Megan propped up on one arm. “And why is that?”
“Don’t start, Megan,” he warded her off. “We need to save something for tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She jumped off the mattress and sat down at the table.
“You didn’t have to get out.”
“Yeah, I did. The last thing I need to do is fall asleep and wander home at five in the morning.”
“True.” Donnie pulled his hands behind his head and tried not to think about what he would do after Megan was gone.
TWENTY-EIGHT
An hour before they were to meet at the street corner to walk to Unit #143 for the last time, Donnie and Megan were individually making preparations to see the other.
Once out of the shower, both of them stood in front of their underwear drawers for a long time, contemplating which pair to put on. It could be the first time that someone of the opposite sex saw them.
Donnie purchased new jeans for the occasion. He had needed them for a while, but had been procrastinating going to the mall to buy them. Before he left the mall, he spotted a plaid, button-down shirt and purchased it without trying it on. In the safety of his own bedroom, he put it on with his new denims. After a long exhalation, he did the unthinkable – he tucked the shirt in. “Need a belt…” He walked out of his bedroom and went into his mother’s room. Most of his father’s clothing had been donated to charity, but Donnie knew a few belts had been left behind. He threaded the belt through the loops of his jeans and checked out his reflection in his mother’s full-length mirror.
He turned his attention to his disheveled hair. His goal was to keep it messy enough that it didn’t look like he worked on it very long, but neat enough that it looked stylish. Ironically, it took a very long time to achieve the effortless look he was going for.
Megan tried on and ripped off several different outfits. She wanted to look perfect for Donnie. If this was to be the last time he saw her live and in person, she wanted to be nothing less than a stunning sight for him to behold and never forget. Megan stood in front of her open closet that usually had endless possibilities of clothing. She was outgrowing her favorite items and the rest appeared drab. “Hmmm.” Maybe she should pick out her shoes first? Aha! Boots. Big black boots that traveled up her calf and had a nice heel. In a way, they were practical, too, because Donnie was a rather tall boy. “K. Boots and… boots and… boots and what…?” she asked herself. “Just boots? Nah, too cold.” She reached inside her closet and pulled out a deep rose-colored, velvet skirt that came down to the top of her boots. “Yes. And…” She slid a few tops back and forth before removing a black as her boots thin wool top adorned with large black buttons. “Got it.”
After she dressed, Megan twisted and turned in the mirror, trying to view herself from all sides. Using an aristocratic English accent, she complimented the girl in the mirror, “Darling, you look smashing. Simply smashing.” She painted her nails a dark red to match her skirt and let her hair run wild down her shoulders.
Donnie brushed his teeth. Twice. The Betts’s medicine cabinet was a plastic box kept under the sink. During the second brushing, he rifled through the box and pulled out a few of the items. He tossed them in his backpack along with his notebooks.
Back in front of the mirror, Megan turned her head from side to side. The features of her face did not appear symmetrical. She took turns facing left and then right, looking at herself through the corners of her eyes and then quickly turning to see if the opposite side of her face matched. After a half dozen of these whiplash maneuvers, she looked at herself dead on in the mirror and said, “That’s got to be your imagination.”
She called Donnie a few minutes before he was about to walk out of his house to meet her at the street corner.
“I got the van,” she told him. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Can’t we just walk?” Donnie asked.
“I’ve been packing all day and haven’t eaten a thing since breakfast. We need to get some food, stat. I’m starving.”
“Sit down? Drive-thru? Take out?”
“I don’t care.” She didn’t give Donnie a chance to respond. “I’m hanging up, grabbing my satchel, and backing out of my driveway and into yours. Bye.” Click.
Donnie watched from his bedroom window. Sure enough, the van backed out of the Priddys’ driveway and into his. Megan held the horn down just in case he had fallen asleep during the thirty seconds that passed since she last spoke with him.
Donnie opened the sliding door of the blue van and set down his guitar, tossed his backpack in next to Megan’s satchel, and got in the passenger seat next to her.
She asked, “Pizza?”
“I just had that for lunch yesterday.”
“Oh yeah. Pizza on Fridays.” She put a few fingers to her forehead. “I always forget that. I guess that I don’t have to try to remember anymore.”
“How about Chinese?”
“Great. I’m so hungry I could eat a panda.”
They got Chinese take-out and brought it back to Unit #143. They shoved the snacks left over from the previous day aside and spread out their array of Chinese splendor on the card table.
“I love egg rolls,” Donnie said before proceeding to eat them like French fries.
“Hey! Save one for me. Would ya?”
When a good portion of the food was gone, they slouched back in their chairs.
“Fortune cookie time,” Donnie said, shoving one her way and picking up one for himself.
Each of them cracked open their cookies. Megan pulled her slip of paper out and read it to herself. “Mine’s pretty good,” she said.
Donnie was perplexed. He looked from one half of his cookie to the other. He broke the halves into smaller pieces.
“What’s wrong?” Megan asked.
“I don’t have one.”
“You didn’t get a fortune?”
