by Kage Alan
After we got back home, Jordan insisted we have each other's addresses and phone numbers, and we promised to use them. Maybe we couldn't be lovers, but we could be friends; and that's what really counted in the long run. Of course, it didn't stop us from pretending to be lovers again that night ... all night.
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The feeling of orgasmic euphoria I'd come to love so much when a plane took off seemed to have lost its luster. There was still a bit of a rush, but not nearly like what I'd experienced in the past two days, not even close.
Grandma sat next to me gripping a freshly opened mini-bottle of scotch in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. She hadn't said too much since picking me up this morning, but I could tell she'd had a good couple of days. Much of that was probably due to spending all her time with Aunt Virginia and not her instigating brother. Whether or not she'd remember it after waking up with Roberto tomorrow morning was an entirely different matter. It might all have been a dream.
Either way, I was pretty certain Grandma wasn't going to say anything to my parents about me taking off and not doing any work. They'd laugh at her if she did. I know I would.
"What are you thinking about?” she asked, noticing an expression on my face she didn't recognize—contentment.
"Nothing."
I had asked Jordan just before I left the house if what we had shared could possibly ever be any better. I couldn't imagine it with anyone else, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. He thought that was incredibly sweet, then grew very serious and peered directly into my eyes, maybe into my soul.
"One of these days, you'll fall in love with someone who won't be able to help but fall in love with you, too. You'll give him the world and never think twice about it. You'll never look back, and I'll be insanely jealous but happy that I've been a part of your life and you mine. We'll always have that. And if you ever need me, I'll be there."
He was so Michael Pare in Streets of Fire.
We gave each other a farewell kiss, something I'd actually grown to enjoy; then I went out to make my goodbyes to the rest of the family. Grandma ushered me off shortly after.
"Nothing?” She was practically slurring. “You look like you got too much sun. You're makin’ my eyes hurt the way you're glowing."
"Well...” I looked over at her. “I was thinking about Alphaville. They have a song about believing in dreams. I was just thinking how true those lyrics are."
My adventure in life was just beginning. Maybe I'd write about it as it happened. Then again, who'd believe it?
"More of your generation's music.” She looked away in disgust. “Whatever happened to Frank Sinatra? Whatever happened to Bing Crosby?"
"They fossilized.” I pulled out a Kleenex. “Wipe your chin, Grandma. You're drooling again."
And with that, I left California.
Forever changed...
END
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About the Author
Kage Alan grew up in a suburb of Detroit, Michigan, the Motor City—and, if you think about it, the only state where someone can hold their hand up and point to where they live. He attended Grand Valley State University in Allendale, the really, really quiet city, and graduated with a BA in Creative Writing and Film & Video. He has since returned to the aforementioned suburb of Detroit, where he resides with his previously unmentioned half-Asian and wholly domineering partner.
Kage enjoys buying DVDs, traveling overseas (and buying DVDs there), eating sushi, fibbing to his partner about that DVDs he may or may not have picked up that week, playing Laser Tag, attending sci-fi conventions and allowing the everyday goofy behavior of himself and those around him to inspire his writing. He can otherwise be found via email at [email protected] and online at www.myspace/kagealan.
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ABOUT THE ARTIST
Angela Waters's eclectic tastes in music and books have converged with her fascination with technology. Sleepless nights are filled with listening to hardcore rockers and playing out the tunes in colors that describe her vision of an author's words. Her muse is thrilled it finally has a place to cut loose.
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