Megan and her mother’s eyes went wide. It figured that the aloof man in their house wasn’t paying attention when they went over the ground rules before the Betts arrived. Megan had explained that they didn’t need to tiptoe around the delicate issue surrounding the Betts. Donnie consciously took strides to move forward from the tragedy, but they still needed to be sensitive of his circumstances. How could he have been so careless as to mention something like a father/son tournament to Donnie – the boy whose father killed himself?
Megan’s mom tried to cover for her husband’s error, “Now honey, Megan’s boyfriend just said that he never actually does any real golfing…”
Megan’s eyes stretched so wide that they resembled ping pong balls. Boyfriend?!?! She turned to Donnie to see his reaction to her mom’s arbitrary label.
He didn’t see her because he looked at his mother when she said, “Megan’s your girlfriend? I didn’t know that.”
“Kent Selleck already thinks he’s got the tournament wrapped up,” Mr. Priddy said, ignoring them. “What he doesn’t know is that I have an ace-in-the-hole with you, Donnie-boy.”
“They spend all their time together,” Mrs. Priddy said to Donnie’s mother.
Mrs. Betts then asked Donnie the outrageous, “Have you kissed?”
The flurry of conversation came to an abrupt stop like the silent pause that occurs when a car passes underneath a bridge in a rainstorm.
The rain resumed its onslaught when Mr. Priddy, who apparently was in his own world, opened another beer. He wasn’t sure how good Donnie was, but he was the best prospect that he had. He said, “We have time to get in a practice round or two in before the tournament. What do you say, Donnie? Are you free on Wednesday?”
Donnie was on the spot and panicked. “I’d rather not” was the signal his brain sent to his mouth, but somewhere between the two, wires got crossed and he said, “Wednesday’s good.”
Mr. Priddy held his bottle up in a toast.
Megan buried her face in her hands.
Mrs. Priddy stared at her husband.
And Mrs. Betts said to Donnie, “Why didn’t you tell me that Megan is your girlfriend?”
EIGHTEEN
The following day, Donnie and Megan hung out at their storage unit. Megan had a scheduled day off from Friendly’s. Donnie was supposed to work, but it had been raining all day. Golfers didn’t like the rain.
They played a few hands of double solitaire before putting the cards away. The door was left open so they could watch the storm clouds. Not many people used Parkside Storage on rainy days so they didn’t have to worry about their privacy.
“Look at all that rain,” Megan said. “I can’t believe how much there is.”
“And it just keeps coming,” Donnie replied. “Kind of like snot.”
“Ewwwww. What?”
“Like, you know,” he explained, slightly embarrassed and partly proud of his analogy, “when you have a runny nose from a cold. You keep blowing it and blowing it, but there always seems to be more snot. Where does it all come from?”
Megan rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“You get what I’m saying,” Donnie said.
Reluctantly, she agreed.
They moved their chairs to the edge of Unit #143. Together, they watched the rain blanket their town. When the frequency of the heavy drops increased, the noise of them smacking down on the roofs and pavement was louder than a fat man wearing neon pink. They kept the radio off and listened to the precipitation.
“Would it be weird for me to say that the rain is beautiful?” Megan asked.
“Nah.”
“We always think of warm sunny days with low humidity as beautiful, but look at this.” They admired the torrent of rain washing over Haviland. “This is nature being gorgeous in a whole different way.”
“Yeah.”
They watched the tiny bits of cloud fall to the ground until the worst of the storm moved on, leaving an eerie, unusual light in its wake. It wasn’t late enough to be dark out, but it was and everything had a bland tinge of orange surrounding it.
“I’m sorry about all that crap yesterday,” Megan told him.
“It’s all right.”
“You don’t have to play golf with my dad. That’s crazy.”
“We’ll see. Actually, I don’t have any clubs.”
“Why didn’t you tell him that?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking.”
“What do you use at the driving range?”
“Dirt has an extra driver, four iron, and pitching wedge that he lets me use.”
She didn’t know exactly what that meant but nodded her head anyway.
In the distance, there was a flash of lightning followed by a loud crack and a low boom. Megan jumped at the sound.
“Scare you?” Donnie asked.
“No,” she rubbed her arms. “Just gave me goose bumps.”
Since they were discussing the previous evening, she thought it was a good time to bring up the other embarrassing topic. “I never told them anything about you being my boyfriend.”
Donnie was quiet.
Megan was uncomfortable with his silence and rushed to say more. “It’s just something my mom assumed and she must have said something to my dad about it...”
Donnie continued to watch the final drops of rain descend from the sky.
Megan rambled on, “I should have known it was coming. The girls at Friendly’s are always asking about you. You know, like they think we’re going together or whatever. For the longest time I just shrugged them off, but anymore, I…,” she cut herself off. “Donnie?”
He looked at her.
“I wanna be your girlfriend.”
Donnie nodded along and said, “I wanna be your boyfriend.”
Megan smiled. “That’s boffo.”
“No. You didn’t let me finish,” Donnie said. “I was saying: ‘I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend’ is my favorite Ramones song.”
