Don't You Remember

by Lana Davison

“You looked really happy together.”

  “She’s a fun girl, I like her.”

  “Are you going out?”

  “You mean officially?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you mean did I ask her to go out with me, then no, I didn’t ask her officially.”

  “But do you want to?”

  “Yeah, sure, why not?” he said casually as if he hadn’t given it a lot of thought. “What do you want to do tonight?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Hang out, I guess. You? Are you thinking lake?”

  “That’s fine, I don’t mind.”

  “What about Samantha, will she want to come?”

  “I don’t know, I can call her when I get home.”

  “OK. Whatever,” I shrugged, not wanting Johnny to know I was jealous. How could I continue to be friends with him without telling him how I really felt?

  “I don’t have to ask her, kiddo,” he said looking down at my face and wondering what the matter was.

  “It’s up to you,” I said dismissively. “Whatever you think is best.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Johnny and I parted ways when we reached home. Johnny lives in a state owned house directly next door to mine. Our houses are almost identical, except that they are mirror images of each other, meaning my bedroom window faced Johnny’s. We’ve been known to have the odd conversation perched by our windows or even sitting on the window frames.

  I opened the front door with my house key and walked into my dark home, straight into the horseshoe shaped kitchen, with cheap wooden panelled cupboards, a white cooker with oven and white refrigerator, often half empty. The kitchen window is embellished with doily-looking net curtains for privacy, but we don’t get very many visitors here, only neighbors or some church people trying to sell you the promise of salvation by joining their congregation. I noticed the sink full of glasses and plates that need washing. I ran some soapy water and washed the dishes and kitchen worktop.

  I could see my parents sitting outside on the back porch drinking and smoking as usual. They were playing cards with Johnny’s mum and her boyfriend and haven’t even noticed I’m home. I walked to the slide door between the living room and the porch and opened it.

  “Hi, everyone,” I said being polite and trying not to judge what I knew would be another big drinking debacle.

  “Hello, Jen, how are you, love?” Johnny’s mum, Pam asked.

  “Good thanks, Pam.”

  “Sweetheart, can you bring us another ashtray?” my mother asked.

  I walked back to the kitchen and returned with a clean ashtray. “Do you want anything else?” I asked.

  “No, thanks,” my father said smiling at me then patting my arm.

  No one bothered to ask how my day was, what I did at school, had I gone to work, had I eaten dinner? As usual I am left to fend for myself. I walked back to the kitchen and looked in the food cupboard and noticed a loaf of bread, a few cans of tomatoes, bake beans and some tinned soup. I took two slices of bread and toasted them and warmed up some baked beans in a small pot and poured them over my toast. I took my dinner to my room.

  My bedroom is small, with cheap synthetic cream colored carpet that needs updating. I have mismatched furniture, a wardrobe, desk, tallboy drawers, and a single bed. My bedding is plain blue with a croquet multi colored throw given to me by my grandmother when I was a baby. There is only one window in my bedroom, the one facing Johnny’s window. My curtains are cheap looking, made of thin blue fabric with a basic no frills net curtain underneath. My wooden panelled walls are filled with posters of Bon Jovi, U2 and Depeche Mode, and on my desk there is a cassette deck with lots of compilation tapes stacked one on top of the other. I made all of them sitting at my desk or on my bed for several hours listening to the Top 40 hits on the radio every Sunday afternoon, ready and waiting with my fingers placed on the play and record buttons at the same time. It is still one of my favorite things to do. Music takes me away from my world and into a completely different one; a world I hoped I could one day live in.

  I sat at my desk and fiddled with my tape collection while I ate my dinner. What did I want to listen to? I ran my index finger down the pile of tapes trying to decide and eventually elect to switch the radio on. I finished my dinner and took my plate back to the kitchen, then returned to my room closing the door behind me and flopped onto my bed listening to my favorite tunes. I closed my eyes and let the music take me away.

