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    Rumble

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      as I could have expected. Bet

      the first primitives to develop

      language enough to express

      their feelings ended up spit-roasted.

      Plan B. Caveman up and call, not

      text, Hayden. She answers immediately,

      as if expecting the communication.

      She is. What did you say to my dad?

      He told me I have to break up

      with you to save my eternal soul.

      “Already? It’s only been, like, sixty

      seconds since your front door attacked

      my face. And mostly what I did was ask

      why he doesn’t like me, then I listed

      all my best points. Including the fact

      I’m not gay, by the way. That really

      seemed to impress him.” Too far?

      You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t, Matt.

      Guess that means too far.

      But How Far Is Too Far?

      Have I crossed enough lines in the past

      twenty-four hours to have thrown away

      everything I struggled to build and maintain

      with Hayden, despite the odds? “So, does

      that mean you’re breaking up with me?”

      If she is, I’m certain it has little to do

      with any edict from her father. Oh,

      Matt, I just don’t know. I still love

      you so much, but it seems like you’ve

      changed, and it makes me wonder why.

      What? “You think I’ve changed? It isn’t

      me who’s different, Hayden. It’s . . .” Stop.

      Don’t do this now. “Please. Let’s talk face

      to face. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

      Please don’t say no. Please don’t say no.

      If she does, we’re totally through, and I’m

      not ready for that. Apparently, she isn’t,

      either. I’m at Joce’s. Give me an hour.

      Fifty-Nine Minutes Later

      I pull to the curb in front of Jocelyn’s house,

      wait the extra sixty seconds so Hayden can’t say

      I tried to rush her, then give two beeps. She’s out

      the door immediately. She was ready for me, and

      the rare winter sun burnishes the crown of her hair,

      and I fall in love all over again. I can’t lose her.

      I pop out of the cab, haul around to the far side

      of the truck, and open the passenger door. The closer

      she gets, the more I want to kiss her. But should

      I do it here? Now? Will it embarrass her? Should

      I wait, or will she freak out if I do? Jesus, when did

      we, she and I, become such a complex puzzle?

      When she reaches me, I have no clue if I’m

      doing the right thing when I hold out my hand,

      a simple request that she honors. I pull her

      as close as we can get without actually touching,

      plunge into the smoke of her eyes. “I love you.

      Damn if I can figure out if that’s enough for you,

      but it’s the absolute truth. I don’t want to say

      too much, or too little. I don’t want you to feel

      offended if I ask if I can kiss you, because I’m

      not sure what you want anymore, and it’s scaring

      the hell out of me, Hayden.” I can’t read a single

      signal in the smoke, so I just ask, “Can I kiss you?”

      I Hope She Answers

      The way I know

      she would

      have a year ago,

      or six months

      ago, or even just

      a few weeks

      ago—with a tender

      brush of her lips

      against mine,

      flint to fire the kiss

      that could bring light

      to the blackest corner

      of the darkest room.

      I search her eyes,

      wait for that response,

      or something close

      to it. Instead, she says,

      Not here.

      I step back, offer to

      help her up into the truck,

      and as I do, notice

      the black leather jacket

      on the console between

      the passenger seat and the driver’s.

      No Way Around

      The explanation that must come,

      still I hurry to secure both doors,

      start the engine, and take off down

      the road, so I’ll at least have the chance

      to give it. I keep asking what’s wrong

      with everyone else, when maybe

      the real question is what the hell’s up

      with me? Was this some subconcious

      stab at confession? Hayden picks up

      the jacket, sniffs the signature perfume

      permeating the leather. Alexa. Jocelyn

      said she saw the two of you together

      yesterday. Don’t tell me. You gave her

      a ride home, and it got a little hot in here.

      I was going to offer the ride home

      excuse, minus the rest. But now I’d

      better come closer to the truth, minus

      any mention of getting hot. “Not exactly.

      I’m sorry, but I needed someone to talk

      to. About you. We talked about you.

      I’m just trying to figure you out, Hayd.”

      I Don’t See Hayden’s Temper Often

      But it swells to bursting now.

      Figure me out? With Alexa?

      What does she know about me?

      Why didn’t you talk to me instead?

      I couldn’t have asked for a better

      opening. “I’ve tried to talk to you,

      Hayden, begged you to stop closing

      yourself off from me. Alexa knows

      what it’s like to lose you. I’m doing

      everything in my power to make sure

      she and I won’t have that in common.”

      That quiets her for a second or two.

      I keep driving away from town.

