"FOURTEEN": POST-RELEASE THOUGHTS

I really had not planned for this month to flow in the fashion that it did.

"Fourteen," the opening story from Tales From Memorial Union has now been officially released to the world in full and I have to say that I am somehow feeling a tremendous sense of satisfaction and completion, much as I felt when I originally completed writing the story on October 27, 2001 (as all of my handwritten notes have confirmed for me). And at this time, I can do nothing else but take this moment to thank each and every one of you.

My original plan was to be extremely tentative with publishing this story, mostly due to the fact that I have held it so tightly for so long that I was honestly scared to open it up to full view and judgement. For if I am going to be a part of this process, the process of writing that involves potentially having a reader and thus, being faced with that reader's opinions of the writing, I have to muster up a certain strength to deal with whatever arrives. Thankfully, your response to "Fourteen" has been a positive one and through your positiveness, courage was revealed.

No, I have not been magically inundated with fan mail because the response to "Fourteen" has been so seismic. No way! It's just that the few words that I have heard from you have been so kind, so encouraging and then, when I also happen to see this blogsite's viewership increase, that fueled me to release the next installment. It is because of you that this story was released in full this month, when I had originally intended for it to appear over several months...maybe.

Additionally, perhaps this was just the kick in the pants that I needed to try again and head back into the world of these characters and try to see if I could possibly one day finish the entire novel. As I have mentioned, only three stories have been fully written, "Fourteen," as well as the next two that I will be posting in the future...and even then, I still have to type up one of those stories as it is written in full and in longhand inside one of my journals! I have been re-inspired and I am unable to even begin to thank you as much as all of you deserve to be.

Now of course, the release of "Fourteen" had led to new anxieties (and where would I be without those?). In addition to fears of plagiarism (and of course, something that would lead to lengthy court battles which I do not have the deep pockets or the emotional wherewithal to fund), there is the idea of maybe the other stories not being as well received as "Fourteen" as the next two to be posted are considerably shorter and different in tone, especially one entitled "Tongue" that is more...ghostly, I guess (it has nothing to do with the supernatural--I'm not that gifted).

Also, in publishing "Fourteen," and reading it again, I found myself actually liking it as a story, as if somebody else wrote it...and yet, that someone really was me! If you could not tell, (ha ha) "Craig Hughes" is my alter-ego, I lived that time and yet nearly 20 years after all of that occurred, I tried to mine my memories and feelings to get in down on paper. For the rest of the book, I worry that nostalgia will glaze over honest emotion. I worry that whatever possessed me to write certain phrases in ways that felt literary will evade me in future stories. I worry that no one will care at all. I worry that perhaps my lengthiness will bore you to tears and wonder just why should you care about these people anyway.

As I am thinking about the novel in full right now, there will be six stories and I am currently in the weeds with two very lengthy ones right now, one titled "December Boys" and the other (currently being written in increasingly "artistic"/illegible longhand inside of two Moleskine journals), entitled "Paul Westerberg." The sixth story still only exists in my mind and heart. I deeply hope that I am able to deliver in ways that you will enjoy, making your time in reading these things worthwhile.

But for now, thank you all for being so kind to "Fourteen." It means more to me than you will EVER fully know.

"FOURTEEN" PART NINE: "...and in the end..."

"...and in the end..."

     Craig Hughes was a Beatles fanatic. From what he had been told, he had been listening to the music of The Beatles since birth. Thelonious had told him that he was especially partial to side two of “Abbey Road” (“A Hard Day’s Night” was too raucous.) so much so that whenever the infant Craig began to cry, Thelonious would instruct Exine to “Go get the record! Go get the record!!” and the music would soothe their child every time. Craig became re-introduced to The Beatles during the fourth grade when a cousin gave him “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” as a birthday present. Craig became entranced with The Beatles and their accompanying mystique and mythology as the generation before him. He would listen to album sides constantly. First he would try to sing along and pick out every heartbreaking chord change in “If I Fell” and he would eventually try to dissect “The White Album”, like a scientist, desperate to determine every single instrument heard. He was equally transfixed and frightened by “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “I Am The Walrus” (something just sounded wrong in those songs) and he avoided “Helter Skelter” and “Revolution #9” entirely. He stared at album covers for hours on end trying to see just how and when these four men changed from innocence, matching suits and hair he could never believe anyone thought of as being long to disillusioned adulthood (with newfound innocence). The Beatles’ music didn’t exist as simply songs for Craig. It was a complete world he could visit whenever he wanted. Thelonious appreciated his son’s fondness while Exzine grudgingly tolerated it (“I already lived through all of that! Now to have it again, in my house?!”) Craig was unusually interested with their breakup in 1970, one year after his own birth (“If you were never born, they’d still be together,” one aunt, never to be seen more than that particular visit, cruelly joked.). He was struck by how separate yet together they appeared to be, all dressing differently with hair of varying lengths almost covering them like fur. Their musical growth in such a short period of time was staggering to him and he would explain this fact to friends throughout his life, who felt that The Beatles were obsolete (“Haven’t you heard of the term Beatlesque?! They did things thirty years ago people are still trying to figure out!”).

     His obsession with The Beatles led to all things British, from the accents he mastered to imitate (much to his mother’s annoyance) to hours of Public Television, British comedy programs and even a brief affair with Shakespeare. He did wonder what it would be like to be black in England for everything he saw never showed a black face. Then one day, watching a rock music news program, he stumbled upon a member of The (English) Beat, a hyperactive sounding man named Ranking Roger. At that moment, Craig thought to himself, “Damn! We’re over there too?!” This discovery made the possibility of one day traveling to London much more feasible.

     This past year, Craig became obsessed with the “Let It Be” album after watching the documentary of the same name on pay TV. It was such an enlightening experience, however sad with the bickering, tension and obvious discontent. Yet, they were still able to create beautiful music. Craig most noticed this not just during the classic rooftop concert sequence but in the recording of “The Long and Winding Road” without the goopy string arrangement that belied The Beatles’ typical grace and subtlety. Here were people who seemed to be in completely different places while sitting together, clearly unhappy and majestic sounds were realized despite that. For Craig, The Beatles represented something that was even beyond them, there was something higher at work. Even their weaker material (was there such a thing?) was stronger than most other artists’ entire catalog. And once it ended, where else was there to go? Craig often wondered how it was for those four men once it was over. How did they cope? How they even decided to carry on musically knowing full well that every note they recorded would be held up in comparison to their legacy and everyone’s memories boggled Craig’s mind.  The simplest answer is usually the best: They just did it. They carried on. Individually.

