Megan missed Donnie. Between her house arrest and his suspension, she never got to see him, talk to him, or hang out with him. Instead of making it easier on her, reading Donnie’s personal entries in his makeshift journal made her long for him even more. She could have read the entire thing in one night, but refrained. She wanted to make it last the entire week.
Donnie delved into subject matters that she had never pondered. There were several instances when she felt the pain he described and wanted to give him a hug. His darker thoughts would have creeped her out had she not gotten to know him so well before reading it. Donnie seemed to be searching for the perfect hero, the perfect role model, some grand figure that constantly eluded him.
Some of the material still managed to scare her. One page was a handwritten copy of Hamlet’s “To Be or Not to Be” soliloquy. Until reading it in Donnie’s notebook, she hadn’t realized that Hamlet was contemplating suicide. For the first time, she understood that Donnie had considered following in his father’s footsteps. What would life in Haviland had been like for her if Donnie was gone before she even arrived?
When she met him, he didn’t stick out as a troubled youth. She now saw through his awkward charm and shy behavior. Donnie was a survivor. He had developed a unique emotional strength to endure the troubles he faced. He was more experienced in life than any of his peers and that made him more mature. Donnie was a well-adjusted youth when he could have turned out to be a total wreck. Megan admired him.
Friday night, when all of her friends were going to the bowling alley and the movies, Megan Priddy finished reading Donnie’s black notebook. She placed it in the drawer of her white night stand and pushed it shut. Before she fell asleep, she began to dream of her boyfriend. Waiting until Monday to see him again seemed like an eternity.
She dozed off after satisfying herself with pleasurable thoughts of him.
The next morning she woke up with a plan. Waiting until her father left for golf and her mother went outside to plant chrysanthemums, Megan used the purple phone in her room to quickly put a call in to Donnie.
He was lying flat on his back in bed, listening to the all alternative rock station on his clock/radio. Before Megan and the storage unit, he seldom listened to music. After being away from it for a week, he was beginning to miss it and tuned in to one of their favorite stations. When the phone rang, he had no desire to get out of bed to answer it, but since his mother was sleeping after working all night, he jumped up and ran down the hall to pick it up.
“Donnie?” Megan used a whisper just in case she had misjudged where her parents were.
“Megan?”
“Yeah. Listen. Watch for my parents to leave tonight for their weekly date. After they’ve gone, head over to Unit #143. I’m going to wait around for a little in case they call, after they do, I’ll sneak over for a little bit.”
“Are you sure?” Donnie didn’t like the idea of taking this risk when it would be less than a week until Megan would be allowed to leave the house again.
Megan thought of the black notebook, the touch of Donnie’s hands against her body, and the feel of his lips against hers. “Hell yeah, I’m sure.”
He wanted to see her just as bad and didn’t argue any more than he already had. “See you there.”
Later that night, he waited for the Priddys’ headlights to vanish down the street and he began his trek to Parkside Storage.
Donnie never wore a watch and Unit #143 didn’t have a clock. Foolishly, he didn’t bring anything to write on or to read. He played solitaire for a while, but became bored. He began to think that Megan had bagged the idea of meeting him. Maybe she decided that it wasn’t worth the risk or maybe when her parents called, they said they would be home soon and she didn’t have enough time to sneak out.
After an undeterminable amount of time, Donnie allowed himself to feel disappointed that Megan wasn’t coming. He hadn’t anticipated seeing her until Monday at school, but all day long, the excitement of meeting with her earlier than that had been building. Now all he had was the chalk outline of her. There she was – a perfect outline of her body. He could picture her standing there. Donnie thought of the previous Saturday when they were alone in the field and fell asleep looking at the stars. Both left wanting more. Donnie’s imagination put forth scenarios that aroused him.
Since he was alone, Donnie decided to do something that always ended with an intense moment of pleasure and incredible relaxation. He pulled his jeans and underwear down around his ankles. Observing the chalk outline of his girlfriend and recalling all the sensations of the previous Saturday with her, Donnie drifted into an unconscious focus as he mindlessly stroked himself. He was in no hurry. Getting there was half the fun.
The door flung up with Megan saying, “Sorry it took so long for… Whoa.”
Donnie blew out the candles on the card table before he did anything else. This way when he pulled up his jeans, he would be hidden in the shadows.
“Hold it just a sec,” she told him before he had the jeans past his knees.
Megan had a pretty good idea of what was going on in the storage unit when she arrived. She would have thought that something like that would have grossed her out, but it really wasn’t that big of a deal. All boys did it, didn’t they? At least most of them. Maybe even some girls.
“Um, Megan…,” Donnie tried to sound casual, but he couldn’t pull it off. He didn’t like waiting around for her permission to finish getting dressed.
“Don’t be embarrassed or anything like that,” Megan told him. “I’m not going to make fun of you. It’s a natural thing, I think.” She was curious. She wanted to ask him all kinds of questions about it, but simplified it into one, “Were you thinking of me?”
Donnie cleared his throat. “Yeah, I was. OK?”
“Oh, Donnie. I’m flattered.”
