Writing on the Wall

by Christopher Cleary

  “He doesn’t take me to work.”

  When the DJ finally stopped yapping and played music, Megan jumped up and spun her way toward the radio. “This song is boffo groovalicious,” she said while shimmying about to the tune with her blanket still wrapped around her.

  “It’s good.”

  The verses were meager, but the chorus was catchy.

  “Doesn’t it make you want to dance?” she said, smiling.

  “I’ve never had a song make me want to dance.”

  “But you do dance, right?”

  No. Donnie Betts was not a dancer. He was built long and skinny and without the chip required for physical coordination. Donnie hoped that it was still under development and someday would be installed in his brain. All Megan seemed to be doing was shuffling her feet from side to side, so he said that he did dance and joined her.

  Halfway through the song, Megan let her blanket drop and grabbed Donnie by the arms. “What about Sada?” she said. “Sada has her license. She’ll take us to the store for what we need.”

  “She’ll ask questions.”

  “Maybe she will. Maybe she won’t.”

  “We can’t take that chance. Plus, we can’t bring her to the storage unit anyway.”

  “That’s true.”

  Both of them stopped dancing while they worked it out. In ten minutes, they came up with a feasible plan for scoring some necessities for Unit #143.

  After checking out several different lunch tables when she first started attending Haviland High, Megan decided to eat regularly at Sada’s table. It was a hodgepodge of voluntary outcasts from various cliques. One girl was a jock who played whatever sport was in season and another was into journalism. There was a cheerleader, a punkster, the class treasurer, and the girl who consistently set the curve on Algebra exams. Megan’s role, of course, was the new girl.

  Sada may have been the prettiest girl in school, but it was difficult to tell under her heavy mascara, dark cherry lipstick, and hair dyed so black that it sometimes shined a deep blue. If someone were to like Sada, they were forced to like her for who she was and not what she looked like. This rarely happened at Haviland High. Despite her shoddy clothing, Sada lived in an affluent neighborhood and drove an SUV to school every day.

  After lunch on Wednesday, Megan approached Sada with her request.

  The story was that Megan was going to have a surprise anniversary party for her parents for which she needed a card table and two chairs. Since it was a surprise, Donnie would have to accompany them and the goods would have to be stored at his house until it was time for the party.

  Megan did not like concocting this lie for Sada, but her loyalty was with Donnie and the secrecy of the storage unit.

  It was a flimsy story. Why a card table and why only two chairs? Megan prepared a yarn about their first date at her father’s apartment when he was poor and could only afford a card table with two chairs. She’d use this extension of the lie only as a last resort.

  Scheduling was tricky. They would have to drop the stuff off while Donnie’s house was vacant so he could stash the goods where they wouldn’t be found. Megan’s house would have been available Saturday night, but Sada was not. Plus, Megan’s mom was into everything and would have found the purchased supplies if they were in the house. How would Megan explain that?

  It was set for Friday night. Sada would pick them up around six and they would go to the mall. Before the night was over, they would make the necessary purchases and drop the stuff off at Donnie’s house.

  The two girls stopped at Megan’s locker before class.

  “What’s he like?” Sada sounded groggy, like she was just napping instead of eating lunch.

  “Who? Donnie?” Megan asked. “You’ve known him longer than I have.”

  “Everyone in this school has.”

  “So you should be telling me.”

  “You’d think.”

  Megan pushed her locker shut. “He’s nice. He’s easy to talk to.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No. Why? What’s your impression of him?”

  “We used to call him glass of milk,” Sada told her. “You know? Wholesome. Like a glass of milk. Kind of innocent. For a while I even thought that he was datable, but he’s such a good kid. I didn’t wanna corrupt him.”

  “Maybe some of his good traits would have rubbed off on you.”

  “Yeah, well, either way…”

  They entered the classroom but avoided the other students. The late bell had yet to ring.

  “If things go cool Friday, maybe we’ll see a movie next week,” Sada said.

  Megan’s one word reply, “Yeah,” came out slowly. She was trying to figure out if Sada meant the three of them, the two of them, or Sada and Donnie.

  Speaking even softer now, Sada said, “I just never know how to treat him.”

  Megan laughed at this. “What are you talking about?”

  “Since the thing with his dad came out, he’s kept to himself. I really don’t know what to say…”

  “What about his dad?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  The late bell rang and they took their seats. Megan didn’t hear a word the teacher said for the entire period.

  As soon as the bell rang, she jumped from her seat and asked Sada, “What about Donnie’s father?”

  NINE

  Three or four times a month, Megan stayed after school an extra fifteen minutes to meet with a teacher for a little extra help with her homework. Donnie would walk ahead and purchase their drinks or snacks from Swifts and then go on to the storage facility and wait for her. She sometimes caught up to him if he became absorbed in a video game.

  On March 8th, Donnie was the one to stay after school. At least, that’s what he told Megan.

  He was disappointed that he received a B instead of an A on his oral presentation. Donnie scored A’s on occasion, but it wasn’t a common grade for him. He did know that he deserved an A for his presentation and he was determined to get it.