  After a couple of songs, I sat up on my bed so that I could take my shoes off and looked up, straight ahead facing my window right into Johnny’s room. I watched him as he took off his shirt, displaying every curve and contour on his back. My teeth bit down on my bottom lip in the way that I do when I like something I see; like an over flowing chocolate Sunday made with good quality ice cream, dripping with a large serving of melted chocolate, generously laced with tiny nuts. He turned back and sat on his bed, looking out of the window. I hid for a moment, bobbing down, worried that he would see me despite the net curtains. I came back to my seated position on the bed and watched him as he played his guitar. He looked directly over in my direction as if he could see me. I gasped but he wasn’t looking at me, he was in deep thought, picking up a pen and writing something on a piece of paper. Johnny was writing his music again. He fiddled with the cords on his guitar and strummed it a few times then put his guitar to one side. I could see every taut muscle on his moulded chest, shaped arms and shoulders. I took a deep breath as if I was in distress from wanting something so much I’m not sure I could have. I felt somewhat foolish trying to understand my feelings; realizing this must be what the analogy ‘heart rule’s the head’ means. I was in unknown territory. I needed to think about how long I could keep my feelings to myself. How long would it be before I told him the truth? Given the way I felt right now, I’m not sure I could hold out much longer. He made me feel alive, more alive than ever.

  I lay back on my bed, closed my eyes and thought about kissing Johnny. What would that be like? I imagined kissing him and him kissing me back and wondered if I should just go for it. I wondered if he thought about me in the same way. My desire for him became a necessity I had never experienced before – as essential as the blood flowing through my veins. I now knew I not only wanted him, I needed him.

  “Jen? Hey, Jen, are you there?” Johnny shouted to me from his window.

  I snapped out of my fantasy, sat up and reached out towards the window pulling back the net curtain so he could see me. “I’m here,” I smiled. I felt like I was blushing, as if he might realize I had just fantasized about him.

  “Meet you out the front.”

  “OK,” I said grabbing my shoes and fastening them to my feet.

  I didn’t bother to say goodbye to my folks, or to Johnny’s mum and her partner for that matter, they wouldn’t even notice I’d left. The thing with my parents is they completely trust me; I am responsible and never ask for anything, like a dream lodger that lives in the same house but whom you never see, one that pays their way and asks for nothing in return.

  I turned my tape deck off, collected my house keys and popped them into my back pocket. I ran to the front door, quietly opened it and locked up. I could see Johnny waiting for me and jumped towards him from the porch step to the pavement. “Here I am,” I said playfully, putting my arms out to the side to reveal that I was actually there.

  He smiled at me and turned to walk toward Raven Lake.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The days and weeks rolled into one, each day felt the same as the next with one exception, my growing feelings for Johnny. Johnny was attractive to me now, in the same way that someone who you have never thought of as good-looking suddenly becomes appealing because of their superb personality, I say this because Johnny and I have always had a best friend, platonic relationship, some might even say a bit like a brother and sister relationship but that would be wrong, because we don’t fight like brothers and sisters, we get on perfectly, like best
mates.

  At school I went about my business, doing my normal lessons, going to the library after I had eaten my lunch so that I could complete my homework, assignments, essays or projects that required the use of a variety of books for research. I saw Johnny everywhere at school, often with Samantha Bison. They were marked down as being the most popular and beautiful couple at school.

  On a few occasions, Johnny invited Samantha to join our previously earmarked ‘Johnny and Jen’ time. That meant the three of us often went to the lake late at night but I opted to leave early when Samantha was there. Johnny didn’t like me walking home on my own, so I began to choose to not go at all, in order not to cramp their style. I didn’t want to feel like a tag along, which is ultimately how I felt even though Johnny would tell me not to think like that. Samantha tried her best to be a good friend to me in the same way any girlfriend tries to get on with their boyfriend’s family. I was polite and kind but I didn’t really want to be friends with her, I wanted her to leave me alone. Sometimes I found her patronizing in the way that she treated me like Johnny’s kid sister and not as her equal. I considered myself more than that; I was so much more independent which, in itself, offers a whole different kind of maturity and responsibility.

  I continued to work two afternoons a week, I had my singing lessons, and I worked hard at school. My grades were the best they had ever been, probably because I was spending more time in my bedroom doing homework and less time with Johnny.

