Playing with Matches (7 page)

“Everyone feels like they don’t belong sometimes, Melody.” Maybe I sounded just slightly bitter.

“You?” She wiped her eyes and looked at me with a disturbing intensity. “When did you ever feel like you didn’t belong?”

“A long time ago.” I wasn’t going to talk about it.

“Leon, what do you mean?”

I was about to shout, about to tell her to mind her own business, but I paused. No matter how bad things had been for me, they’d been worse for her. It was like bitching about a hangnail to a guy with no hands. Maybe it would be good for me to talk about this.

I swiveled on the bench until I was no longer facing her. With a deep breath, I began to relate my most painful memory.

“When I was…eleven? Sixth grade, yeah, eleven…I walked to school. Every day. Alone. I felt like hot shit after taking the bus to elementary school.

“Anyway, it must have been like November. It was cold, I remember. I was walking home, and this guy comes up and gets right in my face.”

Dylan Shelton. Even though I saw his good-looking mug every day at school, he was still a seventh grader in my mind’s eye. Acne-covered, bucktoothed, and much, much bigger than me.

“So he starts yelling at me, and calls me a butt pirate. I didn’t even know what that meant. There were all these kids around, watching us and laughing. And I just wanted to go home. Then he shoved me and I thought, ‘Hey, I’m in real trouble here!’ And there were houses everywhere, but no grown-ups, of course.” My words couldn’t stop; the pent-up memories spewed forth.

“I told him to let me go, and he just laughed and said he was going to kick my ass. Some of the kids started laughing again, and this one guy yells, ‘Kick him in the nuts!’ Some kid I’d never even talked to is trying to get me beat up!”

Something hot burned in my eyes. I clenched my butt cheeks, curled my toes, dug my nails into my palms. I would not cry. Not here in public. Not in front of Melody.

“I tried to run, but he socked me in the gut. Took the wind right out of me. And he hit me again. I started crying. And the more I cried, the more he hit me, and the more the other kids laughed. There must have been like ten of them, and they were all egging him on. All I wanted to do was go home.
He just would not stop pounding me, and I hadn’t done anything!
” It occurred to me that that had been the last time I had ever cried. Until now. I wasn’t sobbing, but tears were flowing.

Melody was still on the bench with me, but she stayed silent.

“So I’m laying on the sidewalk with a bloody nose, and everyone just bustin’ a gut. Then he spit on me. Right in my face. Let me tell you, the audience just roared. So he spits on me again. And then some of the other kids start spitting. And then they left.”

I wiped my eyes. “I never told anyone. I went home, cleaned up, cried some more, and that was that. Only that wasn’t that. Because for the past five years, I’ve had to see that guy in the hall every day. Hell, I have Spanish class with him fifth hour. And every year I see the people who laughed at me when I was hurt five, six years ago, and I hate them. I wonder if they even remember.”

I faced Melody. She’d been crying again. How had this happened? One minute we were going for a walk, and suddenly I was spilling my most secret thoughts. My most painful memories.

Just like Melody had.

“Leon,” she said, with the ghost of a smile, “I guess we both know how cruel and stupid people can be. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re amazing. You’re smart and funny and handso—nice, and maybe both of us need to remember that we shouldn’t
give a damn about what anyone else thinks
!”

I remembered my secret fantasies about meeting a girl who would say more or less what Melody had just said. Someone who’d think I was neat. And she was the one girl in school who I could never date. Figured.

It was time to stop this seriousness. Guys didn’t discuss their feelings. We didn’t talk about what’s inside us. We bottle it up, bite back the tears, and end up climbing clock towers with rifles. I attempted to change the subject.

“Melody? A bunch of us are going out to the lock and dam tomorrow. If you’d like to join us.”

She sniffled loudly. Sharing time was over. “What do you do out there?”

“Wish we had something better to do.”

She smiled. “My parents wanted to give me my presents tomorrow. But I’ll see if I can get out of it. You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

I wasn’t sure who started the hug, but we didn’t stop for quite some time. We just held each other there in the dark. It was nice having someone to hold. She trusted me with her secrets; I trusted her with mine. I was glad she was my friend.

Though a small part of me was tempted to reach down and grab that great butt of hers.

13

DAMN DAM

L
incoln County Flood Control Dam #54, on a tributary of the mighty Missouri. Built in 1940, a WPA project. It basically amounted to a concrete embankment that spanned the narrow Cuivre River. A cynic would call it a stream. A small access road led across, with a gate in front that was easily circumvented.