  It was an easy presentation for him. The topic was jobs and he talked about working at Dirt’s driving range. He especially felt comfortable with his topic because no one could dispute his information since no one else worked for Dirt. His public-speaking skills came naturally and instinctively. Donnie was born with what actors called “presence.” When he was in front of a crowd, it was difficult for others to look away. They felt compelled to watch him.

  When Mr. Colby asked for volunteers to go first, Donnie Betts was the only student to raise his hand. This caught a few of the students’ attention and it definitely caught the teacher’s. Donnie seldom raised his hand in any of his classes. He wasn’t adverse to it; he just never cared to interact with the class. He preferred the role of silent observer.

  In a perverse way, Donnie actually looked forward to going first. He wanted to set the bar high for everyone else. He wanted his presentation to be so fascinating that the other students were even more intimidated; thus, making his presentation look even better.

  Mr. Colby was renowned for giving very few A’s for oral presentations. Certainly some students had to score A’s, though. Donnie saw no reason for him not to be one of those students.

  Megan, who had a different teacher, but whose class was following the same curriculum, dreaded giving her oral presentation. She was a cute, charismatic, and gifted girl. She had nothing to fear, yet she was horrified of standing in front of her classmates. Donnie thought this through one day in Unit #143 while he was writing down a few notes for his speech. Everyone would be so self-conscious and focused on their performance that it wouldn’t take much to do something stellar.

  When the day came and he finally stepped in front of his class, Donnie felt the proverbial butterflies. For a moment, just a moment, he became nervous. Then he reminded himself that everyone, if they admitted it or not, would suffer from the anxiety of being in front of their classmates. Donnie was in control
. He smiled at this thought and that smile set the tone for his speech.

  He took those butterflies and put them to work. He harnessed the power of their fluttering wings and injected his speech with energy and an edge. He made eye contact with every student, at least the ones who actually were looking at him, and he saw that they were actively listening. They were interested. And they weren’t only interested because his topic was cool, but because he captivated them with his commitment to the presentation. For a boy who didn’t speak much, Donnie had an incredible amount of confidence speaking in front of a classroom with twenty-five students.

  In his opening, Donnie rhetorically asked, “How would you like to be paid for having golf balls launched at you?” He went on to clarify that really wasn’t his job, but on some days it felt like it. Donnie said that he enjoyed working outdoors even when the weather wasn’t ideal. It was similar to picking up litter but more dignified. He often set his own hours, but was responsible for ensuring that the shack never ran out of golf balls to sell.

  He concluded by telling his two stories about being hit. Neither time did he sustain a serious injury. Then, because he knew there were wise guys who would give it a try, he dared all of them to come out and take a whack at him. “If you think you can swing a metal club into a small white ball, hit it over one-hundred yards, and make contact with a moving target, then come and try it. Buckets are five bucks a piece and we’ll take every cent you’ve got.”

  Mr. Colby only saw fit to give him a high B for his work. Donnie saw right through this. He knew that Mr. Colby was notorious for grading even tougher on the first of three consecutive oral presentations because he wanted to force his students to improve. Donnie wasn’t about to let this happen to him. When the bell rang for lunch, Donnie held Mr. Colby at his desk and pleaded his case over and over. When Mr. Colby couldn’t give ample enough reasons to justify the B, he was forced to grade Donnie’s presentation on its merits. He changed the grade to an A.

  “Donnie,” Mr. Colby said right before Donnie left the room. Donnie reluctantly turned around.

  The teacher set his glasses on his desk and leaned back in his chair, which reclined with the weight of his body. He said, “You could be president someday.”

  Donnie responded by leaving the room and going to lunch.

  Since he had already taken care of his oral presentation grade during school, he didn’t have to wait around afterwards to speak with his teacher. He had everything with him when the final bell rang so he could head straight for the storage unit without stopping at his locker. He needed to get there at least ten minutes before Megan.

  It was her sixteenth birthday and he had plans to decorate Unit #143. He hung purple streamers around the top of the unit and blew up balloons as fast as he could without passing out.

  He didn’t know what to get her as a gift so he purchased, and wrapped the best he could, a few small gifts. Donnie got her three different types of purple pens, her favorite for doing homework or anything else that involved writing. He also got her a little stand to lean books on. She wouldn’t be able to use it until they got the card table, but it would come in handy once they did. The last item was purchased at a second-hand store. It was a bracelet. He had the money to purchase a new one, but he didn’t see any that fit her personality like the one at the consignment shop.

  When he finished the decorations, he had leftover time to think about his gifts. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten her anything. Megan might get the wrong impression. Would she have done anything special for his birthday? None of that mattered, he thought. He wanted to decorate the storage unit and give her a few gifts because… well, because… because he liked her… as a friend… he cared for her. It was with Megan that he shared the storage unit, not anyone else. It was their secret. Their special secret. Just like their relationship was special.

  The garage door shot up and banged to a stop when it reached the top.

