Writing on the Wall

by Christopher Cleary

  “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up knife throwing.”

  He tossed his Pirates hat on the table. “This will just take a minute. Less than a minute.”

  Donnie took a piece of white chalk from its box. He bent down and pressed it against the wall on the outside of Megan’s right foot. Taking his time and being careful with his line, Donnie began to trace her body.

  Megan stood still in her blue denim overall shorts. She stared straight ahead.

  Donnie followed the contour of her right leg, past her waistline and up her torso. Tiny bits of chalk dust floated down to the ground.

  His right hand held the chalk and the chalk never left the wall. When he reached her right arm, he followed it, traveling back down toward the ground like he was on a switchback.

  Through the corner of her right eye, Megan peeked at him. She watched as Donnie rounded her hand, passed the bracelet that he had given her for her birthday, and headed back toward the top of her body.

  He slowly drew a line over her bicep and around the curve of her delicate shoulder.

  Her shoulder led to her desirable neck. Long and thin and smooth and a perfect cream color. Donnie had never realized how gorgeous a neck could be.

  He stopped. The chalk remained against the wall, but his line came to a halt. Her hair, Megan Priddy’s trademark red/blonde-blonde/red, delicious orange ‘n cream candy-colored hair, tickled the top of Donnie Betts’s hand. His lungs froze. He stared at the point where her hair made contact with his hand. So this is what it felt like, he thought. And this is what it looks like when I’m touching it. His head tilted to one side and he regained a slow, methodic breath.

  Donnie’s eyes never left the piece of chalk. Megan’s eyes didn’t leave Donnie. His hand slowly resumed moving. More hair fell over his hand. His breath quickened. Involuntarily, he licked his lips as he thought about how her hair would taste. Surely it would melt in his mouth and taste better than cotton candy.

  Megan watched him explore every bit of her body. Instead of feeling self-conscious, she felt fabulous. She heard the dull scratch of the chalk scraping the concrete go from one ear to the other as he rounded her head. Her lips fell open and her eyelids grew heavy. The moment was turning into a dream.

  The chalk outline traveled down the other side of her neck and across Megan’s left shoulder. Donnie silently said goodbye to her gorgeous hair. He wanted to turn back. He wanted to retrace that same line just to experience those marvelous tresses again, but he continued.

  Megan’s outstretched left arm took Donnie away from the trunk of her body. With his generous height, he had no difficulties following her arm to her hand, where he lingered to inspect the rings on her thumb and middle finger before heading back toward her body.

  Since he was using his right hand and tracing the left side of her body, Donnie was very close to Megan. He couldn’t keep himself from staring at her breasts since they were directly in front of him. That made him think of the mannequins dressed in nothing but bras and panties at the mall.

  And down he went. Down past her groovalicious belly and alluring hips. Down her left leg. Down, down, down as a Ramones tune beat from the boom box’s speakers.

  When he reached her foot, he uttered, “Almost there.”

  Donnie briefly pulled the piece of chalk off the wall and placed it on the inside of her foot. He traveled back up toward the center of her body.

  Megan’s relaxed breath journeyed deeper inside of her. Her chest expanded with large gulps of air as she anticipated the path his hand would follow.

  Past her knee. Past her smooth thighs.

  Delicately, oh so delicately, Donnie traced the curve of her most private area. He was careful not to come in contact with denim, but he didn’t shy away from making an accurate outline.

  Back down he went, one final time.

  A thin layer of powdery white dust covered the floor beneath Megan. They would need to buy a broom.

  Donnie stood straight up. Megan took hold of his T-shirt with her right hand and held him there so he could not get away. She held him until he looked down into her pineapple-leaf green eyes and when he did, she kissed him.

  At age sixteen, Donnie Betts helped Megan Priddy discover lust. She placed her left hand on the back of his neck and kissed him again. Longer this time.

  When they stopped to catch their breath, Megan looked from one side of the unit to the other. Her eyes settled on the radio.

  She hypothesized, “I think the Ramones turn me on.”

  FIFTEEN

  The next day, Donnie’s shift at work ended before Megan’s, but Megan was the first to arrive at Unit #143. She used the privacy to change out of her Friendly’s uniform and into a yellow and blue pastel flowered summer dress.

  Donnie rode up on his mountain bike nearly half an hour after Megan finished changing her clothes. Beads of perspiration rolled down his forehead and dripped from his face.

  “Hey,” he said, dumping his backpack on a chair and moving straight to the cooler for a refreshment. His T-shirt was a deeper shade of green from the sweat where his backpack had been pressing against him. It clung uncomfortably to his back. He yanked a towel from his backpack and wiped his face off.

  “Hi,” Megan replied as casually as she could.

  Neither spoke after that, but it wasn’t for a lack of having anything to say.

  Megan enjoyed being open with Donnie. She could explore her thoughts out loud or just say silly stuff that made little sense without being judged by him. This was the first time that Megan had difficulties speaking what was on her mind. Part of the problem of telling Donnie what she was thinking was that she wasn’t entirely clear about what it was.