“No.” Donnie stared at the crumbs of his fortune cookie in bewilderment. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s weird. I can tell you that.” She reviewed her sliver of paper. “You wanna hear mine?”
“Huh?” he looked up from the mess he had made. “Yeah, all right.”
“K…” she read her fortune from the strip of paper, “‘New delights are old delights that you’ve forgotten about.’ Actually, that’s not good.”
“At least you got one.”
They did the dishes by putting all of their empty wrappers and containers in a plastic trash bag and setting it outside of the unit, near the van. Donnie pulled his guitar out of the vehicle before they returned inside.
When Megan saw this, she plopped down on the bed and said, “Donnie Betts, are you going to serenade me?”
“Um…,” he strummed a few chords on the guitar. Turning the knobs at the end of its long neck, he fiddled with it until it was properly tuned.
“I remember when it took you an hour just to tune that thing,” she said.
“I’m not that much better.”
“Yes, you are.”
He practiced through a few chords that he would be using in the song. “OK. I’m ready.”
Megan’s feet hung off the bed. Her hands were in her lap, making a small depression in the deep rose-colored, velvet skirt. She sat upright and attentive.
The song began with a few introductory notes immediately followed by quick repetitive riffs. The music resonated off the walls of the storage unit.
He sang:
Got all I need
When I had you
Had some wants
But just a few
Whisked me away
To a new mood
Then threw me back
To my solitude
Donnie altered the chords and played them at a punchy pace for the chorus. His voice sailed overtop of them.
Now you’re gone
Like fallen leaves
Ain’t nothin’ left
But memories
He returned to t
he regular rhythm of the verse.
Don’t offer me
A lock o’ your hair
Remembering you
Is too much to bear
Quick again and nearly screaming for the second chorus.
Now you’re gone
Like fallen leaves
Ain’t nothin’ left
But memories
Then calmly. Gentler and lighter strokes than the previous verses.
They ain’t much
They do me no good
But cause me pain
I knew they would
He closed the song by repeating the same notes that he opened with.
TWENTY-NINE
Megan was blown away by Donnie’s one-song concert.
In public, Donnie dodged most attention. He never felt comfortable when the focus was on him. It got easier every day, but he had difficulties shaking the anxiety and shame associated with his father’s suicide. He vowed never to hide from who he was or his past, but he wasn’t ready to make himself available for examination by everyone. He loosened up around Megan, but there were still times when he kept to himself.
Donnie exhibited zero inhibitions during his performance. It reminded Megan of when he practiced his oral presentation. When he wanted to, Donnie Betts was able to let go. He was able to turn himself into a great orator, or, in this case, a rock star. He released his emotions and committed to the piece. Watching him play was like opening up one of his notebooks.
The acoustic guitar was Donnie’s magic wand. When he was done and leaned it against the wall, his powers dissipated. He went from outgoing to somewhat shy again.
“Good?” he inquired.
“Donnie that was…,” she tucked a lock of peach-toned hair behind her ear, “That was really good.”
“Yeah?” Donnie didn’t appear excited about her compliment. “One of these days, I’ll get an electric. It will sound way better then. It’s not exactly an unplugged type of song.”
Megan held her hands up, chest high, palms facing Donnie. “I’m not expressing myself good enough. Donnie, that song, it’s like mega-boffo. It could be on the radio.” She cocked her head to one side and lowered her eyebrows, “Did you get it from the radio?”
“No. I wrote it. Are you putting me on?”
“No! Not at all. I want you to play it again.” She clapped her hands lightly a few times.
“Maybe later.”
She crossed her arms. “And it’s not like it’s a good depiction of me. You kind of make me sound cruel in it… But still, it is totally kick ass! I didn’t know you could play that well or sing like that.”
“Me, neither,” he said, running a free hand through his hair. “I guess I’m better at writing songs than learning ones that already exist.”
“And the way you perform. You totally throw yourself into it. You’re gone. You’re in the moment. Your commitment to the song is amazing. It’s great. How do you do it?”
Donnie sat down and swallowed a gulp of soda. Like a rock star reluctantly giving an interview, Donnie scanned the floor with his eyes and considered his answer. “I think maybe, for me, it’s like reading fiction. It’s not real. I can trick myself into thinking that I’m someone else. I’m pretending...”
“No, you’re not.” She looked at Donnie through new eyes. “That’s you, Donnie. I know you.”
Donnie shrugged. “I guess that maybe, singing is just easier than saying.”
It was a revelation for both of them. They shared a smile at having made this connection.
Megan added, “And you’re totally hot!” She jumped up from the mattress and sat on his lap, her body facing his. “You should play it in the spring talent show.” She threw her head back. “That’s a great idea!” she exclaimed, whipping her head back down. Her scrumptious hair flew everywhere. “Do it and tape it for me. The school has a digital video camera. Get a copy and email it to me!”
“I don’t know, Megan.”