      Away from her father, her friends,

      her minister, out into the countryside.

      She watches the landscape shimmer

      beyond the window. Finally, a whisper

      escapes her mouth. What did she say?

      I have to stop and think about it.

      Not sure I should bring up the part

      about the reason Alexa and Hayden

      are no longer friends, and that’s really

      about all she said before . . . Better make

      up something. “She said you hurt her.”

      Hayden Sniffles

      Is she crying? Oh man.

      Not that. I hate it when she cries,

      hate it more when I’m the reason.

      I hurt Alexa? What about me?

      She quit being my friend because

      she was jealous you liked me better.

      Slight distortion of the facts

      there, girl. Not that I’d say so.

      “That’s not exactly how she put it.”

      Oh really? she hisses. Tell me

      how, exactly, she did put it, then?

      I pull off the main road, onto

      a gravel logging track, but don’t

      dare go far. The woods-shadowed

      mud would swallow us whole.

      I turn to Hayden, whose entire face

      is puffy from tears. “Please don’t cry.”

      I reach for her hand, afraid

      she won’t give it, but she does,

      and I kiss each finger, one by one,

      on the very tip. “Alexa doesn’t matter.”

      Pretty sure that’s not one hundred

      percent true in the larger sense,

      but in the context of this conversation,

      it’s valid. “Look. Until a few weeks

      ago, you and I were solid, or at least


      that’s what I believed. Something

      has changed, and it isn’t me.” I take

      her other hand, kiss those fingers,

      too. And it’s only the tiniest interior

      voice whispering that I’d never have

      to go to such lengths to prove my love

      for Alexa. If I did love Alexa, that is.

      I guess I have changed, she admits,

      but not in a bad way. I’m growing

      deeper in my relationship with the Lord,

      is all. I love you, Matt, I do. But spiritual

      love is more important than love born

      of the flesh, and that’s what we have.

      She’s Trading Me In

      For Jesus. Can’t imagine whose

      idea that was. “I thought all love

      came from God. What happened

      to that? Don’t tell me. Judah,

      who’s given you a whole new

      understanding of the scriptures.”

      That’s right. Her eyes fill with

      something very much resembling

      adoration. But for the Lord, or for

      his earthly messenger? Remember

      the last argument you and I had,

      about why you never tried—

      “Of course I remember. To be

      clear, however, my only problem

      was about your ‘discussing’ my

      probable homosexual predisposition

      with your friends and pastor.”

      I know, Matt. And when I told Judah

      what happened he said to put myself

      in your shoes, as Jesus would have

      us do. And then he laid the blame

      totally on me. He said I was at fault

      for believing my worth was determined

      by the artificial standards of man.

      Insane

      The man.

      The message.

      The way she believes every word.

      The control that gives him.

      But I don’t dare argue.

      Mustn’t contradict.

      I can’t fight him long distance,

      even though I know those

      artificial standards

      he expects her to eschew

      are his own.

      He is a two-faced prick,

      and the only way to expose

      the one he so skillfully hides

      is on his home turf.

      “You’re not to blame

      for anything, Hayden, except

      wanting to feel valued. I try very

      hard to do that for you, but obviously

      sometimes I fail. Still, I’m glad

      he’s making you look at things

      through a wider lens. In fact, I’m impressed.

      Do you have a youth group meeting

      on Friday? I’d really like to come.”

      Unconvinced

      Doesn’t quite cover

      her expression. Skeptical

      isn’t strong enough, either.

      She studies me, as if looking

      for my own hidden face,

      or the alien crawling beneath

      my skin, seeking egress.

      Why?

      “Why do I want to go? Why not?”

      Matt, you’ve never shown one

      tiny bit of desire to go to church

      with me, let alone youth group.

      So, why? What do you want?

      “Wow. What a cynic.

      Okay, Hayden, I want

      to see your Judah

      in action; to try and wrap

      my brain around the way

      you feel about him;

      to comprehend the power

      of his message. I want

      to understand.”

      Not Exactly a Lie

      Though I hope she misses

      the nuanced meaning,

      and she seems to.

      I’ll ask Judah, okay?

      “Okay, but it’s his job

      to win me over, right?”

      Go ahead, dude. Convert

      me and I’ll shave my head

      and relocate to Tibet.

      Finally, a smile. I guess it is.

      “So, we’re okay, then?”

      Can’t believe I pulled it off.

      “Is it okay for me to kiss you

      now?” Please, please, please

      don’t say no. “No one will

      see but that bear over there.”