  For the past half hour, she had been sitting and looking at the chalk outline of herself on the wall. After the kiss ended and before they left, Donnie had added a mixture of red, pink, and yellow to the outline for a very rough approximation of her hair. She insisted that he draw the bracelet around her wrist as well. It was strange looking at a life-size tracing of her body.

  Starting where Donnie first pressed the chalk against the wall, Megan followed the contour of the line. Silently and alone, she relived each exhilarating moment. She imagined Donnie in front of her, carefully moving along the curves of her body with the chalk.

  Then she closed her eyes and thought about the kiss. Her impression at the time was that Donnie enjoyed it as much as she did. He tasted better than a Rice Krispie treat, but it wasn’t just his lips that gave her bliss. They physically shared something emotional. It was a new sensation that she had thought about all night, until she fell asleep with a smile of contentment smeared across her face.

  The next morning she awoke with the same tingling sensation, but an unease now accompanied it. The excitement of the kiss lingered on her lips for her entire shift at Friendly’s that day. The question of whether it was the right thing to do haunted her during that same period. She was torn. She didn’t want to encourage anything that might cause a strain on their relationship.

  She valued Donnie’s friendship more than any possession. He was dependable. He was caring, fun, and understanding. He listened to her and took a sincere interest in everything that she did. His dry wit made her laugh. He gave her space when she needed it but still managed to always be there for her at the right time. Donnie Betts was everything that her father wasn’t.

  He even let her read some of the beautiful thoughts that he recorded in his notebook. He only let her look at a few pages and not for very long, but it was like watching the favorite part of her favorite movie.

  When he pulled the cover to one side and exposed the pages inside, he was opening up more than just the notebook.

  It was a random blend of scribbles that only made sense in its entirety to him. Some of it was like poetry where the lines ran together and some of it was like dialogue from a play. All of it tugged at her heart or made her laugh. One page was filled with the word “away” written over and over again. Saying it
or thinking it seemed meaningless, but when that one word was repeated on a piece of paper from top to bottom, it was spellbinding.

  She watched as Donnie rehydrated and caught his breath. He ran a hand through his hair and trapped the sweaty mop underneath his baseball cap. He sniffed once and scratched his arm. At that moment, he became irresistibly attractive. She wanted to kiss him right then. She wanted nothing more than to hold and kiss a very sweaty and dirty boy. Had she lost her mind?

  She wondered if Donnie desired the same thing. Maybe he viewed their kiss as a mistake. Possibly, he regretted it. It could be that he wanted to pretend that it never happened. It could be that he wanted everything to return to the way it was.

  Megan studied his face. No one could read Donnie’s countenance better than she. Actually, the only other person who could read it at all was his mother. Megan looked at it for signs of what he wanted, but beyond quenching his thirst, she saw nothing. She knew Donnie though. He was an expert at hiding his emotions. She could tell from the crinkle in the corner of his eyes and the way he kept his lips pushed together that something was going on inside him. She just couldn’t decipher what it was.

  He’d eventually tell her what was on his mind. He always did. He just never did it before he was ready. This time she couldn’t wait. There was too much going on inside of her. Honesty was the cornerstone of their friendship, but this was a situation they had never encountered.

  So just tell him, she thought. Or better yet, just kiss him again!

  She held back. She restrained herself. Why? She didn’t know. Then she figured it out. Donnie’s heart was fragile. After losing someone whom he loved so very much to suicide, did Donnie still have any love of his own to give away?

  It scared her. She was afraid of hurting Donnie, unintentionally, of course. What if a romantic relationship wasn’t right for them? She couldn’t take the chance. Megan didn’t want to force Donnie into something that he wasn’t ready for. She did love him. What else could that feeling be? Megan had fallen in love with adorable Donnie.

  More and more questions kept popping up. STOP! she silently yelled at herself. Megan refused to take the chance of hurting Donnie. If their relationship was to go forward romantically, he would have to be the one to make the next move. Even if that’s what he wanted, it could take an eternity. He always made certain that he wanted something before acting upon it. Megan would keep her feelings to herself. It went against everything they based their friendship on, but there was no other way. She could never forgive herself if she caused Donnie pain.

  “I bought a poster,” he said, setting his drink down on the table. He pulled a tube of paper wrapped in plastic from his backpack.

  “What is it?” Megan asked.

  Keeping his head down, Donnie smiled. He quickly pulled it back to a grin and then, before he looked up, the elation was gone from his face.

  He was up to something, she thought. That’s good. He smiled. He’s over yesterday. She wouldn’t have to dwell on it anymore. He’s moving on and I should, too.

  He poked a hole through the plastic at the hollow end of the tube and slid the poster out. In a couple of quick, long strides, he was at the wall opposite Megan’s chalk outline.

  “Look away,” he said.

  “What?”

  “C’mon. Just do it.”

  She obliged.

  Megan could hear the poster being unraveled, followed by the sound of packing tape, presumably clear, ripping from its roll.

  A minute later, Donnie said, “OK.”