     Craig spent many hours listening to “Let It Be” while reading one of the only books he connected with during his previous year in English class; The Sun Also Rises. Like most of his classmates, he got a kick out of the novels’ classic phallic metaphor (it made for great dirty jokes for a time), but he felt a connection to the idea of being an expatriate. To find a place for oneself in a location terribly foreign appealed to Craig. He could re-invent himself or just exist as he was without anyone knowing him or his history and accompanying baggage. After his visit to Madison, Wisconsin, he became ever hopeful that Madison, in its’ own way, could be that foreign place he could assimilate himself into. He envisioned himself, writing in his journal while sitting at some coffee house, listening to sweet music, perhaps with the girl of his dreams nearby or just about to come into view. Maybe Madison could be his “London,” and he could be an expatriate of sorts. However pretentious it sounded, it was a romantic ideal Craig clung to during the tedium of high school.  By his senior year, the idea of attending a school known for its grand size was a perfect match for him. Craig Hughes wanted nothing more than to go to a place where no one knew him and he could be whatever he wanted to be without someone waiting to reveal that there was no wizard behind the curtain. After all of this time being boxed inside the matrix of high school politics, from teachers to students to family expectations, he desperately needed some distance.

     In mid-winter 1987, Craig received the greatest present he could hope for at that time for his birthday; his admission letter to the University of Wisconsin –Madison. The joy he felt while reading his letter gave Craig a sense of rebirth. Of course he would be in his gestation period for a few months longer but his future arrival at Madison would enable Craig to experience the rebirth. And when it came to discovering himself, Craig had to learn to walk and talk all over again.

Copyright 2014 by Scott Collins All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.

"FOURTEEN" PART EIGHT: PARADISE CITY

PARADISE CITY

     One Saturday morning late that summer, Craig was awakened to the strange news that he and his parents would be taking a spontaneous day trip to Madison, Wisconsin.

     “What’s in Madison?” Craig asked his mother.

     “My alma mater,” Exzine stated proudly while getting dressed and listening to the inspirational speeches and sermon of Operation P.U.S.H.  “I thought it would be a nice getaway from the city and a chance to look around my old stomping grounds.”

     “How long does it take to get there?”

     “I guess about three hours.”

     “I hope my batteries last that long,” Craig grumbled as he left the room.

     Craig spent the majority of the car ride to Wisconsin lost in a musical headphone trance. As he rode in the backseat, he couldn’t help but to lose himself in the memories of childhood road trips to Thelonius’ hometown of Owensboro, Kentucky. He remembered endless stretches of highway set to “Lyin’ Eyes,” the streaks of nighttime headlights on the interstate and stop-offs at Stuckey’s for three pack comic books and peanut rolls. Craig mused how uncomplicated it all had once been. When grades and lost love weren’t issues and he still had his parents’ unending devotion. The way Craig saw it, in those days he hadn’t really fucked anything up yet. Unlike now. And as he practically willed the lushness of “Synchronicity” to ease his soul, it just never quite happened. The car that used to be filled with conversations and road trip car games was now separated by headphones, airwave static and leather seats.

   Upon arriving in Madison, Craig was immediately struck by it’s greenness. Through even the August haze and humidity, trees and the sprawling green of Bascom Hill appeared to be almost plush or better yet, like the deepest, most luxurious water which begged to be dove into. As he stared at this sight, he also noticed a plethora of squirrels, more squirrels he had ever been accustomed to seeing, at least in one place.

     “Mom, what did you say the name of the football team was again?” Craig asked.

     “The Badgers,” Exzine answered.

     “When you went here, did you ever see a badger?”

     “No. I don’t think I have ever seen a badger.”

     “Why don’t they just re-name the team to…I don’t know…The Wisconsin Squirrels or something?”

     “I don’t know how threatening that would sound to another team, son,” Thelonious chimed in.  “The Squirrels?!” he concluded, laughing to himself.

     Craig couldn’t help but to laugh himself.

     From Bascom Hill, the Hughes family happened upon Chadbourne Hall, which Exzine proudly exclaimed, “I was one of the very first students to ever live in this dormitory!” to any and all who would bother listen or even gaze in their general direction. With embarrassment as his only companion, Craig shifted his attention away from his mother back to Bascom Hill and the bridge which connected this monstrosity to the Humanities building. He watched as students rode their bicycles over the hill, walked and greeted each other with a sense of freedom he had never experienced (or at least envisioned as he watched re-runs of “The Paper Chase”). Just to have the chance to wander around this “greenness” filled Craig with a certain inexplicable wistfulness and before his heart burst with the notion of never obtaining the source of this wistfulness, he turned back to his mother.

     “Mom,” he began, “is there another way around here than this hill? Like a shortcut?”

     “Absolutely not!” said Exzine with mock disbelief. “There’s no way around Bascom Hill. This hill connects the whole campus together in one way or another. There was a time I had almost all of my classes on the other side of this campus, “ she continued, pointing in the direction of the Psychology building but somehow extending its reach beyond even Union South. “And there was always at least one course, in which I had to walk all the way back over here and climb this hill. All roads lead here at some time or another.”

     The “Hughes finality” had struck again. There was no more to be said about the subject.

     After about an hour of wandering through Chadbourne Hall (seemingly floor by floor), the Hughes family traveled to the Memorial Union and it is here where Craig Hughes felt a sense of home that he hadn’t felt for quite some time. He couldn’t even begin to explain the security in his heart as he watched the students mingle and study, flirt and converse. He couldn’t explain the synchronicity of the sights and the sounds from  that lonely jukebox in Der Rathskeller warbling out the Moog sine waves of “Lucky Man” like a snake charm. Yet, everything he had seen could not, in any way, prepare him for State Street.

     “It’s like a movie set!” Craig wondrously exclaimed. “It’s not quite…I dunno…real!”

State Street. Much more inviting than Chicago’s version contained an almost psychedelic quality Craig immediately tuned into. Every sound was a note in the street’s theme song, every voice a singer and how Craig wanted to include his voice in this choir.

     “I just…can’t believe it,” Craig began, staring awestruck at his personal Mecca. “Look at all of these record stores!”

     “What did I just tell you about that?!” asked an irritated Exzine. “This is college! This is a place to gain an education. To study. To learn. Several things which you definitely chose not to do this past year, I might add! I’ll tell you one thing…if you get into college, and I wonder if you will with the grades you received, the one thing you will not be doing is spending all of your time wandering around records stores! And if I have to sit in the dorm with you and watch where you go, then that’s what I’ll do!

     “College is not about records stores and jukeboxes and this is not a movie set,” Thelonious continued as if Exzine handed him the baton in a track meet. “This is life! This is real! So, get in the real world!”