“Oh.”
Megan was embarrassed, but Donnie rescued her before long. “I’m kidding.”
“Oh.” Her smile returned.
“Actually, ‘I Believe in Miracles’ is my favorite Ramones song, not ‘I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend’.”
“Oh.” Megan’s disappointment returned.
Donnie laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Yeah, sure. I don’t care what you call us. If you want to label us as boyfriend and girlfriend, that’s fine. I’ll go along with that. I don’t know what it is that I like about you, but I sure like it a lot and giving it a name isn’t going to change a thing.”
She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him before he could say anything else.
Later in the evening, Megan closely studied the details of her boyfriend’s face. He wore his Pirates hat backwards and shaggy black hair escaped through the hole where the adjustable strap was located. His cute chubby cheeks didn’t coincide with the rest of his slender body. The afterglow of the storm reflected brilliantly off his eyes. He was more attractive to her now than ever.
Donnie noticed her staring. “What?”
“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“Anything.”
“Does stuff like my dad inviting you to a father/son tournament upset you?”
The rain had stopped, but the runoff continued. Donnie watched the water rush down the alley and into the drain, where its trickle echoed.
“I suppose,” he eventually said, “that the word ‘father’ has negative connotation for me, but it’s not something I’d hold against your dad.”
“Do you think that will ever go away?”
“What?”
“The pain associated with ‘father’.”
“I don’t know, Megan,” his voice was distant. “I don’t even know if I want it to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, I don’t want to forget him. I don’t want to forget what he did.”
“But you shouldn’t have to suffer with it forever
.”
“You think I’m suffering?”
“You did say ‘negative connotation’.”
“I did,” he conceded. “You don’t know what it’s like. No one possibly can. Even if I tell you about it. Even if I tell you everything, there’ll be this intangible stuff left out that you just won’t get.” Donnie seldom got worked up about anything, but he couldn’t keep the tremble from entering his voice. “You know, like you can imagine your dad doing the same thing to put yourself in my shoes. You can pretend just to try to feel what it must be like for me, but in the back of your head, you’ll know that you’re pretending. That it’s not real. That he’s really not gone. That he didn’t deliberately kill himself. I know. I know because I try to pretend the opposite - that my father is still alive. That doesn’t work. It doesn’t.” He rubbed the top of his head with both hands. His hat fell to the floor and made a gentle clap when it hit the concrete. “There’s stuff that no one ever gets. Stuff that I don’t want to explain ‘cause it’ll do no good. Stuff that I can’t even explain to myself. The only person who has any answers is me and half the time I can’t figure out what the freakin’ questions are.” He was sobbing but not quite crying.
Megan turned her chair toward his. “What about me, Donnie?”
“What?”
“Do I get you?”
He looked her in the eyes.
Megan took his hands. He thought of the first time that she had grabbed hold of his hand and the warm chill that it sent through his body. Her touch was still magical.
“I think you might,” he told her and then shook his head. “I don’t know how, but… you got through the wall. I don’t know how…”
“Most people probably try climbing it. I just kept looking for the door.”
He smiled briefly. “Now that you’re in, what’re you going to do?”
“Nothing. Just tell me whatever you want to tell me and know that…” She paused. She had to choose the right words. Megan wanted Donnie to know how much he meant to her, but she didn’t want to freak him out. “I puppy love you.”
“Puppy love.” He chuckled after repeating her choice of words. “Yeah.”
Donnie took a deep breath and exhaled. “So you want me to tell you stuff about my dad’s suicide?”
“Only if you want to.”
“I want to. I do. But, I can’t. I can’t because I don’t know how. I mean, I don’t know how I feel about it or the right words for how I feel and then it changes every day. I couldn’t just say to you what’s on my mind because they’re just these thoughts that…”
“Shh, shh, shh,” Megan cut him off. He was getting worked up again. She pointed toward his backpack. “Is it all in there?”
He knew what she meant. His notebook went everywhere with him. He nodded.
“Can I read it?”
“It’s not the only one. I have several of them.”
“I’d like to read them all. May I?”
What could he say? She was already on the other side of the wall. He nodded again.
NINETEEN
The driving range was nearly golf ball free when Donnie finally sat down on the bench that leaned against the shack.
Dirt stuck his head out the window and asked in his crackling voice, “Where’s your bike, kid?”
“Got a ride today,” Donnie said without turning to look at him.
“All summer long you’ve been riding that freakin’ bike.”
“Well, not today.”
Donnie was waiting for Megan to pick him up. It was the last Saturday before their junior year started and they were taking their planned field trip to get a better view of the stars. Megan had even bought an astronomy book and one of those little lights to clip on it. She gave him a lift to work so they wouldn’t have to worry about his bike later on when it was time to drive to the countryside far north of Atlanta.
Donnie heard the side door of the shack close and the scruffy, round man turned the corner with a bag of golf clubs.
“You going golfing, Dirt?” Donnie said. Although he owned a driving range and knew what a good swing looked like, Donnie never knew Dirt to be a golfer.
