me standing here. Guess he has
something to say because he flips
a dangerous U-turn, pulls over
opposite me. I look both ways
three times, decide it’s safe to
cross, and walk real fast (running
would not be cool) in his direction.
I bend into his car. “What’s up?”
He looks into my eyes, licks
his lips. Give me your hand.
I’ll show you what’s up. I do,
and he does. And it is. Haven’t
heard from you. I’m really
surprised. Thought you kind
of liked the play. Was I wrong?
He reaches up, strokes
my cheek gently. No encore?
Rough Play, He Means
And I really did like it because
I’m sicker than he
is. Giving is one thing. Taking—and
enjoying—is something else
altogether. “An encore would
be nice.” I smile. “Maybe nice
is not the right word, though.”
Nice works. So how about it?
When can we get together
again? He winds his fingers
into my hair. Tugs gently,
brings my face right down
against his. Opens his mouth.
We are tongue on tongue
when the beep of a passing
peeping Tom reminds me
I’m standing beside a quite
public thoroughfare. Any
one could pass by and, oh
yeah, I’m supposed to be
hooking up with Mick.
For once, I’m glad he’s late,
although if he doesn’t show
pretty soon I might just have
to take off with Ty. Sheesh.
I really am sick, aren’t I?
Guess the best thing is to play
coy. “I’ll check my schedule
and get back to you, okay?”
He looks like I slapped him.
Hurt? Pissed? Totally surprised?
What? Does every girl he asks
jump straight into bed (cuffs)
with him? Has he never been
on the far side of “coy”? The
game moves to level two.
I Triple Promise
I’ll give him a call.
Straight up, I will, because
one guy will never be
enough for the likes of me.
Truth is, I can’t
believe one anything (guy,
girl, whatever you
happen to be into) could be
enough for anyone.
Too, too many “anyones” in
this ol’ world.
Let’s see. I’m currently
working on three.
All different. Smart. Not so.
Accomplished. Not
so. Older. Not so. Oh, and
speaking of Not So,
better late than never, Mick
arrives.
Ty’s Quite Recent Invitation
Was totally beyond my control.
I didn’t solicit. Didn’t even agree.
So why, pray fucking tell, do I feel
guilty? Guilt is not a Gardella trait.
Certainly not a Raeanne trait. What
the hell is up with me? Mick parks
with an overt flourish. Not much
subtle about Mick. He reminds me
of a Rottweiler. Eighty percent
brawn. Twenty percent affection,
long as you treat him right. I jump
up into the Avalanche, scoot almost
into his lap, give him an over-the-top
kiss, hoping he doesn’t taste guilt.
Whatever he tastes, he likes it, wants
another dose. I stop his tongue (not
to mention his hands) with a single
word. “No.” Then I assuage his obvious
disappointment. “Not enough privacy
here for what I’ve got in mind. Let’s go.”
He Starts to Turn South
But I stop him, with a hand on a spot
too high on his thigh to qualify as
“thigh.” “Let’s go to my house.
It’s empty.” And, of course, it
should
be empty, with Manuela out sick.
It’s a gamble, inviting Mick
to my house to party. But Mom’s
campaigning, Daddy’s judging, and
I
am the only one brave enough to
veer from the “should do” straight
into the “want to do.” And that is
so what I’m going to do. Better to
be
a little reckless than like Kaeleigh—
all uptight and frozen all the time.
Okay, so maybe I lean a bit
too far the other way, but
scared
is something I refuse to be. I’d
rather spit in the devil’s face.
So Mick and I will smoke up
and make out in my bedroom.
I don’t
think we’ll get caught, but the very
possibility is half the fun. And, with
a modicum of luck, no one will
know.
Kaeleigh
I Thought Last Block
Would never come. I’ve had
Ian on my mind all afternoon.
I know right now I
should
concentrate on Ms. Cavendish
and her impassioned stage direction.
But I’m standing here, so close
to Ian. And he smells good and all
I
want to do is kiss him again, like
we kissed earlier. Because for
the very first time, a kiss felt right,
and exactly the way a kiss should
be,
instead of like something dirty.
And what rose up inside of me
was something so intense
and so completely new, it
scared
me, only it scared me in a good
way instead of making me want
to crawl in a hole and die.
I slip my hand inside Ian’s and
I don’t
want anyone to see because
I’m afraid someone will pull
me away from him if they
know.
Our Fingers Interlock
And it feels like commitment.
And that begins a tug-of-war
inside me.
I want Ian to give me all of himself.
But that means returning
the priceless gift.
I want to open myself, let him inside.
But how do I give what has
always been taken?
I want to know what it means to be in love.
But in my dictionary, “in love”
is indefinable.
We Have to Unlock
To rehearse. And I feel regret,
and I know Ian feels it too.
At least our love scenes should
come easy for once. If I can
just remember my lines!
Places, everyone, directs Ms. C.
From the top, no music today.
Reluctantly, I start stage right.
Ian stops me with a gentle hand,
whispers, We need to talk. Can
I take you home? Please?
Yes. No. Oh God, what does he
want to talk about? A wave
of fear crashes over me. Makes
it hard to draw breath. Still I croak,
“Okay,” look into his eyes, try
to discern what’s hiding there.
I cannot see anything secret.
only love and something
I myself know only too well—
fear.
Ian, Afraid?
What can he possibly
be afraid of? He’s
the strongest person
I’ve ever known.
I fret on that all
through drama,
flub my lines every
time the thought
blankets my brain,
disrupts rote memory.
Finally the bell rings.
As we gather our things,
I notice Ian barely looks
at me, or at anyone
else for that matter.
And believe me, we
are the focus of more
than one person’s attention.