     As his parents’ words echoed through his mind, Craig Hughes tried to maintain his sense of peacefulness as he stood at the edge of State Street. His awareness of education’s importance to himself and his family was more apparent than his parents gave him credit for. During his high school years, Craig wouldn’t even try to protest or argue when his parents expressed displeasure at his so-called apathy, for it was of no use. Craig knew only too well that college didn’t contain endless drunken parties or mythical protest rallies for himself. But, he also knew that college was not exclusively about studying and books, despite what his parents said. It was the entire package. How a class, a person, a building, a bridge, a record store and everything in between all interconnected and what would life be like to be placed into this kind of a world. Madison felt good to him. It felt right. In fact, he mused that Madison almost felt like “Hyde Park magnified and intensified” and that thought comforted him. He knew, at that moment, standing on Lake Street watching two college girls embrace each other in laughter that this was the place for him. And if he were to ever have a goal in his life, it was to become a part of this life in Madison.

     While driving back to Chicago that evening, Craig ran through the sights that entranced him. From the gorgeous hidden valley of the Lakeshore dorms, the decadence of fraternity row (“I guess these folks think ‘Animal House’ is the real thing,” Exzine snorted), the vastness of most classrooms he visited, even Camp Randall was impressive and Craig hated sports. Yet, there was one seemingly insignificant experience during the day which he indeed held onto for the remainder of his life. After having lunch, the Hughes family entered into a sporting goods store on University Avenue. They browsed and Thelonious even tried on a pair of running shoes, but they exited, purchasing nothing. As they left the store, the sales clerk pleasantly offered, “Thank you!” With furrowed brow and confused glance backwards at the clerk, Craig thought to himself (with typical Chicago cynicism), “What the fuck’s wrong with that guy?! We didn’t even buy anything!” The clerk’s graciousness seemed so strange, so foreign, so “Andy Griffith” that Craig initially couldn’t take it seriously. In fact, he didn’t know what to make of it at all. As he re-played that one simple phrase, Craig realized just what it was that called to him: the clerk was genuine in his appreciation of their visit. It wasn’t canned or forced. That this guy, who probably wanted to be spending his Saturday afternoon at that great Union, playing songs on that jukebox, found it somewhere to be sweet. The more he thought of it, it was that strangeness of the clerk’s risk to just be sweet that made him love Madison more, and even more determined to return to this place in four years and add his note to that beautiful symphony.

Copyright 2014 by Scott Collins All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.

"FOURTEEN" PART SEVEN: IT'S OVER/SUMMER BREEZE

IT'S OVER/SUMMER BREEZE

     The 1982/1983 school year finally crept to a close. It was a disappointment where everything, even the most trivial, felt tainted. Craig’s obsession with constant screenings of “Animal House” with Thomas Redfield and a few other friends became a eulogy for John Belushi. And like most 14 year old boys of 1983, he was anxiously awaiting the release of “Return Of The Jedi”.  Most humiliating was his punishment for receiving poor grades during the year-Thelonious and Exine banned him from seeing the holy grail of 1983 until a point where it almost didn’t make a difference anymore. Broken down and at a loss for…anything, Craig Hughes sat at home for a week at the beginning of summer vacation watching television and not much else while his parents finished their school sessions.

     One morning, the phone rang and Craig was surprised to hear the grave, heavy and unforgiving voice of his father on the other end.

     “Craig, you realize that aside from French, you failed all of your classes this year…”

     “Dad, I didn’t fail. Those were ‘Unsatisfactories’,” Craig tried pathetically.

     “You failed everything but French this year,” Thelonious reiterated with that Hughes finality.

      It was of no use to argue or reason this time as the reciprocated waves of disappointment and feelings of father/son failure traveled through telephone wires. Craig tuned his father out while Thelonious again spoke to him of the seriousness of the situation, his obviously cursed high school years and the final downfall of not being accepted to college and damned if he and his mother would continue to pay as much as they were in tuition for him to fail. Craig had heard it all before and placing his “apathy filters” up lessened some of the sting. Craig did snap to attention when his father surprisingly asked him, “Would you like to have a job this summer?”

     “A job? Doing what?”

     “There’s a school in Bridgeport that needs classroom assistants for summer school,” Thelonious explained. “I think it would be good for you and if anything, it’ll get you out of the house and away from sitting in front of the television all summer.”

     And so it went. That summer, Craig Hughes received a Social Security Number and a summer employed as a third grade classroom assistant in the Bridgeport community, an area known for its racial tension between blacks and whites and quite possibly the site of a recent nighttime beating of a black youth on an outdoor basketball court. The summer, for the most part, went well at the school. The predominately white staff and principal were self-consciously kind to Craig, while the kids in the class were open and unfiltered. Craig developed a few friendships with the other teenage classroom assistants. While more time was spent with Hispanic teens, Craig was joined in his classroom with a wiry, sharp white teen named Michael Farmer. Craig and Michael got along well enough but there was a tentativeness to their relationship as if each one was sizing the other up, unsure of the other’s intent. Before they knew it, they became friends and one day, near the end of the summer, while shooting basketball in the gymnasium, Michael turned to Craig and said, “You know, I didn’t think I was gonna like you.”

     “Yeah! I didn’t think I was gonna like you either,” Craig replied.

     Ahh…a possible sense of relief. A break in the sea of racial tension. That even in the segregated Bridgeport area of Chicago, two teens can cross the racial divide towards a sense of harmony.

     “Craig, you’re kinda like a white guy in a black guy’s body,” Michael announced to Craig’s shock.

     “I’m black all the way through man,” Craig stated, growing tense.

     “I know that, man. I was just…” Michael faded.

     They ceased to speak yet Michael tossed Craig the ball to take the next shot. Craig took Michael’s statement in stride. As they continued to shoot baskets, Craig realized that Michael didn’t mean any harm, he just didn’t know better. Craig also realized that he quite possibly was the first black kid Michael had ever spent any extensive time with and it amazed him to gain the understanding that he could know more about Michael than he could ever hope to gain about him. 

     Yet, it wasn’t the racial misunderstandings that troubled Craig. It was, once again, the sense of displacement that ate away at him. Already, with his neighborhood and school, he was neither here nor there. Now, he was stationed in an area in which he truly didn’t belong and no matter how gracious the staff of the school appeared to be, he wasn’t wanted anyway. This cruel reality filled him with the fear that he would be eternally trapped in some frightening limbo or “Star Trek” based anti-matter, molecules everywhere and nowhere, belonging to no one.

Copyright 2014 by Scott Collins All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.