“Great. Can I pull my pants up now?”
“K,” she said. “But from now on, that’s your chair.”
TWENTY-THREE
The Wednesday after Donnie was caught doing his thing in the storage unit, Megan was released from the halfway house. The time between lunch and the final bell seemed abnormally long. They couldn’t wait to walk to Unit #143 after school.
Duplicating the routine from their sophomore year, Donnie stopped at Swifts for drinks and snacks while Megan went on ahead to start her homework.
When Donnie showed up, Megan played on the incident of that weekend by asking, “Can you find a way to entertain yourself until I’m done?”
His face registered disapproval of her joke, but she knew that he wasn’t upset by it. He removed a thin book from his backpack and read.
Megan took nearly an hour of frustrations out on her pen cap until she completed her math homework. She slammed her book closed and asked Donnie what he was reading.
“Jonathan Livingston Seagull,” he replied.
“For school?” Megan had the same literature teacher as Donnie and temporarily became nervous that she had missed an assignment.
“No.”
“Don’t tell me it’s about seagulls.”
“I won’t.”
“Well, is it?”
“Yup.”
“What’s with you and books about animals?”
Donnie grinned at her rhetorical question.
“Is it good?” she asked.
“Yup.”
“Will you read it out loud to me?” Megan had gotten used to listening to audio books that summer.
“Nope.”
“It looks short,” she said, trying to change his mind.
“Yeah.” He had nearly finished it while waiting for her to complete her homework. “It wouldn’t take you long to read on your own.”
“What does he do?”
“Who?”
“Jonathan.”
Donnie considered this for a moment. He read simply for the enjoyment of it. He seldom analyzed what he was reading so it took him a good thirty seconds to come up with somethi
ng. “He doesn’t accept being like the other seagulls. They’re happy with just flying around for food. Jonathan is about becoming better at flying. He practices all the time. He’s sort of a hero except the flock eventually banishes him because they don’t get it.”
Megan took the book from his hands. She looked at the cover and examined a few of the photographs inside. “How’s he a hero, then, if no one wants him around?”
Donnie never sounded surer of himself. “Because he strives to achieve something more out of life even when others find his ambition threatening. He presses on even though his choice isn’t popular. He doesn’t give in. He’s more of a hero because he’s not admired by those around him.”
She twirled some of her peachy hair around a finger. “That’s some seagull.”
He tossed the book in his backpack. “Yeah.”
“Double solitaire?”
“Sure.”
They each shuffled a deck of cards and dealt.
“Hold on a sec,” Donnie said. He walked over to turn up the radio. “I dig this song.”
“Really?” It was Donnie’s active interest in music that surprised Megan, not that he liked a particular song. He had never turned up the radio before.
“Yeah. There’s just those two guitar chords that bounce back and forth until they get to the chorus and then they add a third.”
Megan stopped mid-game and looked at him.
Donnie didn’t take notice. “The lyrics are kind of cool, too.” He looked over at her cards. “If you play that three of clubs, I can play my four.”
“Since when did you become a music connoisseur?” Megan wanted to know.
“Since you started making me listen to the radio nonstop.”
“Forget this.” Megan scrambled the cards up on the table. She grabbed Donnie’s tambourine and rattled it. “Let’s rock!” She beat the instrument to the bass drum of the song and danced, wiggling her butt to the ground and back up.
Donnie jumped up, flung his front leg forward, swung it behind him, spun around, and went into a disco groove.
When the song was over and they settled back down, Donnie and Megan watched the sun set behind the row of storage units across from theirs.
The sun created unique colors as it came closer to the horizon.
“Funny, how it looks like the sun is setting when really it’s us rotating,” Donnie said.
“I never really thought about it. You’re right.” She reached out and took his hand. “Look how cool the sky is over there.”
Donnie followed her eyes to a point in the sky where the lowering sun shot rays of light through a thin grouping of clouds. Against the darkening blue skies, those clouds were an iridescent, fiery pink.
“That’s far out,” he agreed.
They watched without saying anything until the sun was gone, the sky was dark, and it was time to walk home.
Megan had to work from six until close on the first Saturday in September. Donnie knocked off work a little after four to meet her at Unit #143 for an hour or so before her shift started.
“Happy birthday!” Megan said when he pulled the door up. She wore her Friendly’s uniform and her hair swung side-to-side in a ponytail.
Donnie set his backpack down on a chair and walked over to her. He spoke in a low voice as if he were trying to keep from embarrassing her in front of a large crowd even though the two of them were alone in the storage unit. “My birthday’s not until next month.”
She whispered back, “I know,” and winked.
“Then why’d you get me a gift?”
“Who said anything about a gift?”
“It’s giant,” Donnie said pointing to the large gift-wrapped item in her hand. “It’s nearly as big as you.”
“You’re right. This is your birthday gift.”
“Why’s it in Christmas wrapping paper?”
“All I had.”
Donnie took a root beer from the cooler.