The one who I notice
most, beaming evil
rays from her charcoal
pencil-smeared eyes,
is the most-likely-to-be
our-next-class-president,
the ever-amiable Madison.
Ian Walks Past Her
Without so much as a nod,
despite the come-on smile
she gives him, as an obvious
jab at me. What’s up?
Ian slides an arm around
my waist. Ready?
His touch sends little electric
jolts through parts of my body
I usually try to ignore. “Ready.”
Madison is still staring as we
exit. I can feel her eyes stab
my back, and when I turn, she
mouths a single word. Slut.
I really don’t get her at all.
But how can I possibly care?
I am hip-to-hip with the most
incredible guy in the universe.
And for once I will let myself
accept our union. At least until
he takes me home and tells me,
as I fear he will, This is a mistake.
You don’t deserve my love.
This Afternoon
Comes laced with autumn chill.
Ian insists I wear his jacket,
and the sharp scent of leather lifts
up underneath the helmet’s face
shield. My arms hug Ian tight,
and as he shifts the Yamaha,
the muscles beneath his Levi
shirt tense and release. Tense
and release. And my body
tenses too. I’ve ridden behind
him many times before. So
why is it suddenly new?
His contours, taut and sinewy,
are exactly the same. The mink
curl of his hair creeps gently
from beneath his helmet. Same.
He commands the big bike
with skill and respect. Same
as always. But I am different.
And I don’t understand
exactly how. And I don’t
understand just why.
All I know is I love how it feels.
And I know I’m going to lose it,
just like I’ve lost everything
important in my life.
Daddy Isn’t Home
Not that I expected him to be.
It’s early yet. I climb down
from the bike, biting back
anxiety. “Want to come inside?”
Ian hesitates. Normally he
wouldn’t chance it. But today
whatever he has to say makes
the risk worthwhile. Okay.
Knowing spies might lurk,
we don’t touch until we’re
through the front door. Once
it closes, I’m in Ian’s arms.
Our kiss eclipses all others,
real, imagined, dreamed of.
It is the beginning of time,
it is the end of the ages.
I can’t breathe, don’t want
to breathe. I want to give my
breath to Ian, die in the giving.
I want to give him more….
Desire Strikes Like a Cobra
Sinks its fangs between my legs,
injects its venom. The heady
creep wanders from groin to belly.
I lift Ian’s hands, urge them
against the throb beneath
my blouse. “Touch me. Please?”
He wants to, does, and I love
his skin on mine. And then
he moans, Oh, Kaeleigh…
And suddenly a different
snake strikes, with lightning
ferocity. Not cobra, but python,
threading itself around me,
squeezing. Hissing, Oh, Kaeleigh.
Oh yes, that’s right, little flower.
I jerk back and Ian’s watery eyes
reflect the horror in my own.
Oh God, Kaeleigh, what is it?
Tell me! Then he softens, clay
in hot-water hands. Please
tell me. And he starts to cry.
And I cry too. And I want
to confess. And I fall so deep
into his tears that I think I’ll drown.
“Oh God, Ian. I love you
so much. If I could tell
anyone, I would tell you….”
Anger swells inside him now,
bloats like August carrion,
and his eyes fairly sizzle.
You are all I’ve ever wanted,
and I want you now with all
that I am. I don’t mean I want
sex with you, although I do
want that, too. I want the part
of you that you refuse to give.
And I Think
He will do as he’s always done
in the past—stalk away, out
the door. Rev up his bike,
leave me here, alone in his
exhaust. Small. Very small.
Instead he coaxes me, Please,
let me hold you. And I look,
but the python has dissolved
into the jungle, left me numb
with confusion and need.
The need for a friend. The need
for a lover. The need to trust
someone, and who can I trust,
if not Ian? I lean into the warmth
of him, the truth of him. I look
up into his eyes, find so much
love for me there I know I’ll
never be okay without him in
my life. My eyes beg him to
kiss me. And when he does,
it’s like rain on drought-starved
desert. I want to give him what he
asked for. Just as I think I will,
it full frontal hits me that
it’s best to let sleeping pythons lie.
Speaking of Snakes
I think it’s best for Ian to leave
before my personal serpent slithers
home. “I’m not ready to tell you
everything yet, but I want you to
know something changed today….”
Something profound, but I don’t
say that. “I’ve always loved you
like a friend, but I want us to be
more. I want to give you all of me,
and I will just as soon as I can. Okay?”
His eyes are red. Bleary.
But smeared in them is something
resembling hope. He smiles.
I’ve waited this long. Guess
a little longer won’t hurt.
But please try to trust me. Love
is meaningless without trust.
I can’t change what has happened
in the past, Kaeleigh. I can only
promise to make the future better.
And he kisses me again, and
there is no need for sex, no
need for hands. No demands.
No control. Only connection.
I Walk Ian to His Bike
Feeling completely disconnected
without my
fingers twined in his.
But the idea of spies—Daddy’s,
Mom’s, or some unknown covert
operatives—nags. I look right, left,
over my shoulder, across the street,
but can’t discern a single person
who might qualify as a spy.
Before Ian can put on his helmet,
I sneak one last delicious kiss.
“Oh, hey. You wanted to talk to me
about something, remember?”
Ian looks nowhere but directly
into my eyes. Think we covered it.
Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.
He straddles the Yamaha, turns
the key, pauses long enough
to say, I love you, and he’s gone.
My Normal MO
After Ian leaves me alone
is to run to the refrigerator,
empty most of it onto a plate
and smother every bad feeling.
Like an automaton, I go into
the kitchen, open the fridge,
peek inside. But for once,
nothing shouts, Eat me now!
Thinking back, I didn’t have
lunch, didn’t have breakfast.
I should be starving, and in
fact, my tummy’s rumbling.
I grab a bottle of raspberry
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