"FOURTEEN" PART SIX: CRESTFALLEN

CRESTFALLEN

     Shortly before Christmas break, Craig returned home from school to find a plain, brown wrapped magazine waiting for him in his mailbox, adorned with the holiday themed inscription, “GIFT SUBSCRIPTION!” The only thing he subscribed to was “X-Men” so his curiosity was peaked. He grabbed the magazine and sat at his kitchen table to open the strange package. As he ripped the brown wrapping, he gradually saw the image of a particularly heavy set man with the title, “Weight Watchers” resting above his head like the most unwanted of halos. Craig blinked. He continued to blink as if he quickly fell into a bizarre dream world and was trying to wake himself into reality and yet, the magazine remained. He was definitely not dreaming this moment of humiliation and he quickly hid the magazine and its contents into his backpack to avoid the obligatory questioning from his parents. Later that evening, while finishing his homework, he took the magazine out of his back pack over and over and wondered just who would do something like this to him. To the best of his knowledge, he had no real enemies. No one who would take the sensitive subject of his weight and hurl it back at him with sheer cruelty. Even in the boy’s locker room, the harshest of environments, no one teased Craig about his size. His burning questions would have to wait until the next day before he could even begin to unravel this sadistic mystery.

     The next day at school…a Wednesday…Craig confided his quandary to Thomas Redfield, a friend he was currently unsure of the details of their initial meeting, with whom he quarreled with frequently but a friend who was loyal and was thankful to not have as an enemy.

     "Who the fuck would send you this?!” Thomas asked in his typically unfiltered vernacular.

     “I don’t know.”

     “This is twisted,” Thomas continued as he thumbed through the pages. “As a Christmas gift?! I mean-what the fuck?! And it’s not like you’re even that fat or anything. You’re just big boned…”

     “That’s not the fuckin’ point, man!” Craig interrupted. “Let’s get back to ‘twisted’. I mean…I don’t even know who would send this to me or even why.”

     Though Thomas Redfield was not the sharpest academically, he did have an uncanny knack for being able to bulldoze through the smoke and mirrors of the adolescent social battleground.

     “How about Meri?” Thomas offered.

     “Meri?” Craig asked, wondering if he misheard his friend. “Meri Skinner? That doesn’t even make sense. Why would she do that?”

     “Because you went with her, man. And Tanya Yang before her. You know they hang out together.”

     “So what? I mean..Meri came to me. I didn’t go looking for her. And we didn’t break up over petty shit like that. She told me so. I know she wasn’t lying and I don’t see why she would do this.”

     “Craig, think!” exclaimed Thomas, growing frustrated. “You go out with Tanya Yang, she dumps you. You go out with Meri Skinner, she dumps you…”

     “Is this for the benefit of those who tuned in late?!”

     “…Fuck you. As I was saying, those two are friends and they are both friends with that bunch. You know…Kate Walsh, Eileen Beil, Jenny Kulikowski, Mason Green…those bitches are a den of snakes. They think they’re so superior and they’re nothin’ but a bunch of five-minute-experts.”

     Craig knew Thomas was right. The girls in question were a spiteful sort. The thought of them sent a shiver through Craig and he realized that all of them constituted Tanya Yang’s gaggle of girls, which Craig had found himself avoiding after his break up with Meri Skinner.

     “Even if it wasn’t Meri,” Thomas continued to explain. “It was probably one of them. You know, just some sick message telling you to stay away from them or something.”

     “I just don’t…understand”.

     As he looked at Craig’s face, transforming from confusion, to disbelief to the hurt he had seen in his friend for the last several weeks, Thomas then began to notice that Meri Skinner wasn’t just anybody to Craig. Whatever Craig felt for Meri was beyond anything he could muster at this point in his own life yet he decidedly became more thoughtful in his comments.

     “Look, maybe Meri didn’t do this,” Thomas began. “Maybe she really liked you. But, that doesn’t mean that her friends did. And honestly, if she had to choose between her pack or you, who do you think she’d choose?”

Craig knew the answer and it pained him to come to this realization as Thomas’ words sank in and began to compose some sick sort of sense.

     With twenty more minutes remaining in their lunch period, Thomas convinced Craig to seek out the gaggle of girls and confront them head on. Initially, Craig protested but shortly agreed when Thomas suggested that he would perform the actual interrogation himself while Craig would be safely tucked away nearby within earshot.

The gaggle of girls were discovered in the middle school offices, keeping one member of the group, who worked in the office, company for lunch. Tanya Yang was present as was Meri Skinner and all of them looked upwards in shock as Thomas Redfield, with the unexpected speed and accuracy of a hit man, fired the “Weight Watchers” magazine squarely at them.

     “Which one of you sheep sent this to Craig Hughes?!” Thomas inquired, complete with steely eyed, “Man-With-No-Name” gaze and gravel.

     The girls, while surprised, remained frigid in their demeanor as Eileen Beil picked up the magazine, briefly fingered through it and replied for the collective, “We didn’t do this.”

     “Don’t waste my time!”

     “Really Thomas, we didn’t,” offered Mason Green, with a strand of lettuce nervously dangling from her bottom lip. “And why would we?”

     “Why not?”

     “I don’t know Thomas. Why don’t you tell us?” uttered Tanya, finally and sharply.

     “Could be anything…” Thomas volleyed back. “…You went with him. Meri went with him. You both dump all over him and break his heart. Especially you, Skinner.”

     Meri gazed downwards at her mostly eaten soup silently.

     “Kick him while he’s down. That kind of typical crap you specialize in,” Thomas concluded.

     “Get a life, Redfield!” offered Kate Walsh.

     “Was I talkin’ to you?!”

     “We didn’t do this, Thomas!” fired Tanya.

     “Really, we didn’t,” said Mason.

     “BAAAAAA!!” Thomas shot back with the perfect amount of unaffected cool.

     With her voice raised, Eileen Beil spat out, “Redfield,…”

     “That’s MISTER Redfield to you,”Thomas interrupted.

     “Redfield, since you’re Craig’s errand boy, give him a message. Tell him that we-didn’t-do-this and to leave-us-alone,” Eileen continued, slowly with and with more than detectible venom.

     “Tell him yourself, Eileen.”

     “You’re one to talk. If Craig’s so upset, why isn’t he here?” asked Eileen spitefully.