  In the morning, as always, I saw Johnny. We met outside the front porch and he would usually drive me to school, which was on his way. In the last few weeks, however, I had decided I needed to distance myself from Johnny for two reasons: he was leaving Rushton in seven months time and he was in a relationship with someone else. Every time I saw him I wanted to tell him how I felt but I was too afraid of rejection and too afraid of losing my best friend. I decided just to distance myself, slowly and in a casual way, so that perhaps he wouldn’t notice.

  I took it upon myself to start riding my second-hand pushbike again. I bought it about eighteen months ago but hadn’t been riding for the best part of a year. I guess I thought I was growing out of it, and it was easier to jump in the car with Johnny.

  A couple of weeks ago, I met Johnny outside the front of the house. “I’m going to start riding again,” I said indifferently to Johnny as I pushed my bike along beside me.

  “Why? You’ve always got a seat in my car,” Johnny replied casually, looking fit and handsome in the morning sun. It took all my will power to actually get on my bike and ride away. After all, he had done nothing wrong.

  “Yeah, I know, and thank you, but I’m trying to get myself fit.”

  “You are fit,” he said raising his eyebrows.

  “More fit. I’m getting my heart rate up, it’s just a little challenge I have with myself,” I replied putting my hand up horizontally over my eyes and using it to shield the sun from my eyes.

  “OK, then, but the offer’s always there.”

  “Thanks,” I said fiddling through my bag trying to find my sunglasses. Once I found them I put one leg over my bike and began to pedal, waving to Johnny as I rode past him.

  For two weeks I rode to school, to work and then home. This week I even decided to change another part of my weekly routine and not drop off at The Boxer to see Johnny. I thought if he asked me why I hadn’t come in, I would simply reply ‘because I’m on my bike.’ It felt odd not being in my usual routine and I began to miss his company.

  In order to further distance myself I began to close my bedroom curtains, meaning that he couldn’t ask me to meet up outside. I wasn’t doing myself any great favors though. Instead of meeting up with Johnny, I would go home and stay out of my parent’s way, out of harm’s way. I’d make myself an easy, light dinner and stay in my room for the rest of the night, listening to my parents watching TV with the volume loud, laughing, drinking and generally talking a lot of rubbish. That was their existence: so predictable, so useless, so wasteful, so boring.

  I began to feel alone in the world but reminded myself that I would have felt this way in just over half a years time when Johnny was due to leave Rushton, so I reasoned there was nothing wrong with preparing myself for the inevitable, anyway.

  Johnny asked me one morning if everything was all right. He said he missed seeing me all week and that not having me around felt like he had lost his right arm. I guess my idea of trying to slip away from his life quietly and unnoticed hadn’t worked. Strangely I was hopeful, grateful even, because he felt the loss of me as much as I did him. I was miserable and lonely.

  As the weekend approached, I wondered how I would spend it. Between school and work I would always spend my time with Johnny, even sometimes hanging out in his car reading a book while he went to work. On weekends we always listened to music, deciphering what we listened to on the radio, discussing the composition, the commercial attraction and the musicians and bands. Then Johnny would play some music, showing me a new song he had written in the week, or perfecting one he had already written.

  I asked Johnny if he had played his music for Samantha but he said she didn’t like to talk about music like I did. He liked to hear my opinion and critique of his songs and it helped that we both liked the same type of music anyway. During our sessions I would often sing the songs he wrote while he mastered the guitar and got the beat and rhythm right. Johnny said Samantha’s voice wasn’t up to the job of singing, and she got frustrated at the length of time he spent perfecting his songs. This was obviously a big difference between Samantha and me. Johnny and I were just two kids belting out our music and, because we had been doing it for so long, we had no reservations, nothing to lose, nothing to hide. It became clear that our music sessions meant as much to Johnny as they did to me.

  It was the last Sunday of the month and I had managed to avoid a one on one meeting with Johnny all week, leaving the house early on Saturday and Sunday and coming home late, so that I could get used to my new life, one without my best friend and confidant. I spent Saturday at the library until late, then sneaked back home buried myself in my bedroom, closed the curtains, switched my bedside lamp on and read until I fell asleep. On Sunday, I went for a long bike ride and when I got home Johnny was out. I reasoned that our relationship was better this way – no ties meant no tears in the end, but I was saddened by my loss, the loss that I had enforced just so that I could save myself from being hurt later.