      She jumps. But there’s no

      bear. Matt! That was mean.

      “Allow me to make it up to you.”

      Unpredictably, she softens, lukewarm,

      into my arms. Let the kissing begin.

      This Kiss

      Is a shallow winter

      pool—watery,

      much too cool.

      It makes me shiver,

      and not in a good way.

      I try to dive deeper,

      find the hot spring

      I suspect lies hidden

      somewhere

      inside this girl I love.

      I give it my best shot,

      but she keeps reeling

      me back

      to the surface,

      where the scent

      of citrus-perfumed

      leather

      is overwhelming.

      Sunday Morning

      I wake earlier than usual,

      no doubt due to the sunshine

      flooding the eastern window.

      A second sunny day in a row

      demands a celebration. But first,

      I text Hayden. DON’T FORGET

      TO ASK JUDAH IF I’M WELCOME

      ON FRIDAY. I PROMISE TO BE

      THE PERFECT GENTLEMAN.

      What I don’t promise is that

      I won’t change my mind.

      When I open my bedroom door,

      breakfast aromas smack me

      square in the nose. Mom’s still

      gone, so it’s Dad who’s claimed

      the kitchen. Weirdly, he’s wide

      awake and smiling around his eggs.

      Enjoying the silver morning, too,

      I guess, and some strange air

      of nostalgia engulfs me. “I’m going

      to the range today. Want to come

      along?” Holy hell. Did I just invite

      my dad to go shooting with me?

      Holy Hell

      Is what his body language

      screams, too. And in the span

      of about thirty seconds, his

      expression segues from surprise

      to pleasure to disappointment.

      Seriously, thanks for asking, son.

      But I’m afraid I’ve got plans.

      The tone of his voice is odd.

      Husky. And I understand

      immediately that his plans

      do not involve his buddies.

      He’s doing something with her.

      But next time, give me a little

      warning. I’ve been meaning to

      hang out with Jessie. The two

      of us aren’t getting any younger.

      And Luke will never grow older.

      “So you know, I’d give my left nut

      to spend one more day with my brother.

      Next time you should come along.”

      I Retreat

      Before he can respond, exit the house

      without turning around. When I start

      the truck, I notice the leather jacket

      on the backseat. Damn. I forgot to drop

      it off. Oh well. Lex’s house is on the way,

      so it will be a quick stop. I’m almost there

      when I notice the little tremor of nerves.

      What does she think of me? What does

      she expect of me? And a bigger question—

      what do I expect of her now? I glance down

      at the speedometer, which holds steady

      at thirty-eight in a fifty mph zone.

      My subconscious, reminding me I really


      don’t want this meeting, hope it won’t turn

      into a confrontation, or even worse,

      a tear-fest. I hate when women cry.

      Only Fitting, Then

      That Alexa answers the door,

      puffed red eyes feeding the black

      streams striping her cheeks.

      Déjà vu to the nth degree.

      “Uh. Hi? I came to retu—”

      She pushes straight past the offered

      jacket and rushes out the door,

      not much differently than I just did

      at my own home a short while ago.

      I need to get out of here.

      The words are tossed over her shoulder

      as she hustles to my truck and jumps

      up inside, like I’d invited her to do

      exactly that. I can only watch, half

      choking on a silent protest.

      My head swivels toward a flick

      of movement behind the window.

      Déjà vu to the nth degree, except

      the scowling face belongs to a woman.

      She is Alexa, only twice her age.

      Okay, What Now?

      I retreat toward the truck, backward,

      just in case the shrewish woman

      decides to come after me. But I reach

      my vehicle safely. Alexa stares out

      the far window, not acknowledging

      my presence. “Hey, lady. What’s up?”

      Nothing. She doesn’t turn toward

      me. Would you please just take

      me somewhere? Anywhere but here.

      Would it do any good to say no?

      I submit to her request. “Parental

      problems?” I steer in the general

      direction of town, hoping she has

      a destination other than “anywhere”

      in mind. “They seem to be in the air.”

      Mom found out I didn’t spend

      the night with Lainie. Now, she’ll

      probably suspect I spent it with you.

      I’m over eighteen, and technically

      able to sleep with whomever I please.

      She hasn’t played Mama in too many

      years to think she can step in and

      start orchestrating my life now. She

      actually believes she can ground me!

      “Maybe she’s feeling neglectful.

      Anyway, her plan for total Alexa

      domination didn’t work out so well.”

      She half laughs. As if. The worst

      part was the names she called me.

      Okay, it was probably the tequila

     


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