     Craig Hughes quietly sat outside the middle school offices next to the nearby lockers listening in on the melee. He listened to the escalating voices as well as Thomas’ smug determination in attempting to make the girls crack, yet not once did he hear Meri’s voice, either in confirmation or denial and this fact troubled him. Not one for confrontations, Craig initially felt fine in the background but soon, he felt embarrassed at his self-perceived weakness and his embarrassment shortly led to anger. Anger directed at himself for allowing anyone to get to him this way. For allowing Thomas to take on his personal battle. But, much of his anger was finally directed at Meri Skinner. He had spent so long in the mourning of lost love and the constant questions of “Why doesn’t she talk to me anymore?” that he never allowed himself the opportunity to experience the anger. Anger at Meri’s control over the destiny of their relationship, helming his emotions in the process. Anger at Meri’s subsequent distance and apparent stance of irrelevance, lack of concern…and, oh, yes…apathy at how deeply she did hurt him. And now, here he was, cowering in the hallway, consumed with the powerful silence of Meri’s apathy and before he knew it, he had risen and stalked over to the offices and stood in the doorway with rage in his eyes. You couldn’t see me when you sent me that magazine, but you will look at me now! he thought and projected through his stance.

     Just as he reached the doorway, Ms. Jayne Follett, the amiable yet pathologically no-nonsense middle school office secretary, exited Mr. Pashigian’s office to the now deafening barrage of shouts, insults, accusations, and denials. Upon the sight of Ms. Follett, everyone’s collective volume silenced like an abrupt click of a radio switch. Meri Skinner looked up to see Craig Hughes, in the middle school office doorway, violently staring directly at her.

You knew. Don’t ever cross me again. And…fuck you! Craig’s eyes seared.

     Meri finally met Craig’s eyes and gave him a final kiss of apathy with a glare that looked clear through him, much like the predatorial gaze of an owl.

     “Let’s go, Thomas,” Craig said not once taking his eyes away from Meri.

Thomas Redfield backed out of the middle school offices as if departing a saloon from the old west, newly disposed of enemies yet always curious if there was just one more lurking in the shadows.

     Late that night, Craig Hughes ran the day’s events continuously through his brain. Unsure of whether he experienced a victory or defeat, Craig did determine something. Thomas was right. Even if Meri Skinner didn’t send the magazine herself, she knew all about it and did nothing to discourage her friends. With that knowledge, Craig made a pledge to himself. He promised himself that he would never treat anyone the way Meri had so cruelly treated him. To never become a pawn in someone else’s life size chess game. He cried that night. A deep and complete cry that purged himself of the hurt he had felt. Afterwards, for the remainder of the school year and the entirety of high school, Craig ceased to shed tears for anyone or anything. He did become more protective of himself and by high school, he had learned (however damaging) to internalize all of the emotions he was unwilling to share with others (except for a drastically chosen few) for fear they would be used against him. Craig Hughes remained gregarious and able to slide in and out of social circles easily regardless of cliques. Externally, he would learn to use his “insider/outsider” status and his humor as a survival tactic. Internally, he would become increasingly mercurial, and even quite savage with his humor and asides to friends over the next four years. So much so, that comments written to him in yearbooks would almost appear to be directed to a completely different person. He would gain the ability to discard anyone who conflicted with his otherwise compassionate world view. High school would mark a murky and lonely period in his life. A time when he felt most alone in the world, hanging on for dear life until graduation when he would be rid of these people, this place and all of the baggage that came with it. It was a journey he chose for himself. It was during this stage that he began to think of himself as a “Cynical Optimist”; one who was uncommonly aware of the darker corners of his world, yet somewhere in his wiring, he hung on to a belief that things may turn out for the better. If he did not believe, he mused, then what’s the point to anything?!

     Craig Hughes also promised himself (however unrealistically) to never be that emotionally open again. Unfortunately, throughout high school, it was an easy thing to say, much harder to do. Craig fell in love again. He became an expert in the mess of unrequited passions. He was hurt again, especially during his senior year in which he experienced romantic highs and lows through his innocently torrid and brief relationship with a college freshman who worked in his high school library. Most disturbingly was the fact that he never did truly shake Meri Skinner’s hold. Aside from perhaps two fleeting words, Craig and Meri continued to not speak to or acknowledge each other, and it troubled him. He could not believe that it was possible to hold a grudge for this amount of time and the pointlessness of it all made him want to scream. Worst of all, was the ghostly presence of Meri in his thoughts. She would appear, unwanted and undesired, in his dreams in which he would ask her why she didn’t love him. It was an unanswerable question, to be sure and it plagued every romantic entanglement Craig would have in his life. The fear that the one he desired most would immediately and unexpectedly tire of him and excise him from their lives without a reason why. With the pain came that optimism; that one day, someone would see his true worth.

     On this winter night, as he laid in the darkness listening alternately to Tangerine Dream and Mark Knopfler’s all-too-knowing guitar, Craig said goodbye to a piece of his innocence.

Copyright 2014 by Scott Collins All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.

"FOURTEEN" PART FIVE: MERI (3rd section)

MERI
(3rd section)

     Wednesday. As years would pass, Craig had a superstitious notion that if anything bad were to happen, it would always happen on a Wednesday. Bad news, difficult exams, angry parents, or some sort of humiliation always seemed to occur on Wednesdays and in Craig’s mind, this most unusual karma could be traced back to the very Wednesday in which he and Meri parted ways.

     It was a brisk, sun-drenched October day. The type that is custom made for Midwestern college campuses. It was a day Craig would normally fawn over but the day’s visual contrast with Meri’s sudden change in mood halted him. It began, somewhat innocently enough, with Craig waving to Meri from across the hall, yet Meri didn’t return the gesture. On the one hand, it seemed odd to Craig that she would not wave back. On the other, she could have easily been distracted by that gaggle of girls she hung around with. And she was laughing at something Tanya Yang said, wasn’t she?

     The next event to occur was one that could not be ignored.  After finally catching up to her between classes, Craig attempted to clasp Meri’s hand for a moment, to which she denied. And after asking her to have lunch, Meri refused, explaining that she had, “things to do.” Meri then promptly shut her locker and quickly exited towards her next class. Craig was disoriented. It was as if the world began to rotate in the opposite direction. For what reason could Meri have to not want to see him? It was a question that stalked Craig throughout his school day and was slightly addressed when Meri, greeting him after lunch period in the hallway, asked him tentatively,          “Can we talk after school?”

     “Sure. What is it?”

     “I just can’t…Not now, Craig. I can’t do this now. Please…after school.”

     As Craig nodded affirmatively, Meri walked away with a previously unseen sadness and it made Craig’s heart race with malaise coated curiosity.

