"Don't be. I liked it. Really, I did." Her smile faded. "It's okay. We're practically married."
"No, I shouldn't have lost control." I turned and raced to my white convertible. Donna whisper-shouted for me to come back.
I'm a world-class jerk and she deserved better. I could break it off, but there would be consequences: questions, whispers, and her family's influence to contend with.
Our town isn't big, but it seemed like it took hours to approach my parents' single-story red brick home. Like a robot, I had stopped completely at every stop sign and drove at the exact speed limit, like a sheriff's son should do.
That's my life, doing things by the rules.
I could give Donna a big house, with a white picket fence. Then what? Images of little blond boys with her hair and a dark-haired girl came, before disappearing in a flash as if a Russian nuclear bomb exploded.
I parked away from the house, so I wouldn't alert my father. My head rested on the steering wheel, hoping for a solution.I can make it work!
"Uh, Todd?" whispered a male voice behind me.
I have hearing like a dog's, but this guy moved as silent as a ghost. There he was—the short guy from the bar—fidgeting in the dark street with his hands in his pockets, his heartbeat loud enough for me to hear.
I spent hours wondering what I'd say to him. The words were out before I could stop them or the hateful tone. "What in the hell are you doing here?"
Before he died, my grandfather said the bad part of getting old were all the regrets. I just added another.
"I came to return your wallet, man. You dropped it at, well, you know." He shifted his feet against the asphalt. "Can we talk?"
Not out on the street. My father didn't have 'dog ears,' but he observed everything. I half-expected him to come out and demand this guy explain himself. That's not a conversation either of us should have.
"Get in," I whispered. After a moment's hesitation, he slid in, taking Donna's spot. I slowly drove out, so I wouldn't make noise.
I drove in silence and shame. He brought my wallet and himself. Yes, I wanted to see him, but hecouldn'tbe here. I pulled into a secluded alley and stared at the short man with a slightly sad smile. Wrapping him in my arms sounded so right, but common sense screamed no. Small town secrets don't last long, especially one so scandalous.
"You don't want to see me." He pointed around me. "Your aura's like screaming for me to get away."
"I don't believe in hippie nonsense, but I can't have you here. I have a life." For the second time, I hurt someone who didn't deserve it. Maybe Vietnam wouldn't be so bad. I wouldn't have toworry aboutthesefeelings. Just follow orders, do my duty, and live on autopilot. "What's your name?"
"Mike." His tone was flat, and his soft green eyes had the same longing as Donna's when she waited for me to kiss her.
He dug into his backpack and pulled out a familiar, brown leather wallet. He opened it like a communicator on aStar Trekepisode I saw once. He stared at my license before handing it to me, then got out and stood in the alley. "Figured you'd want it back and I could use the karma. I'm camping with some cool people near the woods at an old, white-brick building that says 'Eats.'" He shrugged. "You can see me tomorrow, if you want."
There was no desire to be cruel, especially for a third time, but he deserved a response. "You know the answer. I can't be seen with you."
I thought about offering him a ride to the campsite out of decency, but he was already running down the alley and out of my life. He wouldn't tell others, and I was free.
That's what I want, isn't it?
***
It was two nightmares or one dream. Mike moaned in a wooden cabin, bent over a sturdy table, with me behind him. My pants lay around my ankles. We had done it, judging from the smiles and sweat, but swirling lights surrounded us, and we changed into werewolves. That part didn't make sense, but Donna and I saw a horror screener a month back. It had beast-men in it.
I stayed still in my bed when morning came, sensing the solitude. My mother was on a week-long visit with my aunt and my father's sour sweat smell wasn't strong.
I showered on auto-pilot, not thinking about anything until I got to the closet. One shirt and pair of pants were as good as another. I've asked Donna why it took so long for her to pick an outfit. Yet, I debated every color and combination.
Several minutes later, I had on a tight, white t-shirt, and jeans.
I could stay away, and I'd never see him again. The second the thought came, my heart seized, as if someone had punched me in the chest.
I'll apologize for being a jerk and tell him there can't be anything between us. I'll man up, say thank you for the wallet, and move on.
***
