Hyper

by Lawrence Ambrose

  I glanced beneath the table, but I didn't need to. If anything, my "problem" had grown. Alice laughed at my expression.

  "You're welcome to relieve yourself in the bathroom or my guest bedroom." She ran her chilled water bottle across her forehead, and smiled. "That would work, wouldn't it?"

  I shrugged with enormous self-consciousness.

  "Well, feel free."

  Feel free, I thought. Feel free to masturbate in my gorgeous neighbor's bathroom or guest room while she waited outside. What sixteen-year-old kid wouldn't feel free to do that? But what choice did I have? I couldn't go home in this state. I was like a normal dude from the past who'd swallowed a bottle of Arousel.

  "I'll just do some gardening in the backyard," said Alice, smiling as if she knew my thoughts. "See you in a bit."

  She mercifully retreated from the kitchen. I shambled off to the bathroom, but then thought the guest bedroom might be more comfortable. Any way you cast it, this situation was freaking weird. I entered the bedroom with a sigh and closed the door behind me.

  Wait till I tell Keith... I shook my head. I wouldn't be telling Keith. In fact, I couldn't think of anyone I'd wanted to tell about this. This sad episode in my life would probably remain forever between me and my hyperactive willie.

  I stretched out on the bed and unzipped my shorts, freeing my turgid organ, which now, at last, was starting to wilt. Maybe I'd be spared this indignity?

  Then the door opened and Alice Morgan marched in. She tugged off her tank top and dropped her shorts. As I lay there slack jawed, too stunned to rejoice or even be afraid, she issued a blushing laugh.

  "I changed my mind about gardening," she said.

  THREE HOURS later, I inched open our sliding glass door, but it was just my luck that my mom entered the kitchen, coffee and newspaper in hand. I had hoped to sneak to my bathroom and scrub myself silly before encountering anyone.

  I knew my luck had taken an even more grave turn for the worse when my mom sniffed the air suspiciously as I slunk past.

  "Am I smelling perfume?"

  I froze. Crap, I hadn't even thought of that. I figured my "natural odors" would cover up any other smells.

  "I don't know. It's probably some, uh, cleaning liquid I was using."

  "Unless you were using Obsession for your cleaning projects, I doubt it. That just happens to be one of my favorite perfumes."

  "I guess Alice must've been wearing it. I was kind of busy to notice. You know, mowing and working and fixing stuff."

  I started past her. Her arm shot out, blocking my passage.

  "Hold on," she said. "Take a seat. I want to talk to you."

  "Mom, I need to shower."

  "Sit."

  I drooped down into the chair farthest from her.

  "Would you mind telling me what you've been doing for the last several hours?"

  "Working on various projects."

  "Care to be specific?"

  I could think of few things I'd care to do less. Maybe hang by my thumbs for a day or rock climb on an erupting volcano.

  The memory of Alice Morgan's body – supple curves, cushy but firm breasts, magical lips – hung tantalizingly in the air along with her perfume. I hated to think it, but she erased all my previous experiences. It was as if I'd been a virgin before today. I apologized to Gertie in my head, but I couldn't deny the truth. I felt myself drifting into a daydream. I had to focus. My mom obviously had her suspicions. Did I have any chance of allaying them?

  I peered into my mom's dark grey-blue eyes and thought: Not a freaking chance.

  "Aiden," she said, in a low, hard voice, "that's our goddamned neighbor."

  "Are you saying she's cursed?" My short laugh sounded like a donkey braying.

  "Don't be a smartass. How long has this been going on?"

  "Just today."

  "I thought you'd show better judgment."

  "I am just a teenager, Mom."

  "A teenager with a 172 I.Q."

  "I doubt I'd test that high on emotional intelligence."

  She stared at me with fierce reproof, but I thought I saw a smile sneaking through.

  "You might have a point there," she said. Then she did smile – a smile tinged with fear more than anger. "What chance would any teenage boy have against a thirty-two year old woman who looks like she does."

  "Thanks."