     School could not end soon enough for Craig Hughes on this Wednesday. Once it did, he quickly gathered his things, stuffed them into his locker and raced to find Meri. After meeting at her locker, the two held hands (this calmed Craig a little) as they walked to the very spot in which they kissed just a day before. They sat behind the bushes and Craig placed his left arm around Meri again, yet Meri did not rest her head on his shoulder. Meri stared at the dirt that rested by her shoestrings. Craig did not speak. He had no words to fill the silence and he questioned to himself what could he say while not knowing exactly what Meri wanted to talk to him about. He decided to just let her speak when she was ready but the anticipation laid like the heaviest of weights on his heart.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Meri spoke. “Craig, I know this is going to be really strange and I never…never meant to hurt you.”

     Hurt me? What’s happening?

     “I don’t even want you to think that I never liked you. I did.”

     “Did”?

     “It’s just that…I can’t do this, Craig. I don’t want to hurt you but I can’t do this.”

     Oh no. Meri, please don’t…

      “Craig, I just can’t be your girlfriend.”

     Oh shit. Oh no, did I say that out loud?

     Suddenly, Meri rose to her feet and ran from the courtyard in tears. Craig, bewildered, rose after a few moments, and gave chase. He caught up to her by the school parking lot as she was making her way towards the college campus.

     “Meri,” Craig began, as he tried valiantly to keep up with her rapid pace. “I didn’t mean anything when I said that. I was surprised. I didn’t mean anything. Can we just talk about this?” Meri, wanting to excise herself from this moment kept on walking.“Did I do something wrong?” Craig feverishly asked. “Should we not have kissed yesterday? Just tell me what I did and I won’t do it again, I promise. Please, can we talk? Can we please stop for a minute and talk? Please, Meri. I don’t understand what’s happening here.”

     Continued silence.

     “Meri, can’t you tell me why you can’t be my girlfriend? Is it your friends? Is it me? What did I do, Meri? Please tell me why?”

     After more silent minutes during their walk, Meri slowed to a halt by some college dormitories and finally, turned to face Craig. The sight of Meri Skinner, face flushed with tears, was not a vision Craig ever expected to see. He had no idea of the future he and Meri would have but he never saw this image in it. And now, it looked as if there was no future to be had. All Craig wanted to do was reach out and hold Meri but common sense told him to stay back.

    “Please Meri. Why?”

    “Craig,” she began swallowing tears, “This has absolutely nothing to do with you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt me. My friends aren’t involved either. Being your girlfriend is something I just can’t be and it has nothing to do with you.”

     For the second time, Craig faced rejection while being told not to take it personally. The ridiculous notion of this predicament confounded and slightly angered him. Yet, Craig was a fair person and he was deeply intrigued at what Meri was about to tell him. But, if Craig was unprepared to witness Meri in such an emotional state, he was even less prepared to hear, digest and truly understand her reasons.

     Meri Skinner led a more tumultuous family life than Craig imagined. Her father, Robert Patrick Skinner, a Linguistics professor, was a recovering alcoholic. His sobriety had been in effect during the previous year and for five years prior to that, he had been lost in an alcoholic haze. He was not a raving drunk or one who was cruel to his family. Robert Patrick Skinner was a devoted husband and father who, under normal circumstances, was not a particularly emotional man and his drinking increased his distance. When Meri’s father drank, he simply wasn’t there. His silence took its’ toll on Meri’s mother, Anna.

     Anna Lapham-Skinner, was a freshman English professor, known around the University Of Chicago campus as one who made the transition from high school to college English challenging yet accessible. After spending the early years in the lives of her children at home, Anna returned to the collegiate life with a vengeance and published two books, (The Hollow Years: A Critique of World War One Poetry and its’ sequel Freeing The Tigers: A Critique of World War Two Poetry) in the process. As a professor, she was demanding yet generous even once writing on a student’s essay exam, “While your conclusions are cloudy and not quite substantiated, it is obvious to me that you are deeply familiar with the material. ‘B’.”  She drowned herself in lyrical waters of language and literature during the day effortlessly yet the night harbored demons she struggled to anchor. Placing the key into the door of her home was an almost herculean task as she mathematically ran through the levels of distance her husband would place himself from her due to the drinking. Not to even mention having to face the task of continuing to raise Meri and her younger brother, Simon seemingly alone. Anna Lapham-Skinner’s personal candle was being burnt rapidly at both ends, which caused her own emotional state to fracture.

     The delicacy of the children’s emotional state was also an issue. While Meri didn’t seem to be affected herself, there was the matter of Simon. Typically an excitable little boy, Robert and Anna’s stress levels did indeed transfer themselves. Simon’s stress presented itself during outbursts at school from either throwing chairs, attacking other students, frustrated screaming fits and even one morning in which he ran away from his classroom during a recess period. As Simon got older, he began to also exhibit some of the introverted qualities of his father, which terrified Anna, who was determined to not raise an emotionally closed son.

     During one particularly sleepless night the previous year, Meri overheard a hushed discussion between her parents. Anna had finally taken all she could and demanded Robert seek professional help or face the consequences that she would leave him and take the children with her to her parents in Michigan. Robert sorrowfully agreed and soon entered himself into an Alcoholics Anonymous program. The conversation petrified Meri. Due to her well-read nature, Meri had been aware of the reality of human frailties, yet she never expected to witness it within her own parents. What she always knew as the stability of “Mom and Dad,” suddenly became the fragile state of two sad professors, clawing onto themselves and their family. Meri crept back to her bedroom and spent the rest of her night laying awake, determined that whatever worries her parents were to have, she would do everything to not be one of them. Since that night, Meri obsessively tried to anticipate every request and obstacle, conquering them all with the hopes that she will be one less thing her parents would have to concern themselves with, therefore doing her part to keep the family together. Already a fine student, Meri became an excellent one. Already a responsible child at home, she became tirelessly productive with household chores. Everything was going as well as it possibly could when an obstacle she never expected crossed its path into her life: Craig Hughes. 

    When Meri accosted Craig on that first day of school, her intentions were honorable. In fact, she was the one of Tanya’s gaggle of girls who even suggested how hurt Craig might be if she casually tossed his affections aside. Yet, her growing infatuation with him mirrored his for her. In fact, she liked him more than she was initially willing to admit and her emotions blindsided her. Unfortunately, there was an inner conflict between her feelings for Craig and her responsibilities to her family, including the shattered feelings she had whenever she thought of her brother. After the dance, and especially after the kiss, her conflict reached a fever pitch in which she truly wished she could become two people: one to be the glue in her family and one to have Craig as her first boyfriend. It was not to be. Meri Skinner was a realist, not a romantic like Craig Hughes. She knew that the luxury of a boyfriend would not mix and she, unfortunately, convinced herself that possibly falling in love with Craig would be too much of a selfish act when her family needed her.  How apathetic of her to neglect flesh and blood over a boy! Something had to give and, while willing to make a self-sacrifice, it killed her to do the very thing she warned Tanya Yang about. And there she stood, crying on a street corner in the gorgeous chilly afternoon, facing Craig, and telling him (however, abbreviated) her reasonings for not being able to engage in a romantic relationship.

