Authors: Ellen Hopkins
He’s Gone for Over an Hour
Between doorbell rings
and candy grabs, I roam
room to room, sitting in chairs,
straightening photos, opening
drawers and touching
their contents, trying to
absorb Lawler by osmosis.
The last room I enter
is his bedroom. Like everything
else, it is tidy. Spare. Few
embellishments but the wandering
star quilt, in sapphire and rose,
and matching throw pillows.
I flop onto the bed, settle
into the hand-sewn luxury.
Who gave him such a personal
gift? Mother? Grandmother?
No, this feels like the remnant
of a lover. Resentment swells
and I bury my head in his pillow,
seek his familiar leather scent,
breathe it in. In. In. Smother myself
in leather perfumed eiderdown.
The Doorbell Interrupts
My Lawler-scented reverie.
I go to answer, expecting a knee-
high Cinderella or Spiderman.
Instead I find a half-dozen
people my age. A couple wear
masks—a blood-scarred monster,
a long-fanged werewolf, a Dumbo-
eared George W. Bush. The rest
assume they don’t need costumes
to look horrific, and that includes
my dearest friend Madison. At
the sight of me, her jaw drops.
This isn’t where you live, is it?
No
Hey, how’s it going,
just
demon-eyed inquisition.
Don’t suppose there’s any use
lying or denying. “No, it’s not.
I’m just answering the door.”
I have no idea if she knows who
does
live here, but I’m not
volunteering the information.
As if reading my mind, Madison
asks,
Well, whose house
is
it?
They all wait for the answer.
The answer I really don’t plan
to give. But as I try to formulate
a reply, Lawler’s Charger pulls
against the curb. The jig, as
they say, is up. And so, I’m pretty
sure, is any notion of hanging
around now that he’s home. Anger
erupts like Vesuvius. “So do you
freaks want candy or what?”
The car door shuts and all attention
turns to Lawler, tall and frigging
gorgeous beneath his new haircut.
Madison turns back to me, and
the smile on her face is not exactly
friendly.
You’ve got to be kidding.
Mr. Lawler arrives, all charm.
Hey,
guys. A little old for trick-or-treat,
aren’t you? Well, help yourselves.
Wouldn’t want you to knock over
any little kids for their candy.
He smiles and puts handfuls
of the sweet stuff into their
pillowcases.
Anyway, I don’t
need junk food lying around
the house. I’ll just eat it, you
know? Thanks for stopping
by. See you all on Monday.
Dismissed! Then he turns
to me.
Thanks so much for
watching the place. I sure
didn’t need any kids playing
tricks on me.
He takes my arm.
Come back inside and I’ll pay you.
Seamless
And I wouldn’t expect
anything less. Still, I suspect
Madison, et al. are lurking
nearby somewhere, waiting
to see when and if I leave.
No Lawler tonight.
“The haircut looks great.”
What else can I say?
He stands very close to me,
looks down into my eyes.
Thanks. I had hoped you
could stay for a while, but now…
“I know. It’s okay.” Oh
yeah, real okay. I swear
I will strangle Madison
one of these days. “Oh,
and you don’t have to pay
me anything. I was happy
to help out.” Happy to lie
on your bed, your pillow.
But Now I Have to Go
And we both know it, and we know
it has to be sooner rather than later.
Do you need a ride home?
I’d planned on staying out later.
Much later. But somehow I don’t
feel like calling Mick or Ty.
Somehow, going home and fantasizing
about Lawler will be more
than enough action for one night.
“Okay. If you think it’s safe
to leave your house empty.”
I’ll leave the candy on the front porch.
We walk to the car, far apart,
but the street appears deserted,
except for a few kids well down
the block. “Trick-or-treat seems to
end earlier and earlier every year.”
I think that started with 9/11.
He opens the passenger door,
every molecule the gentleman.
I’m pretty damn sure no guy
has
ever
done that for me
before. “Thank you.”
