorite paintings." I said nodding toward the wall where Mommy's New Orleans paintings once hung. "Grandmother Beverly is in the process of replacing them with something more cheerful," I said under my breath. 'When Mommy comes home, we'll put her pictures back."

He nodded and then stiffened and froze as Grandmother Beverly came out of the kitchen to see who had come to the door. The instant her gaze fell on him, her face expressed her disapproval: her lips stretching and flowing into the corners, her eyes flashing disgust. Clarence was wearing a ragged looking old bomber jacket and a tee- shirt with a picture of Bach and the words Fugue Me written beneath it.

"And who is this?"
"This is Clarence Baron, Grandmother, He and I are studying for a social studies test we're taking tomorrow. Is that all right with you?"
"Why didn't you ask before he arrived?" she countered.
"I couldn't imagine any reason why you wouldn't approve." I replied as sweetly as I could manage. "Maybe you've heard of Clarence's father. Michael Baron, one of the most prominent attorneys in the area."
She drew her head back as if she had flies in her nose and scrutinized Clarence as if she were considering him for a part in her play.
"Don't stay too late," she commanded. gave Clarence a threatening look of warning, and then returned to the kitchen.
I smiled at him.
"Now you see why she was the inspiration for the character of Freddy in A Nightmare on Elm Street," I said.
Clarence laughed and
I
hooked my arm into his and steered him toward the staircase.
"Quick, before she decides to take a sample of your blood." I said and hurriedly moved us up. I was embarrassed about the hasp on my bedroom door so I rushed him by and took him directly to the attic. I lit a stick of incense. while he waited in the doorway, gazing in nervously.
"Don't worry. There's nothing here that will hurt you," I promised. "I know that," he said, but not with great confidence, and entered.
"This was a favorite place for my mother and me." I began and then showed him the old pictures my mother had found, raffling off the names we knew and the names we had created, as well as a line or two about them, which was also mostly imagined.
"She is my favorite." I said showing him the picture of Jonathan Demerest's youngest daughter Belva. Clarence held it and studied her faint visage. Even awash in the sepia tint, her big eyes stood out.
"She looks so sad for a young girl," he said.
"Well, she fell in love with a young officer in her father's regiment. Captain Lance Arnold, and he fell in love with her even though she was only thirteen at the time."
"Thirteen? Really?"
"Yes. In those days women were engaged or married before they were twenty, you know."
"How old was he?"
"Twenty-three. Captain Arnold courted her and finally won her father's blessing. They were married when she was only fifteen and less than a year later, she was pregnant, but she and her baby died in a horrible birthing. Captain Arnold killed himself in pier"
"You're kidding?" Clarence said.
I wiped a tear from my cheek and shook my head. Then I took the picture from him and stared at it.
"She wrote exquisite but sad poems mourning the short life of beautiful things. She was a very sensitive person who liked to wander through the fields and forest and talk to the animals."
I closed my eyes and recited. "The color of roses lives in my eyes long after they have faded and gone. I lock the scent within my heart and then I sleep, they bloom once more."
I sighed and then looked at Clarence. He seemed about to cry himself. His eyes shone brilliantly with unused tears.
"Wow," he said.
"Sometimes. I really feel her beside me," I whispered. "When I'm very sad and alone. I close my eyes and I sense her fingers moving against mine."
I put my hand on Clarence's and he jerked back.
"You're kidding?"
"No," I said. "It's true. You can feel the love and the energy they left here. Close your eyes," I told him, "Relax and put everything out of your mind. Just conjure up her face. Go on." I urged and took his hand again. He let me hold his fingers and draw him closer to me.
We sat together, our eyes closed, holding hands, listening to our own hearts beat.
"Belva," I whispered. Then I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
He acted as if he had been stung. "Why did you do that?"
"I couldn't help it. Belva made me do it," I said. "She takes me over sometimes. I think she sees you as her young captain when he was first courting her. She gets excited again and full of joy. Do you feel anything inside you?"
He cocked his head. considering. "What should I feel?" he asked.
"A strange warmth, but a pleasant warmth. When you look at me, what do you see?" I asked bringing my face closer. "Look into my eyes, deeply."
He nodded.
"Yeah. I see what you mean. I think."
"Yes, you do," I told him. "I feel it, too. They're in us, taking us over."
I kissed him on the lips and then I did it again and he moved closer and put his arm around me, drawing me into him. I started to lie back, unbuttoning my blouse as I did so. He hovered over me, his eyes full of excitement, amazed. I reached up for him, drawing his face toward me, his lips to my breasts. He kissed me and for a moment I held onto him as if I were drowning. He moved completely over me and we kissed again and again.
"Wait," I said and sat up to strip off my blouse. I wasn't wearing a bra.
"God, you're beautiful. Cinnamon. I've been afraid to say it. but I always thought so. Right from the first time I set eyes on you."
"Yes. Captain Arnold said something just like that to Belva," I told him. "Don't you see? It's happening just the way it happened to them. We must make love," I decided. "We must make this night the most special night of our lives and then hold it in our hearts forever and ever."
He nodded and started to undress. I slipped my jeans down and moments later, both of us naked, we embraced. We kissed until we were breathless and then, as if coming to his senses. Clarence pulled away abruptly.