  "If you think you're off the hook, think again." Her hard-eyed gaze returned. "Do you know what the penalty is for having sex with an underage person?"

  "I don't know. A year?"

  "Five years is the average sentence."

  "That's insane."

  "If I reported Alice, it would destroy her life. She would lose custody of her children. The state would probably seize her home and bank account under current RSA asset forfeiture laws."

  Fear close to terror fanned out from a hard knot in my chest. "But...of course you would never report her," I whispered.

  "Of course not. I'm not a Nazi." Her steely gaze softened. "But we live in a nosy neighborhood, Aiden. Anyone on this block could've seen you."

  I swallowed down a painful lump of anxiety.

  "And that's only speaking of Alice," my Mom said. "Then there's you. The penalty for a hyper engaging in sex before age eighteen is removal from the home to a juvenile detention facility. Depending on the judge and other circumstances, you could be held there until your 18th birthday."

  "That's..." I was going to say "insane," but that seemed repetitive. "Nuts."

  "I agree. But it's the law. I made a point of checking into it when we learned you're hyper."

  I swallowed again, the knot in my chest squeezing tighter.

  "I'll speak to Alice," she said. "But I have another question for you." She resumed her blue-eyed grand inquisitor's stare. "Are there others?"

  I coughed to clear away the painful lump lodged in my throat.

  "Ah..."

  "I'll take that to be a yes." She leaned toward me. "Who are they, Aiden?"

  "Well, uh, there's this, you know, university student who lives across the park..."

  "How old is she?"

  "Twenty-three."

  "Who else?"

  I ran a hand back through my hair, feeling dampness on my forehead. I guessed it was my turn to sweat.

  "Gertie," I said.

  My mom nodded as if she'd expected that. "Anyone else?"

  "Not that I can think of."

  Mom's thin smile had minimal amusement.

  "I'll tell them it's over," I said. "There's no way I want to be responsible for sending someone to jail – or myself to a detention center." I shuddered.

  "Good." She reached across the table and covered my hand. "I'm sorry, Aiden. I can't imagine what it's like to be hyper, but I know a little something about frustration, please believe me."

  Not helping, I thought, staring at the beautifully formed hand resting on my hand. If there was such a thing as "hand models" –I guessed there was – my mom could've made a career of that. In fact, she easily could've worked as a full-body model.

  I averted my eyes, and concentrated on unsexy images like the old station wagon parked across the street and Keith's funky "hipster" single-gear bike. Unfortunately, I began leaning toward the proposition that hipster bikes and old station wagons just might be sexy.

  "But no matter how frustrated you become," my mom invaded my unwelcome reverie, "you need to agree that it gets taken care of right here at home."

  She rapped the table for emphasis.

  "Here..." I swallowed. "At home?"

  My mom's face slowly lost some color. "I meant" – she clenched her lips –"a solitary remedy."

  "Of course."

  "What were you thinking I meant?" Her voice was so cold I pulled back a bit to avoid frostbite.

  "I, uh, just thought you were suggesting some form of Melon Delight scenario." That scene between the protagonist and the watermelon always cracked me up.

  "Funny," she said. "But I'm serious, Ai
den."

  "I know."

  "You are not a slave to your hormones."

  "Yeah."

  "You're meant for bigger things than being some unpaid gigolo."

  "I get it, Mom." I pushed out of my chair, feeling an uncomfortable sense of relief – and gratitude. "Now I really need to shower."

  Chapter 8

  MARY TOOK THE NEWS well.

  "What we were doing was crazy, as fantastic as it was," she said. "It's not that I didn't think about the possible consequences, but it was just too impossible to resist. It was like this powerful addiction."

  I nodded along with her words, though I found myself wishing she'd said "you were impossible to resist" instead of "it." But then that was kind of the point, wasn't it? This wasn't about my charm.

  She held out her arms for a final hug, and I slid into her embrace. She wasn't Alice Morgan, but she had a firm, athletic body, and holding her now reminded me in a flood of graphic imagery how much pleasure her body had given me.