But of course, milady.
I might as well melt right now.
Even without Lawler in it yet,
the Charger smells like him.
I think I could just curl up and die
right here in the cushy front seat.
I know this relationship can never
work out. But, oh, how I want it to.
Lawler gets in, starts the car, drives
me home. And although there is so
much to say, neither of us dares
attempt it. The silence crushes.
Finally I chance resting my hand
on his thigh. “I find older men
very attractive, you know.”
He smiles.
Older than what?
I Know He Has More to Say
I’ve got plenty more to say too,
but I’m afraid if I do I’ll jinx
myself. Still, home isn’t so
far and my curiosity is killing
me. “So…what do you think?”
About what?
Is he playing coy? He has to
know what I’m talking about.
This game isn’t that complicated.
“About us.” Okay. Said it.
He sucks in a deep breath.
There isn’t an “us.”
Now see? Went and jinxed
it. Oh, well. What’s jinxed
is jinxed. Might as well push
things right out into the open.
“I thought there might be…
could be, anyway. Kind of
seemed like things were
moving that way.” Enough
already. Let him talk.
Lawler Pulls Over
A couple of blocks from home.
I don’t move to get out of the car,
and he turns to face me.
You are a stunning temptation, not
to mention an amazing distraction.
You’re bright, beautiful, adventurous.
I am totally drawn to you, and if you
were eighteen and not my student,
I’d go out with you in a hot second….
No! He’s brushing me off.
I want to yell, but I get the feeling
a soft question might work better.
“What if we were really careful?”
I can’t believe he’s about to
withdraw from the game.
You saw what happened tonight.
I guess that was an eye-opener
for me. Ours is a very small school,
in a very small town. Secrets are
difficult to keep here, especially
this kind of secret. I’m really
sorry that I led you on. There’s just
something about you. Something…
fractured…injured, despite how
together you always appear to be.
I wanted to help you. To heal whatever’s
broken in you. To make you whole.
Whole. No one can do that
for me. God, why did he have
to go and get so serious?
Game over. I lose. What am
I going to do? Throw a tantrum?
“Okay. I understand. But if you
ever change your mind, you know
where to find me, at least during
second block.” Side-out.
A Man with Morals
Or maybe just a coward.
Either way, lucky me,
I had to go and fall for
him. History will not be
nearly as much fun from
now on. In fact, I’m not
sure how I’ll go to class,
listen to his lectures, ace
his pop quizzes, etc. etc.,
without staring at his pecs
or better yet, his gluteus.
Then again, I can still stare,
still fantasize, still dream,
can’t I?
Anyway, Lawler Seems
Like the “fall in love, settle
down, and have three kids
with a picket fence” kinda
guy. Definitely not my type.
Not that I’m sure exactly
what my type is. Other
than cute. Built. I’d like
to say intelligent, but that
hasn’t always proved the case
with some of my selections.
Still, if I could build the perfect
guy, he’d be smart. Just not
as smart as me. Funny.
And, oh yeah, a stoner.
Killer combination. Lawler,
with connections. Sounds
pretty good to me. Yet even
all that can’t add up to “happy
ever after.” Does anyone
really believe in such a thing?
Happy Ever After
Is a concept I’ll never believe
in. I would be content to sample
some little taste of happiness
today, tonight, right now, though
I know
without a doubt that tomorrow
will arrive, saturated with pain.
Life is like that. At least
my life. And honestly,
I can’t
think of anyone whose life
is any different. The price
tag for joy is misery. I don’t
want to go inside, but I can’t
stay
out here on the grass all night.
It’s crunchy cold. I watch
Lawler drive away, wish with all
my heart I could keep him
here
beside me, wrapped around
me, blanketing me with security,
fragile as that might also be.
Oh yes, I would like that
very much.
But he’s gone already, out of
sight, a shadow blurred into night,
and I will weave dreams no
longer.