  As night approached, I heard the roar of Johnny’s car and knew he had arrived home. I thought about drawing my curtains so that I could avoid him but decided I owed it to Johnny to tell him that I was preparing myself for his departure and that distancing myself would make it easier for me. I left my curtains opened, ready for an interrogation from him about my recent behavior. He would know I was at home and awake and if he wanted to see me he could and, if not, then well, that would be fine too… But it wouldn’t be fine; it would be devastating if he agreed with my distancing philosophy. What game was I playing?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was night-time and I was in my bedroom packing my bag for school the next day. My bedroom curtains and window were open and I caught Johnny at his window trying to get my attention. He mouthed the words “meet you outside” to me. I nodded in agreement and gave him the thumbs up. Neither of us had to sneak out, our parents didn’t care where we were; they were all ready in bed by now, fast asleep after a full session with the drink that probably started in the early afternoon.

  We met up outside. I was still in my jeans and t-shirt but had grabbed a jacket in case I needed it. I jumped from my front porch to the pavement, and Johnny jumped sideways over the porch rails like an expert using only one arm for support.

  “Jen, is everything OK?” Johnny asked puzzled by my behavior over the past couple of week, “I haven’t seen you all weekend. I haven’t seen you much at all this week. Are you all right?”

  “I’ve been tired, but I’m all right.”

>   We walked along the path towards Raven Lake nearby. Raven Lake was beautiful with a clear glistening lake that always shimmered in the evening against the backdrop of the moon. Johnny and I had been coming here for a few years now, mostly at night, mostly in the dark; despite its reputation it was a safe place for us to hang out. Having said that, I would never go to Raven Lake alone, I would always go with Johnny as he had this way of making me feel safe.

  Ten minutes later we arrived. I found a good place near a big old willow tree that sheltered a small portion of the lake. The tree was so big its branches reached the ground, sheltering us like a thatched hatch. We walked under the draping leafy branches that swayed gently in the twilight breeze and I took my jacket off and used it as a cushion to sit on. Johnny followed suit.

  We talked about school and Johnny's big plans. I couldn’t find the right time to tell Johnny that I thought it was a good idea for us to start separating ourselves. The words would not surface and I wondered for a moment if I couldn’t say it or rather if I shouldn’t say it? Perhaps this whole distancing myself from him business was completely stupid, selfish and childish. Instead, I let myself enjoy my time with Johnny, laughing and talking the way we always had. Perhaps instead of distancing myself I should tell him that I have developed feelings for him. I think deep down I knew all along this was what I was running away from.

  In the darkness of the night I looked up at the stars and the full moon in the sky, and thought how pretty the setting was. I thought this might be a perfect time to ask Johnny if he would ever see me as more than a friend, but I couldn’t get the words out. I became annoyed with myself for procrastinating and using delay tactics when I needed to know how he felt.

  I don’t know exactly what happened next but it was as if my body did the talking. Out of the blue I turned around and kissed him, moving my body tight onto his, like a panther that pounces unexpectedly onto its prey. I kissed his lips for a few seconds, long and hard and waited for his response. Nothing. I think he might have been in shock. Nonetheless I was aware he didn’t push me away, thus giving me more confidence. I pushed my body on top of his; my body weight pressed him down so that he laid flat on top of his jacket. I kissed him again. Still no words were said. He let me take control and I went for it, seeing it as a green light to proceed. I pressed my breasts up against his chest, my lips facing his, my eyes on him the whole time. I could feel my heart racing, I was about to do something that felt so right, but I had never done before. I half expected him to throw me off him at any point and say he didn't want me like that, but he didn't. Instead he did exactly what I wanted, he touched my cheek gently and kissed me back, pulling me toward him gently. Our lips kissed passionately, moving in unison, unable to stop, wanting the moment to last forever. We worked our bodies perfectly together without needing any rehearsal, still kissing, not daring to stop, we couldn't stop, we didn't risk stopping, if felt too good, too right. We couldn’t see or hear anything else going on around us, at this precise moment we were only aware of each other’s body.