  She turned and looked. Before her was a black and white poster of four guys hanging out at the corner of Bowery and Leeker Street. Red capital letters in the upper left-hand corner of the poster read: RAMONES.

  Megan blushed and her freckles darkened. Donnie stood next to the poster, beaming at her. There was no question about how he felt now.

  Kissing in Unit #143 became a regular activity for Donnie and Megan that summer. Positioning themselves for it was difficult. They either had to stand or push two chairs together. Neither was a comfortable necking position for very long.

  They listened to Watership Down on cassette regularly and it did not take them long to finish.

  “That was a good ending,” she said on the day the last bit of the final chapter played. “Those rabbits really had to stick together.”

  “Yeah, it was a good book,” Donnie agreed. He fast-forwarded the cassette to the end, removed it, and turned on the radio.

  “At first I wasn’t sure if I’d like how they had those stories, you know those folk tales they were telling all the time, inside the real story. But they were just as cool.” She took out the two decks of cards. “Who was your favorite character? I liked the bird.”

  “Yeah, he was a big help.” Donnie tapped the skin of his tambourine. The little cymbals jingled. “I liked Fiver.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Fiver was the one who had the vision. He was the reluctant hero. He kept them going. How could you not dig Fiver?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t,” Megan was slightly defensive.

  Donnie put the pack of tapes in his backpack. “When I take this back, I’ll pick up another one.”

  “Can you wait a week on that?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “I’d like to read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Can I borrow your copy?” She thought that he might say “no” since his copy held strong sentimental value. If that were the case, she could buy her own on the Internet.

  “I’d love for you to borrow it.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled. Donnie kissed her. He couldn’t resist. “All right, c’mon lover boy,” she said, playfully admonishing him. “Let’s play double solitaire.”

  “Play what?”

  “Double solitaire.”

  “What is that? Can’t we play blackjack or, better yet, chess?” This was an inside joke. During the school year, they sometimes told their parents that they were staying after school because they were in the chess club. No such club existed and, if it did, it certainly wouldn’t meet as often as they said it did.

  “Sit down,” she told him. “I’ll teach you. It’s not hard. You know how to play solitaire, right?”

  “Not without a computer.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  He shook his head.

  Megan rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly, purposely making a big show of it. She shuffled and dealt the cards so she could go over the rules that Donnie needed clarification on. Once it was clear that he understood the basic rules of regular solitaire, she picked the cards up and tossed him the second deck.

  “K,” she said, “it’s just like regular solitaire. You deal your game and I deal mine. The only difference is that we share aces.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like if I put the ace of hearts up, you can put your two of hearts on top of it.”

  “Oh, all right.”

  “We only win if we both get all of our cards up.”

  They played for over an hour. When they finished it was dark outside. Donnie pulled his chair to the edge of the unit and Megan joined him.

  “I wish we could see more stars,” he said.

  Megan observed the sky. She counted about ten. “I never really thought about it,” she said. “There’s usually more than that. Aren’t there?”

  “Way more. They’re there. We just can’t see them from all the light pollution.”

  “We should plan a field trip, you know? Drive way out into some real rural area so we can see all the stars. Let’s do it.”

  “Right now?”

  “No, but soon.”

  “All right.”

  They held hands and searched the sky for anything unusual.

  “That star is real bright,” Megan literally pointed it out.

  “It’s probably a planet.”

  “Don’t we need a telescope for that?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Crazy. I didn’t know tha
t. Which one is it?”

  “I don’t know. Venus, maybe?”

  “We’ll need like an astronomy book or something for our field trip so we know what’s what.”

  Donnie shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “Yeah, that’ll be cool.”

  The Ramones came on. Megan gave Donnie a sidelong glance. Any Ramones song always provoked the same response – a French kiss.

  They didn’t have to wait a week to go to the library. Megan finished Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in only three days.

  They met in the street between their houses to go to the library. Donnie had his bike. Megan did not.

  “Let’s take our bikes,” Donnie urged. “It’s not far.”

  “Nah. I’ve got the van. My mom’s not going anywhere all day. C’mon, I’ll drive.” She moved closer to him. “We don’t have to come straight home after the library, you know? The van has a comfortable back seat.”

  “Comfortable?”

  It wasn’t really that comfortable. “More so than the chairs that came with the card table.”

  Donnie turned and walked his bike to the garage. Megan waited for him. They walked across the street together and got in the Priddys’ blue mini-van. Before they pulled out of Megan’s driveway, her mother rushed to the passenger side door.

  Megan said, “Oh boy,” as Donnie powered down the window.

  “Hi, Donnie. How are you?” Megan’s mom cheerily inquired.

  “Good, Mrs. Priddy.”

  “Good! How are things at the driving range?”

  “It’s all good.”

  “Megan tells me that you have a good swing.”

  “I guess.”

  “You may need to give Mr. Priddy some lessons!”

  “I doubt that.”

  Megan flipped through a book of CDs that she had taken from her bedroom.

  Donnie fiddled with the ends of his shorts and then adjusted his baseball cap.