We’d hang out there when all else failed, usually about once a month. We’d build a campfire out of driftwood. The boys would smoke convenience store cigars. Jimmy and Johnny, and sometimes Rob, would have a few beers. Samantha would wax poetic. The twins would rage about their enemies, plotting gory revenge for imagined crimes. Rob would rant about the dreadful trends in society, from international geopolitical dealings to the price of a gallon of gas. I’d fantasize about a future in which I was rich, successful, and about a foot taller.

The twins’ van had recently broken down again and Samantha’s family car was elsewhere. As the only one with a currently functioning automobile, I was chauffeur for the night. It had been a quiet evening. Rob skimmed stones; Jimmy and Johnny split a six-pack; and Samantha made s’mores.

“They discovered a new moon of Jupiter this week,” said Samantha, stirring the fire.

“Hum,” muttered Rob. “Kinda makes you think.”

“About what?”

“Well, nothing. It was just a mindless reply to the Jupiter thing.”

“Oh.” More silence.

“Leon, I was wondering…,” began Jimmy.

“Yeah?”

“Are you secretly a Colombian drug lord?”

“No.” A pause. “Any particular reason you ask?”

“You keep looking over your shoulder, down the road. You’d think you were expecting to be shot.”

“No….” I glanced down the empty country road that led to the dam. “It’s nothing.” I had given Melody detailed instructions on how to find the gate. She had said she’d try to be here by eight, and it was a quarter past nine.

There was a grinding noise as a vehicle turned off the main road. Bright headlights began to flood the area.

Jimmy and Johnny quickly tossed their half-finished beers into the water. We had always laughed at the
NO TRESPASSING
signs, but there was still the chance the cops would show up one day to run us off.

It wasn’t a police cruiser. It was an old four-wheel drive pickup, which, judging from the mud that coated it, had been driven through the Mekong Delta.

“Cool your jets, guys. It’s Melody.”

She pulled to a stop behind my car and made her way cautiously toward the fire. Squinting into the dark, she called out, “Hello?”

We answered her from the glow of the fire. “Hey, Melody.”

“Hi, Melody.”

“Hey.”

“Grunt.”

“Grunt.”

Melody smiled shyly and looked for a seat on the mucky ground.

“Here you go,” I said, directing her to a place on the log I was sitting on.

Without looking straight at me, she took a seat.

We all sat there in silence, staring at the fire, lost in our own thoughts. I kept glancing at Melody out of the corner of my eye. The scarring had caused her skin to become extra-taut over her face. This, combined with the head scarf she was wearing, gave her a skeletal appearance. She looked like the angel of death in a sweater and jeans. It was strange, but there was beauty in that. Eerie, but not hideous.

Melody turned and faced me. The skull face melted away, revealing her eyes and her smile.

Suddenly, inexplicably, I wanted to hug her again. I wanted to talk to her. About anything. Stupid TV, school, her fears, my fears. And I couldn’t do it in front of my friends. I’d known them for more than half my life and had never had a deep conversation with any of them. In less than a month, I’d gotten to know Melody on a deeper level than I knew anyone else at the campfire.

“Let’s take a walk, Melody.”

Melody stood up so quickly she almost knocked me off the log. Rob looked at me questioningly, but everyone stayed quiet.

There was a narrow path around the river’s edge. The water was stagnant, and the way was littered with empty beer cans, cigarette butts, and used condoms. I’d never gone very far in that direction.

Soon we were far enough from the campsite that all we could hear were the twins’ booming laughs. Mosquitoes bit us and once I almost lost a shoe in a mud hole. The river reeked of pond scum and rot. Eventually, our way was blocked by a fallen tree.

We stood there looking at the water for a bit. It moved at a pretty good pace at this point. During dry spells you could see the top of an ’81 Vega near the far bank.

Our hands found each other. Not so much a romantic gesture, but just two people taking comfort in each other’s presence. Of course, I never would have tried to hold Rob’s hand when I was feeling alone.

What was I doing? Melody and I had shared a little too much the night before. And now here we were, alone, in the dark, hand in hand.

As if sensing my discomfort, Melody let go. She bent down at the water’s edge and skipped a rock. The splash cut through the chorus of hidden frogs. I attempted to follow suit, but my rock just sank.

It was kind of funny: even with my lack of experience, I knew I was in a perfect romantic situation. The river, the moonlight, the secrets we had shared…All I’d have to do was put my arm around her and we could start working on some serious mosquito bites.