“My mom dragged me to some charity flea market on Sunday,” Megan explained. “I saw this and thought of you. Why wait until the end of October for your birthday? I figure, give it to you now so you can start using it.” She held it out in front of her, “Guess what it is.”
With the gift wrap tightly wrapped around it, it was obviously shaped like a guitar.
Donnie shook his head back and forth, “No idea.”
Megan tilted her head to one side. “I think you’re lying.”
“Well, I might have one guess.”
“Go for it.”
“A blender.”
“Close!” She thrust it against his chest. “Open it and see.”
Donnie ripped off the holiday paper and, sure enough, it was an acoustic guitar.
“How groovalicious is that?” Megan said.
“I don’t know how to play guitar.”
“No shit. How could you if you never owned one?”
He looked it over. He didn’t know the first thing about guitars, but it looked to be in good condition. There was only one problem. “No strings?” he asked.
From the back pocket of her black work pants, she whipped out a small package of strings and tossed it at him. “I’ve got a guitar pick in my other back pocket, but I’ll let you get that out yourself.”
Donnie pulled the garage door down. He turned around to face her.
Her smile was mischievous. “I believe, Donnie, that it is at the very bottom of my pocket. You’ll have to dig deep for it.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Leaves were falling and it was too chilly to go outside without a jacket.
Inside Unit #143, Donnie sat with his guitar. It took him a week or two just to figure out how to properly tune it, but once he did, he immediately began to learn the basics. He was concerned that his practicing disturbed Megan’s studying.
“I like listening to you play,” she’d tell him.
“It’s hardly playing.”
“You’re learning. I can tell that you’re improving.”
He’d continue to make odd twangy noises with his instrument while Megan went on studying.
She was right, though. His playing had improved. Donnie could pick a string of notes to a familiar tune and he had a half dozen chords mastered. They spent a lot of time in the storage unit and Donnie played a little every time they were there. He wasn’t to the point where he could play a whole song, but it wouldn’t be long.
Megan sat with the Sunday ads spread out in front of her. Her goal was to find a mattress they could afford.
The chairs that came with the card table were still good for homework and playing cards, but they were no longer comfortable for extended hours of use. A mattress would be good for reading or sleeping. It could be used to rest on before or after a work shift. It would serve as a couch when they listened to audio books. A mattress would be much more relaxing than slouching in the chairs for most of their storage unit activities.
They looked forward to lounging on it together. Hugs were nice, but not possible to sustain for a long time if they were standing or sitting. On the bed, though, they could hold each other forever. Donnie and Megan wanted to be able to replicate their positions on the night they took the fieldtrip to stargaze.
“Here’s the one we want,” Megan said, tapping down on an ad. “It’s on sale.”
“Where is it?” Donnie asked without looking up from the positioning of his fingers on the guitar.
“Some store near the mall. The price is boffo and I bet it’s so comfortable. Look at it,” she held up the ad.
It just looked like another mattress to Donnie. “Sure.” He leaned his guitar against the wall and turned on the radio. He asked, “Megan, when we get it, do you think that we’ll… you know?”
“What’s ‘you know’?”
“You know what ‘you know’ is.”
She played dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Donnie Betts.”
“You know.”
“Eat ice cream on it?”
“No.”
“Jump up and down on it?”
“No.”
“Lean it against the wall and crawl underneath like we’re camping.”
“No. You know.”
Megan shrugged her shoulders, shook her head, and said with the slightest grin sneaking through, “Sorry, Donnie, don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Donnie knew that she knew but just wanted to hear him say it. He gave in and spoke the one word, “Sex.”
“Ohhhhhh. That ‘you know’.”
“Yeah, that ‘you know.’ Now you know, so now you have to answer my question.”
Megan thought that all high school boys wanted to “you know” and it wasn’t any secret that Donnie liked her big time. So, if he was crushing on her in a major way and a high school boy, it was logical to conclude that he wanted to “you know” with her. She was pretty sure of it.
Megan had an answer to his question but wanted to leave the window open just in case she changed her mind, so she offered him a “Maybe.”
Donnie went back to his guitar.
“K,” Megan said, looking again at the advertisement. “The sale ends Saturday. How are we going to get it?”
“We can’t. You’re not allowed to drive.” A mattress wouldn’t fit in Donnie’s car. They needed Megan’s mini-van.
“But the sale is going to end.”
“So what? We’d have enough for it even if it wasn’t on sale.”
“I don’t want to wait. Do you?”
“No, but what’re we gonna do? Hijack your family’s van?”
Her face lit up. She rushed to the opposite side of the table and gave Donnie a big smooch on the cheek. “That’s a wonderful idea! I’ll wait until they go out Saturday night and take the van to get it.”
“That’s a horrible idea.”
“Do you always follow all the rules, Donnie?”
“If you get caught, how are you going to explain a mattress in your car? There’s gotta be another way.”
“K,” she said, her lips curving up at the corners. She placed her hands on her hips. “I want this mattress here by the end of the week. If you can come up with another way, then we’ll do that. If not, I’m hijacking the van. And don’t tell me that it can wait because it can’t.”
Writing on the Wall Page 12