“No! I hate golf. Damn sport will make a grown man cry. I seen it.” He set the tan bag filled with clubs down next to Donnie. “You’re still a kid though, so you’re in the clear.”
“What are you talking about?”
Dirt handed him some cash. “Here’s your pay for the day.”
“Thanks.”
“I noticed you’ve been gettin’ pretty good at swinging the club.”
“Despite your coaching.”
“Don’t be a wiseguy… I thought that you might like taking your game to a real golf course sometime, so I got these for ya.” He nodded to the bag of clubs.
“Those are for me?”
“Yeah,” Dirt drew the word out. “I would have given them to you a while ago, but you’ve been on that bike all summer. Can’t carry clubs and ride a bike at the same time, can you?”
Donnie answered absentmindedly, “No.” He began inspecting the clubs and the bag. “This is awesome, Dirt. Thanks so much.”
“All right.”
“No, really Dirt. This is killer.”
“OK, that’s enough.” Dirt began to feel uncomfortable. “I don’t like doing nice stuff, so knock it off. It’s not that big a deal anyway. I really only had to buy the bag and the putter and those are both used. The rest of the clubs are all just clubs these idiots left behind and never came back for.”
Donnie noticed that he didn’t have a matching set, but it didn’t matter.
“That’s a pretty good driver in there,” Dirt told him. “You’ll need to get your own golf balls. All the ones we use here are crap driving range balls that don’t fly worth a crap.”
“Thanks a lot. I mean it, Dirt.” Donnie stood and approached Dirt.
“Hold it, right there,” Dirt said. “You’re not going to hug me, are you?”
“No.” Donnie wasn’t sure why he stood. He only knew that he wanted to show his gratitude.
“Men shake hands, Donnie,” Dirt explained. “On something like this, you shake a man’s hand. You should have shaken my hand when I offered you the job, too.”
“Why didn’t you shake mine?”
“Hey! Every guy likes a girl’s ass but no guy likes a smart-ass!”
He put his hand out. Donnie took it.
“That’s not a handshake,” Dirt exclaimed.
“What?”
“Put some mustard behind it. Nice and tight. Let me know you’re there. Come on. Try again.”
They shook hands again. “That’s it,” Dirt said. “Squeeze a little harder. There you go. That’s a handshake.”
Megan pulled into the gravel lot.
“Seen her before,” Dirt said. “That your girlfriend?”
“Yeah.”
Dirt’s face registered mild shock. “You do all right, Donnie.”
“You bet.” He threw the bag over his shoulder. “Thanks again for the clubs.”
“Get out of here.”
Donnie’s feet crunched across the gravel and he got into the van with Megan.
They drove for nearly an hour and got lost on a bunch of farm roads. Donnie reassured her that as long as they had a map in the van, he would be able to get them back. They parked in an open field and got out.
Megan had wisely stopped at the storage unit to pick up one of their Haviland Platypus blankets that they used to get through the winter. Donnie whipped the blanket open and they lounged out on it.
“So, Dirt gave you those clubs as a gift?” Megan asked.
“Yup.”
“For what?”
“Don’t really know.”
“That’s cool. Don’t let my dad see them. He’s pissed that you didn’t have any and missed that tournament.”
Donnie laughed.
Megan took out her newly purchased astronomy book. It was the first time she opened it and had a hard time
making anything out. She handed it to Donnie for his assistance. Donnie looked back and forth from the sky to the book, but couldn’t decipher any more than the two constellations that everyone knew – the big dipper and the little dipper.
“Forget this,” he said and tossed the book aside.
“Hey! I paid twenty bucks for that.”
“It’s not doing us any good.” He laid back and put his hands behind his head.
She crawled over him to retrieve the book. Then, with his body underneath her, she changed her mind and snuggled up to him. “Mmmm,” she moaned and gave him a kiss. “You’re yummy.”
Her single kiss led to an onslaught of more kisses. Alone, in the open field and reclined on the blanket, they found new ways to fool around. Hands slipped under shirts and down into pants. Each new touch was arousing in an unfamiliar way. She kissed his neck; he kissed her belly. At no time did they invade undergarments, even though the thought had crossed their minds.
When they were done exploring each other enough for one night, they settled back on the blanket and gazed at the night sky.
“Look how beautiful it is,” Megan said. Both kids were flat on their backs, hands held, fingers intertwined. “You forget what it’s like. Look how the horizon is black, you know? It doesn’t have that glow. We have to come out here every month so we don’t forget.”
Donnie looked at the stars in space. “Makes me feel small. Insignificant.”
“Not to me, you’re not.”
“But overall… if we didn’t have each other, what would there be? We’re just one small planet rotating around a dying star. We’re just one small solar system in just one galaxy out of thousands, maybe more? We’re just a grain of sand.”
As they had done so often in the past, they kept each other company in silence. Their bodies relaxed. Their faces softened. Their bones became heavy, and together, they melted into the Earth.
Megan stared at the quarter moon for a long time before she asked, “Do you suppose the moon wishes that it were the sun?”
“I’m sure it’s happy with being the moon.”
Writing on the Wall Page 10