We continued to toss rocks. Why couldn’t Melody be pretty? Hell, I would have settled for average. But no matter how sweet she was, I couldn’t get over her face.

Melody bent over to grab a rock and suddenly went rigid.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Leon!” I was shocked to hear her voice tinged with panic.

“What’s wrong?” I squealed.

“Leon.” Her voice was trembling. “On my ankle.”

Even in the dim moonlight, I could see the black thing stuck to her leg. I prayed that it wasn’t what it looked like. When it squirmed, I gave up all hope that it wasn’t a leech.

Melody was starting to hyperventilate. “Get it off!” she gasped. “Leon, please!”

“Me?” The shiny black leech pulsated. A thin stream of blood ran down into her shoe.

“Please?” She was begging.

Once again, I really wished I had a cigarette lighter.

Melody wasn’t looking at her leg. “Did you get it? Is it gone?”

The second I touched the little bloodsucker, it began to writhe. My hand shot away in disgust. I forced it forward and gripped the hideous creature. Melody’s blood oozed over my fingers. The thing held on for a second or two, then popped off. I hurled it into the river.

“It’s gone, Mel.” I soaked my hands in the muddy water.

She scampered away from the river. “I’m sorry. It’s just that worms and slugs…Sorry.”

“Leeches aren’t exactly my favorite thing.” We both shuddered, then giggled. I took her hand and squeezed it.

“We should get back,” I said after a second. “I think there’s some Band-Aids in my car.”

“Yeah.” We continued to stand there, hand in hand, eye to eye.

Suddenly, I had the strongest desire to touch Melody’s face. I didn’t know why. The thought used to scare me. Maybe it was because I’d just learned there were much less pleasant things to touch. Maybe I wanted to prove that I didn’t find her scars repulsive. And maybe I just wanted to touch her.

I wiped my hands on my pants and then placed them on her cheeks. She jolted a little but didn’t make me stop. Her skin was thin, like the flesh of a rotten tomato. I thought if I lightly pinched her, it would slide off her skull. I ran my hands over the ridges and valleys of her scars. I touched her withered forehead. I ran my hands over the nothingness where her ears once were. Finally, gently, I removed her head scarf.

She was absolutely bald. No, not absolutely. In the dim light I could tell she still had a patch of hair near her neck but kept it shaved.

My hands moved down her neck. I felt the ridge where the destroyed part of her ended and the rest of her began.

“No one’s ever touched me there, Leon.”

We kissed. Her lips were warm and soft and not the slightest bit unpleasant.

I could tell this was her first time. Our teeth scraped, something you quickly learn to prevent. When I opened my eyes, I realized she’d never closed hers.

“Leon.”

“Melody.”

We kissed again. With my eyes closed, there were no scars. And she had great lips. And a nice tongue. I didn’t think about how I’d spent weeks denying I had even a passing interest in Melody. I didn’t think about what this implied, about what Melody was thinking, about how I might be committing myself to her. All I knew was that I needed to be kissed. I had needed to kiss someone for a long time. I needed Melody. For that moment, nothing else mattered.

Eventually, Melody withdrew her tongue from my mouth. She placed her chin on my shoulder, rubbing her bare cheek against mine. I still couldn’t feel her scars. I took her hands in mine and we stood there, swaying. It was almost like we were slow dancing in the dark.

There was a loud bang from the direction of the fire, followed by screaming. Melody jolted away from me.

“What was that?”

I could hear Samantha angrily yelling something.

“I’m guessing one of the nimrods threw that aerosol can of Cheez Whiz into the fire.” It wasn’t the first time that had happened.

Melody stared at me for a moment, perhaps wondering if we were going to pick up where we left off. When I didn’t make a move, she smiled and started back down the path.

The explosion hadn’t killed the mood, but it had put it in intensive care. I followed a step or two behind Melody. Good God, what had I just done? I’d invited Melody for a walk, removed a parasite from her leg, and made out with her!

What now? I should say something. What?
I’ll call you
. No, too dismissive.
I like you, but
…Nah, no need for the deadly relationship talk.
I think you’re sweet, but your facial disfigurement is a real turnoff
. No need to be Thomson-blunt.

Just before we returned to our friends, Melody took my hand and stopped me.

“Leon, I won’t ever tell.”

I won’t ever tell
. She just assumed I didn’t want anyone to know what had just happened. Did she realize how right she was?