  "Mmmmmm." She snuggled closer, her lips grazing my neck. "This is harder than I thought." She giggled. "You're harder than I thought."

  Two hours later, we lay, limbs and sheets entangled, in her bed. I knew it was wrong, as did she (considering how many times she announced, "This is so wrong!"), but I couldn't work up much guilt about having one last time with her.

  "I guess this is what they mean by a long goodbye," I said.

  She laughed. "I wish we could say goodbye every day."

  Her laughter died as the front door opened and shut. Footsteps sounded in the living room and then approached down the hall.

  "Your roommate?" I whispered.

  "I don't know."

  We both jerked upright as a knock rattled the door.

  "Mary? You in there?"

  Mary clapped a hand over her face. Through the cracks between her fingers, she mouthed "Rick." That was her boyfriend's name!

  I had no time to feel terror or consider hiding before the door flew open. This was the first time I'd seen Mary's boyfriend, and with his flushed face, bulging eyes, and mouth flapping open, he wasn't a pretty sight. The fact that he was at least six-two and sporting gym-nourished arms didn't add to the appeal. He looked like someone who could kick my ass into the nearest parallel universe.

  "No way," he said.

  "Rick." She rose from the bed, sheet swathed around her, leaving me and my still half-aroused member fully exposed. "I can explain."

  Rick's eyes, predictably, riveted on said member. "My God. What is this kid – fifteen? Sixteen? Are you insane? You fucking slut!"

  He staggered back out of the doorway. His retreating stomps shook the hardwood floor. The front door slammed.

  "Shit, shit, shit!" Mary buried her head in her hands.

  "I should go."

  I sprang out of bed and dressed as if the house were on fire. I had visions of her boyfriend returning in a fury and beating the crap out of me.

  "Good luck," I said, buckling my jeans as I half-ran to the door. "I hope it works out."

  I knew I sounded retarded, but I didn't care. I just had to get out of there. I raced down the sidewalk and around the corner toward the park pathway. I noticed a dude sitting in a car just ahead of me, and before I could steer clear the door flew open in my path and Mary's red-faced boyfriend jumped out.

  "Hold on, punk!"

  I sprinted past his reaching arms and hung a sharp left toward the park. Rick charged after me. I accelerated to full speed. He stayed with me for maybe one hundred yards before losing steam.

  "Hey!" he called after me. "Hold on! I just want to talk."

  He slowed to a stop and so did I. He approached, stopping several yards away and holding up his hands in reassurance.

  "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "I can see you're just a kid, despite your size. She's the adult, and I hold her responsible. I just want to know how this happened. I want the truth because I know Mary is going to bullshit me, at least at first."

  "We met in the park," I said. "She was walking her dog. We started talking, and..." I shrugged.

  "You started talking, and she decides to sleep with you?" He was shaking his head. "Something's missing here."

  "Mary might be the adult, but I don't think it would be fair to hold her too responsible. I'm hyper."

  His brow scrunched. "You're hypersexual?"

  "Yes."

  He massaged his knotted brow. "Oh, yeah. I heard there was a hyper in town, but I never thought about it." His face hardened. "I sure as hell never thought my fiancé would be fucking him."

  "Fiancé?"

  "That's right. I proposed to her a few weeks ago. I love her, and we were planning a life together. She never bothered to mention that to you?"

  I shook my head. He started toward me again, fists bunched at his sides. I backed away, feeling sick inside. I doubt I'd spent even a moment thinking about how this could affect him.

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  "Fuck you and your sorry. I don't care if you are a kid. You don't use that kind of mojo on another man's girl."

  He charged me. I broke into a run. I knew he couldn't catch me, but I prayed I could create enough distance so he couldn't follow me home. He was the last person I wanted to bring home to meet my mom.

  Rick, thankfully, gave up about halfway across the park. I trotted into my neighborhood trying to appear just my normal flustered self to any prying eyes. Being Saturday, my mom actually was home – in fact, she was out front pulling weeds in the flower garden of all things. I wondered if I was imagining that she was spending more time at home since the Alice Morgan incident.