"I could get you in trouble," he said. He shook his head. "I feel like Mrs, Miller is standing next to us, warning us about safe sex like she does in health education. I'm not exactly prepared for this."
I smiled at him.
"You're always the gentleman, sir, considerate as well as loving. That's what Belva said to her captain."
"I want to make love to you. Cinnamon, more than anything," he said mournfully.
"Me too, but you're right, Captain." He laughed.
"Wait," I said. "I have an idea."
I rose, wrapped the afghan around inc and told him I'd be right back. He covered himself with his jacket. I tiptoed out of the attic, down the short stairway to Mommy and Daddy's room. Long ago, I had gone in there curious and explored. I discovered where Daddy kept his contraceptives. They were still where I had first found them. As soon as I had one. I rushed back to the attic.
Clarence was exactly where and how I had left him as if he feared a movement no matter how slight in either direction would shatter the magic. I stepped before him and opened my hand. His eyes widened.
He reached for the contraceptive and turned to put it on while I slipped back beside him on the settee. Then he moved over me, lingering for a moment.
"I've fantasized about this so much, it feels unreal."
"It's real." I whispered. I put my hands around the back of his neck and drew his lips down to mine. It was a long, passionate, wonderful kiss.
"Oh Captain, my special, private, wonderful Captain," I whispered. "Take me to paradise."
There were moments when I thought maybe Clarence was right: I was making love in a dream. It did seem unreal, ethereal, but my blood was stirred by my pounding, hungry heart, a heart starving for love, for real affection, for warmth. My head echoed with our moans of pleasure, our reaching out for each other, into each other. I was afraid it would stop and when it did. I came down from my ecstasy reluctantly.
He softened and relaxed over me, his breath slowing until he was able to raise himself away and look into my face.
"Cinnamon," he said.
"No," I said putting my finger on his lips. "Call me Belva. I am Belva."
He smiled.
"Belva. I-- I really love you."
"I'm glad. Captain. Now take me away from here," I said. "Take me someplace wonderful where we will always be happy,"
"Okay," he said smiling.
I moved over a little and he scrunched down beside me. I pulled the afghan over us and told him to rest and be still and enjoy our wonderful, blissful aftermath, He closed his eyes. We held each other and soon, we fell asleep.
Grandmother Beverly's screams shattered our dreams. She was in the attic doorway, grimacing with revulsion, her eyes big, her mouth twisted.
"What depraved and despicable thing are you doing?" she cried. Clarence trembled as if the house itself was shaking.
"Get out!" I screamed back at her. "This is my private place. Get out!"
"I knew it! I knew when I didn't hear a sound that you were wallowing in sin. Disgusting-- and in your own home, right above my head,"
I leaped up from the settee, forgetting my nudity, and closed the attic door in her face.
Clarence was rushing to get dressed.
"Oh wow, sorry," he said. "I'd better go. I fell asleep. I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about. She had no right to spy on us." I started to dress,
"You going to be all right?" he asked when he got his shoes on and reached for his jacket.
"I'll be peachy keen as always. Don't worry about it. Clarence. This is a glass house. The people in it can't throw stones."
He nodded and reached for the doorknob. I Mess I couldn't blame him for being terrified. I hurriedly completed my own dressing and walked him down to the front entrance. Then I stepped outside. It had started to rain so we remained under the portico.
"I'll meet you at the lockers in the morning." "Yes."
He kissed me quickly.
"Night," he said.
"Good night. Clarence. Clarence," I called when he stepped down. He turned.
"Yes?"
"You made a wonderful Captain Arnold."
He smiled and shrugged.
"Maybe
I
should go out for the play, too."
"Maybe," I said and watched him get into his car and drive away.
Then I turned and reentered the house. Grandmother Beverly was standing in the shadows. She stepped into the light so that the glow of the chandelier washed the darkness off her face. It glowed like ivory, her eves twirling with anger.
"Your father will hear of this," she promised.
"Yes," I said. "and when you tell him, ask him what's worse, what I did or what he did? Ask him if adultery is worse," I threw back at her.
She raised her hands to the base of her throat.
"That's... a lie, but even so," she added quickly. "you're still a minor and..."
"I'm not a child. Grandmother. A hundred years ago, women were married and had children by my age. I'm a woman and what makes me age is not time. What makes me age is what the so-called adults around me do, to me, in spite of me. They won't let us be children. They kill the child in us quickly and then they ask us to be grownups like they are.
"I'd rather live in my attic," I spat and left her still mostly in the shadows, glaring out at me like some owl in the darkness waiting for easier prey.
I sprawled on my bed and gazed up at the ceiling until I felt my heart slow and my body calm down. Then I reached for the script Miss Hamilton had given me. It was a play entitled
Death Takes a Holiday
. I was familiar with the story. It was one of Mommy's favorites, actually.
A young woman is courted by a handsome man who turns out to be Death on holiday and when it's time for him to leave, he tells her who he is and she reveals she always knew and she's still willing to go with him.
Romantic slop?
Maybe.
But at the moment. I would gladly put my hand into his and run off. I could do this part well. I thought.
I could do it so well. I'd frighten myself.