      The world seemed unusually still to Craig as he stood listening to Meri. Every sight and sound seemed amplified, to a point of previously unforeseen sharpness. The sun seemed brighter, the air brisker, more biting. He even picked up on some music blaring from a dormitory two blocks away. He couldn’t help himself but to notice how his racing heartbeats compared with the percolating ARP synthesizers as Pete Townshend pleaded to him, "Don't cry!” Most of all, it was the quiver in Meri’s voice as she spoke, trying to remain stoic and when she failed, nothing was clearer than the glass-like tears which stained her glasses and flowed down her cheeks. He wanted to find the perfect words to say to her, and as hard as he grasped, none came to him. In fact, it was only after the longest two minutes of his life that the only words he could think of did arrive. He said as truthfully and purely as he could, “Meri, I love you.” Craig didn’t know exactly what was to be gained from speaking those three words but what he received was the image of Meri Skinner, face flushed with tears, releasing a mournful sigh as she walked away from him. Craig stood on that corner, watching Meri become a visual speck of dust before returning to school to be picked up. He walked back to school replaying the afternoon’s events wondering just what went wrong, what he could’ve done differently and trying to figure out just what Meri meant when she quickly stated, “My brother has emotional problems.” Nothing made sense, and the emptiness and hurt were not the least of his confusion. He wanted to talk to her again. To gain a better understanding but as before, thought better of it. That night, he ached himself to sleep. And aside from a brief conversation two days later in which Meri feebly agreed that she and Craig could still be friends, that one Wednesday was the last time Craig and Meri spoke to each other.

     Craig spent the next several weeks in a dilapidated state. While trying hard to maintain his jovial image at school, he was pained to even look at Meri Skinner in the hallways, always questioning why she ceased to even look at him, let alone speak to him. At home, Craig was not one to inform his parents of matter such as this and in not coming forward, his parents were unaware to the seriousness of it all. So clueless was his mother that one afternoon, she proclaimed with satirical intent, “Stop moping and go outside and get some air on your face. And besides, I always told you to find the right girl, not the white girl!” Seeing how this unsympathetic comment affected her son, Exzine quickly and more tenderly suggested, “Craig, if she didn’t want you, she wasn’t worth the trouble or the heartache.” Somewhere, Craig knew his mother was right yet, this was not going to be a time where his sense of perspective was at its strongest. In his quieter moments, Craig wallowed in music filled with weeping guitars and crying mellotrons. Nearly a month and a half passed before Craig began to feel more like his old self. Unfortunately, as soon as he was to return to steadier footing, the proverbial rug was yanked from him again.

Copyright 2014 by Scott Collins All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.

"FOURTEEN" PART FOUR: MERI (2nd section)

MERI
(2nd section)

     After a staggeringly long week, Friday afternoon finally arrived, making the night of the dance that much nearer. Ground Zero was to make their debut performance that evening as well so with this and his anticipation of seeing Meri Skinner, Craig was a ball of nerves. He spent an uncommonly lengthy time grooming. By 5:30 p.m., Craig and his father loaded his drums into the family wood-paneled Buick station wagon and headed back to Hyde Park. Thelonious assisted his son with transporting his drums into the school cafeteria, the location of the dance. His band mates were already set up, trading riffs while a few eighth graders and faculty chaperones hung the decorations. Craig’s father wished him the best of luck and informed him to be ready by 10:00 p.m. for pick-up.

     The time between his father’s departure and the start of the dance was tension filled, alleviated through the bluesy guitar licks and drum fills of his band. Craig was careful not to exert too much energy for fear he would become malodorous. He paced. He played his drums some more. He even strolled the empty, nighttime school hallways when suddenly he began to hear familiar voices three floors below him. Scooting into a nearby elevator, Craig ventured back to the cafeteria. The dance was about to begin.  

     The school cafeteria, now dark, with raging hormones filling the air along with streamers, balloons and a booming sound system held the eighth grade in a sea of nervous energy. If one needed a bit of fresh air or a bit of privacy, the doors to the courtyard were opened and the dreams of teenage hearts filled the autumn night skies.

Craig avoided most of his classmates by either hiding behind his drum kit, or by prowling around the courtyard hoping, in that foolish lovestruck boy fashion, to catch a glimpse of Meri Skinner before she saw him. Roughly an hour into the dance, Craig had allowed himself to mingle (slightly), but when he finally saw Meri Skinner, across the room with Tanya Yang and the gaggle of girls, he retreated to his drum kit and band mates. Meri Skinner took Craig’s breath away. As he gazed at her from between his ride and crash cymbals, he tried to figure out what it was that was now so transfixing. She didn’t look terribly different than she did earlier that day but with all of the anticipation it was as if he seeing her in a known world transformed. He stared at the part of her hair, the way her throat vibrated when she laughed, and while he looked at her, he thought to himself that this girl could quite possibly be his first real girlfriend. The pixie dust nature of that very thought sent his head into the most pleasant of spins.

     As a few of the cafeteria lights went up, the principal, Mr. Pashigian arrived in front of the Ground Zero set-up and adjusted a microphone. Mr. Pashigian was shameless in his display of misguided hipster-isms in his desperate bid for approval from his student body.

     “Young men and ladies…” he began, feverishly trying (and miserably failing) to conjure the vibe of Danny Ray, “…for you are all young men and ladies, we have a special treat for you tonight. Returning from their three month European tour are five young men who have thrilled audiences worldwide and now you will finally know the truth! In their debut performance here at the University Of Chicago Laboratory Schools, get ready to…SHAKE! RATTLE! AND ROCK N’ ROLL! TO GRRRROUUND ZEEEEERRRRROOOOO!!!!!!!” And with a game show hostess flourish of his arm, the five members of Ground Zero coolly approached their places, ignoring the introduction. Craig sat behind his drums, flipped his baseball cap backwards, and tapped the count of four on his drum sticks. The cafeteria lights went down again as the band ripped into a surprisingly exuberant version of the Blue Oyster Cult hit, “Burning For You.” The mini-concert continued with a blistering performance of three self-penned songs and their classmates cheered them on, song by song, first in absolute surprise and then absolute enjoyment. After the conclusion of their set, the five members of Ground Zero stood at the front of their makeshift stage, arm in arm and bowed for their classmates like they had seen their rock heroes address their fans. Once the sound system kicked in again at full blast, Craig ran for a nearby bathroom to groom himself and cool down. 