  "Gertie just came by," my mom greeted me. "She said she's been trying to call you."

  "Well, you know I don't usually carry my cell when I run."

  "Uh huh." My mom stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans, eyeing me with an annoying degree of skepticism. "How did your talk with the college student go?"

  "Fine."

  "Must've been quite a talk. You've been gone for hours."

  "Uh, well, I've been running around."

  My mom bestowed her best prosecuting attorney stare on me.

  "Aiden," she said. "I think you may be the least talented liar I've ever known."

  My head drooped toward my chest. "When I was saying goodbye, her boyfriend showed up."

  "That shouldn't have been a problem" – she paused – "depending on how you were saying goodbye."

  "He wasn't happy about the way we were saying goodbye."

  My mom set her hand spade on the front steps, turning her back to me.

  "Let's go inside," she said.

  I followed her in. She grabbed a bottle of iced tea from the fridge while I filled a glass with our reverse-osmosis water.

  "I see some of the beer is missing," she said.

  "Yeah. Mel and I had a bottle awhile back."

  "I seem to be losing the reins on you two of late."

  She nodded to the kitchen table, the site of so many of our disciplinary meetings these days. I retreated to one end. She sat in the middle. She downed a third of her ice tea, and dabbed her forehead with a napkin.

  "You do realize," she said, "that someone has witnessed you committing a crime? And not just any witness: a person who probably would love to throttle you?"

  "I know. Still, I don't see him reporting me. That would incriminate his girlfriend."

  "Did it also occur to you that he might actually like the idea of incriminating his girlfriend, given the circumstances?"

  My shrug was more a shudder. "I doubt he would do that. He said he loved her. Plus, it would just be his word against hers and mine."

  "Maybe. But even an unsubstantiated claim would trigger an inquiry."

  "I admit I blew it. Saying goodbye...it was harder than I expected. Harder than either of us expected."

  "I'll bet," sniggered Melanie, strolling into the kitchen. It was almost if my suffering summoned her.

  "We're having
a private conversation," my mom snapped. "Please respect that."

  "You two are always having private conversations. If you want privacy, why not go back to your study, or better yet, to your bedroom."

  Red flared along my mom's jaws. "I believe I will ask you to go to your bedroom."

  "I'm not allowed to make myself a sandwich because you're having a conference with the Golden One in the kitchen?"

  "It's okay," I said, rising, for once grateful to my sister for butting in. "I think I get the point, Mom. Why don't I go tell Gertie and get it over with? She's probably at the library about now."

  "Jeez, is there anyone around here you're not screwing?" Melanie growled. "The whole neighborhood knows you're doing Alice Morgan. Turns out she's a screamer."

  "Are you being serious, Melanie?" my mom asked. I was surprised she could force any words out through her clenched teeth. "People in this neighborhood know?"

  "Sure – at least some of them." Melanie offered a blithe shrug, backing off a little from my mom's fiery gaze. "Janie and her friends have been blabbing it all over junior high. Apparently, they were out on the sidewalk listening when she and Lover Boy were going at it."

  "Oh, God." Mom buried her face in her hands.

  I desperately wanted to reverse my mom's worsening mood. A possible answer flashed in my head.

  "Some good news, though," I said, injecting cheeriness into my voice. "I've decided to sign up for CellEvolve's testing."

  My mom lifted her head and viewed me warily. "When did you decide this?"

  "I've been leaning toward it from the start."

  "Well, that's fine, but right now we need to focus on your situation – starting with Gertie. I'll talk to Alice."

  As horrific as that idea might've been earlier, I almost welcomed her intervention now.

  I snatched my cell phone from my room, and ran out before either my mom or Melanie could drag me into more controversy. I called Gertie as I jogged down the sidewalk.

  "I've been trying to reach you all day!" she cried. "My folks left on an impromptu trip to S.F., coming back Sunday night. We have the house to ourselves the whole rest of the weekend!"

  "Oh, uh, wow," I said. "I'll be there shortly."

  "I'll pick you up. Where are you?"