  “Donnie Betts!” Megan’s hair twisted and writhed in the air like the snakes of Medusa. “You have some explaining to do!”

  TEN

  “Surprise?” he said.

  Her mood momentarily lightened as she took in the streamers and balloons. Donnie could tell that she appreciated the mini-celebration he had put together for her. Then her eyebrows slanted down and in as she dropped her satchel against a side wall of the unit.

  She met Donnie underneath the light. Her hands went to her hips. “You’ve been lying to me.”

  Donnie didn’t understand. Was she upset with the lie about staying after school to get his grade fixed? That’s ridiculous. He did it for her. It had to be something else, but he didn’t know what.

  “I feel like a fool,” she went on. “You know, I thought you were all right.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ve been telling you everything. Private stuff that no one here knows! I trusted you.” She crossed her arms.

  “I haven’t told anyone anything.” It was the truth.

  “No. It’s what you’ve been keeping from me! Why didn’t you tell me your dad…,” then she couldn’t say it. It was all she could think about since Sada filled her in, but now with Donnie, dear Donnie, standing right in front of her, she had to alter her words. Her voice softened some, “Why did you let me believe that your dad was still alive?”

  Donnie Betts vanished. One second he was there. Then he was gone. His body remained behind, but it was only a vacant shell. He stood erect but motionless. His eyes were open but nothing that passed in their field of view registered in his mind. The central cog of his brain continued to rotate, but the other wheels didn’t spin with it.

  Megan suddenly felt alone in the storage unit. She became frightened. “Donnie?” Her voice became gentler. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She remembered when she had seen a similar look on him. It was on her first day of work at Friendly’s. What was it that she said that day that made him quasi-comatose? Did she repeat those same words? No. That was something about finding a job. She hated seeing him in this state. She came to the miserable realization that she had overreacted and had been too harsh.

  “I’m sorry, Donnie,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to be so…” She wasn’t getting through to him. He was gone. He was floating through a distant world. The only way for Megan to reach him was to purchase a ticket and join him there. “Donnie…” She took his hand in hers.

  His lips barely moved, “Who told you?”

  “Sada.” Megan closed the distance between them. “Listen Donnie, I didn’t mean to be so mean about it. I thought we could share whatever, you know? Like everything was safe in here. Everything between us. I thought we had an understanding. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Donnie lightly rubbed a thumb against his lower lip. “How do you tell someone that?”

  “Donnie, I’m your friend. I wouldn’t hurt you. Why would you keep that from me? Why would you let me believe…?”

  Donnie closed his eyes. “It’s that everyone else knows. Everyone knows. It was nice to have someone who didn’t.” He took a breath and opened his eyes. “After he killed himself, I knew that nothing would ever be the same. That was that. My life and the world around me changed forever. But with you… with you, it was different. With you things were like they used to be. Like they were before people would see me and say, ‘There’s the kid whose dad committed suicide.’”

  Megan Priddy hadn’t thought it through from Donnie’s perspective. “I’m sorry, Donnie. I didn’t even think how much you must hurt. I did, some, but...”

  Megan went from feeling like a fool because she was sharing her secrets with Donnie without his reciprocation to feeling like a fool because she had forgotten what it was like to escape a past where people try to pigeonhole you. Megan’s own selfishness disgusted her.

  To get his attention, she tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie and said, “Hey.” Her glistening green eyes locked with his rich gray irises. “What I like is that you are who, who you are. Th
at’s what I dig about you. You don’t try to impress me or be someone that you’re not. And even the ones who say they don’t care what others think, like Sada, really do. No matter how hard they try, they can’t help caring at least just a little. You’re the only person I’ve come across who truly doesn’t. You’re Donnie Betts and that’s who I like hanging out with.”

  Donnie shivered from the cold.

  “Come on,” Megan said. “We’ll share our blankets.”

  She folded hers over a few times and set it on the floor to keep their butts from freezing. Donnie joined her and they sat down together with the other blanket wrapped around them.

  The story of his father’s death was one that Donnie never told. It would require him to spontaneously speak more words than he had since the man’s suicide.

  “His problems started when he was laid off. Not his fault. They closed the local office. He was out of a job, along with one or two hundred others. It was announced a couple months before it happened so he started looking for another job right away. He tried. At first, he tried.”

  Donnie continued, the words echoing funny in his head and sounding foreign to his own ears. “With each unemployment check that arrived in the mail, he drank a little more. And the more he drank, the more depressed he got. That stuff you learn in eighth grade health class, you know, alcohol is a depressant, that’s the truth. I’ve seen it. It would help him take one step forward before shoving him back two.

  “But I didn’t know how bad it was for a while. Everyone feels down from time to time, right? He was out of work for a few months. There’s nothing unusual about feeling upset about that.

  “We no longer could afford to go to the movies, but that didn’t stop us from renting them. But, after a while, he stopped watching them with me. He’d say something about job searching and disappear. Or he’d halfway fall asleep while we were watching them. Then in the middle of the night, I’d hear the TV on. He’d complain about being tired, but he never seemed to sleep through the night.