“You’ve got talent. You really have a knack for being in front of people and entertaining.” Her excitement transformed into wonderment. “It’s so strange because… Because you don’t look like it. You look introverted and afraid of expression, but really… You’re deliciously amazing. You’re this astonishing person who is sincere and so real.” She took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. “And I know that inside, you feel tortured, but you’re not afraid. You’re not. You have this strength that no one has a clue about. Some magical strength that you keep secret and use only when you need it. God, you’re unbelievable.”
Donnie became so incredibly irresistible that Megan suddenly couldn’t keep her lips off him. Supporting her behind with his hands, Donnie stood and carried her to the mattress. Their mouths barely came apart during the transition.
Shoes were kicked off. Megan’s shirt was flung away. When she went to remove Donnie’s, she was nearly too out of breath to joke, “All you ever wear are hoodies, but you pick today to wear a shirt with buttons.”
Things happened in a slow flurry. Kisses interspersed the removal of clothing. They tried to take off each other’s garments, but some articles were just easier to do themselves. They were too busy admiring the other person’s body to be insecure about their own. The trust they had established allowed a charming vulnerability. When they were stripped down to next to nothing, they had never felt closer. The sensations, the experience was exhilarating.
“Now for my surprise,” Megan said.
She tip-toed around the storage unit blowing out candles wearing little more than her skirt.
She dragged her satchel toward the mattress and sat back down. From it, she produced a strip of condoms. The only other time she had held them in her hand was when she “borrowed” her sister’s driver’s license to illegally rent the storage unit. They were in her purse at the time. That’s where Megan got her courage to purchase them herself.
The remainder of their clothing was caringly taken from their bodies.
Over the course of a year, their relationship had progressed to that moment. It was time. They were ready for sex.
At first, their minds interfered. They had certain ideas of how the first time was supposed to be. The results were awkward and clumsy.
Donnie whispered, “I think we’re trying too hard.”
They slowed down and relaxed, allowing their bodily instincts to take over.
Their five senses were fully stimulated: The visual beauty of each other. The taste of each others lips and flesh. The tiny breeze of breath against skin. The mixture of perfume and sweat. Only the sound of the quiet rhythms between their bodies.
It ended with a bolt of bliss that paralyzed their bodies and lingered long after they were done.
Donnie stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and asked in a low voice, “Was it what you’d thought it would be?”
“Yes and no.”
“How would you describe it?”
“It’s so pure and so unique, that I think it can only be described as the act itself.”
“Yeah.”
She took his hand and kissed it. “For some reason,” she said, “I thought my life would be totally different after I had sex…”
“But it’s not…”
“No.”
“I know what you mean.” Then Donnie noticed something for the first time. “Wow. You’re right. These sheets are really comfortable.”
“Told ya.”
THIRTY
The warm breath on his ear stirred his slumber more than the gentle voice whispering his name, “Donnie… Donnie.”
“What time is it?” he muttered, not wanting to shift his body for fear that his beautiful dream would disappear.
“After midnight,” Megan whispered to him. “I have to go.”
Megan had relit a few of the candles. He noticed that, unlike him, she was dressed.
“Nooo,” he moaned softly.
“I’m sorry, Donnie. I don’t want to.”
They had d
iscussed their potential future and it was bleak. The telephone and email were two ways to keep in touch. Snail mail was even an option. In the end, they agreed that none of them would work. It was nearly impossible for two high school teenagers to carry on a relationship that stretched over seven-hundred miles. It would have been difficult for most adults. There was no way that it could work for them. In the end, they reluctantly accepted it. Their paths met at a tangent and now they were separating. The Donnie Betts and Megan Priddy Experience was coming to a close.
The storage unit was paid in full for nearly three months in advance. At that time, Donnie would either have to switch it to his name or vacate. He didn’t know what he would do. He neither wanted to come back to Unit #143 without his girlfriend nor did he want to let go of it.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Donnie told her.
“Me, too.” Quiet tears followed the contour of her cheeks. “Nothing is forever.”
She bent over so they could kiss goodbye. It was soft and gentle. Both tried hard to memorize it.
“I love you, Donnie Betts.”
“I love you, too.”
She moved away from the bed and threw her satchel across her body. Megan grudgingly lifted the garage door. The security lights of Parkside Storage mixed with the moonlight and shone into the storage unit. Donnie turned to look and saw Megan’s silhouette standing in the doorway. Her arm reached up and took hold of the door. Slowly, she began to disappear from him forever. First, her head and peach-colored locks, followed by her upper body and torso. Then her waist, hips, and thighs – all gone forever. Finally all he could see was a glimmer of light reflecting off her shiny black boots and then they were gone, too.
Donnie rolled over and went back to sleep. This time it was a dark depression that overwhelmed him and not the dreamy comfort of holding that special someone.
The windowless storage unit felt like a jail cell when he woke. He was groggy. It was impossible for him to know the time. The overhead light was off. The candlelight of the few lit candles flickered on the concrete walls. Nakedness left him feeling cold. He pulled on his jeans and shirt before his eyelids came down and he dozed off again.
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