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Both of you are on track to graduate in a month. The entire school year almost gone in a blink. You spent most of it sneaking around, whispered conversations and secret rendezvous, meeting under the cloak of darkness without her dad knowing. He forbid her from seeing you. He told her you would cause nothing but trouble.
Thing is, she already knew that.
That wasn’t enough to stop her.
“So, Vassar, huh?” you ask, sitting beside her on the picnic table at the park near her house. It’s dark, pushing midnight, and you just got done with a full rehearsal for Julius Caesar. The Drama Club is putting it on in three weeks as part of graduation festivities. “Liberal Arts. Bet your dad loves that.”
“Yeah, he looked at me about the same way he did when he realized we were sleeping together.”
Man, he hadn’t taken that well at all. Full-blown rage to the point of taking his grievances to his boss. Your father shrugged it off, though, saying you’ve done worse things than bedding a girl. Needless to say, her dad isn't enjoying his job much anymore.
She’s committed to attending Vassar College next year. Meanwhile, you haven’t decided anything. You’re not even sure you want to go to college. You have dreams but they don’t include studying law at Princeton. You got accepted somehow. You didn't even apply. The whole thing reeks of your father.
“Congratulations,” you say. “It’s a great school.”
The future isn’t something you and her have talked much about. You’ve never even given this thing you have a title. No promises.
You don’t promise things. Ever.
But the future is coming up fast. It’s about to be the present. And whatever this is between you is going to be affected.
She nudges you with her shoulder. “Will you come see me?”
“I’m sure I’ll pop up from time to time.”
“You better,” she says. “I’m going to miss you.”
She’s getting emotional, her voice cracking around those words.
“We’ve still got a few weeks,” you say, shoving up from the picnic table as you grab her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s not waste tonight worrying about it.”
You take a walk together, holding hands. There’s an inn nearby, beyond the edge of the park. A cranky middle-aged woman runs it, one of the only people you’ve ever encountered your nights when you meet up here. The inn is dark tonight. Sheets hang out on a clothesline, left overnight.
You snatch one off.
Along the water, you lay it down on the grass. You lay her down on top of it. You know you’ll have some privacy tucked back here, away from the picnic area. You don’t want to waste any more of tonight. Every stitch of clothing is removed, and you take your time teasing her, and tasting her, before you make love to her.
You’re going to miss her, too.
You don’t tell her that, not with words, but she knows. She feels it in every kiss. In every thrust of your hips. You make her laugh as you’re deep inside of her. You tell her she’s beautiful as she moans beneath you.
You lay there after you finish, still on top of her, catching your breath as you kiss her neck. You’re careful not to leave marks anymore.
There’s a rustling nearby, along the water, shadows moving in the darkness. You only have the moonlight to see. Whatever it is comes closer… closer… closer. It’s coming right for you.
The girl notices. She screams, the piercing sound shattering the silence of the night, when the thing in the shadows makes a noise beside her. QUACK.
She shoves you off of her. You’re laughing too hard to calm her down. She scrambles away, shrieking, yanking the sheet out from under you to wrap up in it, scattering your clothes.
“It’s just a duck,” you tell her, sitting naked in the grass. You’re still laughing as the duck veers toward her, quacking like crazy in reaction to the noise she’s making.
“A duck?” she says. “What does it want? Oh my god, it’s following me. Why is it following me?”
“It’s probably hungry,” you say.
“Do I look like duck food?” she asks, trying to shoo it away. “Go home, Daffy.”
You get to your feet and gather up the clothes, tossing hers at her. The duck waddles off, heading for the water. It’s too late, though. She made too much of a ruckus.
There’s movement again. More ducks are coming.
She runs away, toward the inn, carrying her clothes. You start to follow when a blast of light shatters the night. A flashlight. You freeze, alarmed. Someone is there. The girl hides in the backyard of the inn, but you hesitate too long. The flashlight finds you as a voice calls out, “Police! Let me see your hands!”
Your clothes drop. You stand there, in all your naked glory, and hold your hands up in front of you as a police officer approaches. He orders you to get dressed before putting you in handcuffs.