      Amidst the congratulatory backslaps and exclamations of “You guys ROCK!” from his classmates, Craig looked at his watch, noticing that his father was due to return in nearly ninety minutes. He rationalized that he better quickly get his drums packed away and ready before he went to seek out Meri Skinner. After a final grooming check, Craig exited the bathroom and returned to his drum kit to find Meri waiting coyly for him and for the first time since the day she initiated their relationship, Craig was at a complete loss for words.

     “Your band is really good, Craig,” she said and all he heard was the timbre of her voice as she spoke his name. “I know you have been practicing but I was really impressed. I think everybody was.”

     “Um….t-t-thank you,” Craig stammered.

     “So, would you like some help taking these drums down?” she asked, so sweetly.

     “S-s-sure,” he stammered again.

     Meri began to hand Craig various cases as he broke his set down and he finally began to regain his comfort level. As the two returned Craig’s drums, cymbals, sticks and stands to their cases, they relaxed and talked as they always had and as Craig’s heart raced, he noticed that Meri was nervously playing with her fingernails.

     “How long are you going to stay tonight?” Meri asked.

     “My dad said he was going to pick me up by 10:00.”

     “I’m asking because I told my parents that I would be home by 9:30 tonight so, I need to go soon…I think,” she said.

     After a moment of silence, Craig finally asked Meri, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Standing up and brushing themselves off from sitting on the floor, Craig and Meri slowly walked to the dance floor as the synthesized fanfare of Asia’s “Only Time Will Tell” rang through the air. Meri placed her arms around Craig’s neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist. They didn’t much dance as sway slowly. Meri rested her head on Craig’s shoulder as Craig breathed deeply, trying not to get her hair into his mouth. Finding a comfortable rhythm for themselves, the two closed their eyes for the duration of the song and this blissful moment. Asia segued into Journey’s “Open Arms,” as Craig opened his eyes to find that several of his friends had entangled himself and Meri in a binding roll of streamers, while other classmates tossed confetti in their faces. Craig rolled his eyes and mouthed a feeble, “C’mon, guys!” as Meri contentedly tightened her embrace and smiled. Craig laughed and smiled back, basking in the very magic he had always hoped for, wishing he could hold it or snap a picture and freeze-frame it forever.

     “I guess we should look for ourselves in the society pages, huh?” Craig joked.

     “Maybe we should. Tribune or Sun Times?” Meri playfully asked.

     “I was thinking Jet Magazine myself,” Craig answered, pleased with his clever quip.

     Craig and Meri danced together through several more songs when she eventually looked at her watch and announced that she had to go home. They held hands for a brief moment as Craig asked if he could call her the next day, to which she accepted. As she left the dance, Craig stood on the dance floor, streamers still attached to his clothes, confetti sleeping in his baseball cap, shrouded in afterglow.

     Thelonious Hughes entered the cafeteria some time earlier with a few other parents and sheepishly watched their collective children engulfed in the long-passed ritual of the school dance. Thelonious couldn’t help himself but to take a quick glimpse at this very serious looking white girl who moments before was holding his son’s hand. He chuckled to himself.

     Craig looked at his watch and figuring his father may show his face soon, turned towards his drums and began to haul them back towards the cafeteria exit. After he, his father and friends loaded the drums into the car and the two were well on their way home, Thelonious could not help himself but to ask some questions.

     “So, how was the dance?”

     “Fine,” Craig answered blankly.

     “How was Ground Zero? Should The Who be hearing some footsteps?” Thelonious asked.

     “We did fine,” Craig answered. Again, blankly.

     “So…” for the Thelonious Hughes coup de grace, “…the girls?”

     “Yes, Dad. There were girls there. I’m surprised you didn’t trip over one in the cloud of perfume,” Craig slyly replied.

     “No, no,” started Thelonious again. “What I mean to ask you is…anyone special tonight?”

     Craig refused to answer. He grinned as he turned his head towards the window, lost in the hallucinogenic streetlights, replaying the events of the dance in his mind.

     Thelonious smiled, stifled a laugh and as a treat to his obviously lovestruck son, he switched the radio station from his beloved talk/sports radio station to The Loop and drove home.

     The following Monday at school, Craig and Meri made their first official public display of affection by holding hands in the hallways. The following Tuesday marked a milestone in their private displays of affection. Craig and Meri had alternated their afterschool studying habits in Rowley Library with occasional walks around the university campus. Yet, on this day, they found a shady, bushy area in the courtyard underneath several of the Lower School hallway windows.

     The increasingly bitter nip in the air signaled autumn’s determination to vanquish any remains of summer. Craig enjoyed this time of year the most with the cooler temperatures, darker days and falling leaves and he made the most of this chilly day by placing his left arm around Meri’s shivering shoulders as they sat on a patch of grass behind the bushes. While Craig and Meri had never been at a loss for words, Craig did notice a certain reticence that had not previously shown itself. He thought not much of it as he really didn’t have much to say himself. He enjoyed simply being with Meri, they didn’t have to clutter the seemingly empty moments with chatter. He looked at Meri, with her head resting on his shoulder, her arm around his stomach and sighed the sweetest sigh to himself. Meri raised her head and silently stared into Craig’s eyes, and he realized just how much he enjoyed looking at her serious face waiting for it to soften and glow into a smile. He stared back, smiled and simultaneously, the two nervous teenagers slowly brought their faces closer and engaged in one gentle, slow kiss. Afterwards, they exhaled and burst into laughter as Meri placed her head back onto Craig’s shoulder. Craig felt as if his heart were about to burst with a longing finally realized. In an overflow of emotion, he sputtered out, “I love you, Meri.” Meri tightened her hold onto Craig as they silently sat in the late October breeze, freshly kissed with scrambled brains.

Later that night, as he lay in bed waiting for sleep to arrive, it occurred to him exactly what words did indeed pass through his lips and he felt good about it. Craig was as unable to explain love as any of his peers but he knew that when he said it, he truly meant it. It wasn’t just something to say for the moment or for an effect. He believed in his feelings and he couldn’t help but to express them to his new girlfriend. Yet, there was one nagging thought, perhaps two. Her reticence was one. Why was she so quiet today? he thought to himself. But, a deeper more troubling detail of the afternoon and accompanying question scattered through his head and heart as he finally drifted off to sleep. She didn’t say, “I love you” back.
Copyright 2014 by Scott Collins All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.