Closer
I've been in love with the same girl for over three decades. We do everything together: eat, sleep, play baseball, go to the movies, you name it, we do it. We even go to the bathroom together. That might sound weird to most people, but when I think about it, we're close enough to do that sort of thing. In fact, I think we're about as close as any two people could be -scratch that, we're closer.
Now I'm guessing you're wondering just how close we are. Well, to answer that question, we have to go back to my sophomore year. I was a pretty impressionable boy, more so than most that age. If you did something, said a phrase or even wore something that was considered “cool”, I would've been doing, saying or wearing that exact same thing by the end of the week. Let's just say I tried way too hard to be cool. It paid off though; I met Lucy, the girl of my dreams by imitating the “cool” people.
I can still remember that day. It was late April. The winter blues had lifted a few weeks before and spring was moving in with a vengeance. The temperature that day was just right for my new pair of cargo shorts, another embodiment of my quest for cool, and although they were uncomfortable -I had a lot of trouble walking in them due to my short legs, I felt good wearing them; like part of the in-crowd.
Being a smoker, I'd spent a lot of time in the designated smoking area just off the school's west parking lot. The upside to this, besides making sure everyone could see you in your new cargos, was that I had perfected my eagle-eyes to zooming in, picking out and creepily staring at the hottest girl, or girls, that would hang out next to their cars in the nearby lot. This is how I discovered Lucy.
I know this might sound cliché, but I swear this is true. Apparently Lucy knew who I was, or so she tells me now. I guess we used to play together a lot back when we were younger. It makes sense now that I think about it; we do live on the same block. At the time though, I didn't know this, nor did I know that she had grown up into a real hottie. So anyway, what happened was I saw the back of this girl and was immediately drawn to her. You know how it is. If my life would be made into a movie, there would definitely be some sappy music playing at this moment of the story. What I did next however, was anything but normal for me. I tossed my smoke aside, early if I recall correctly -something else I never do, and went over to talk to her.
Now maybe it was just the cargos taking over, but I suddenly felt on top of the world -another cliché, I know. But apparently Lucy must've thought the same thing, because she didn't laugh at me, give me any rude looks, say mean things to me or anything like that. In fact, she actually started talking to me! Yeah, this was somewhat of a miracle to me. When I think about it now though, I understand why she did this. She definitely knows how to show a guy a good time... Look at me, getting all nostalgic. Anyway, back to my story. I walked up to the girls in mid-conversation. Lucy, and her two friends, I think their names were Brittney and... Something else, we'll say Heather for the sake of the story, were discussing something about Cherrywood Street, a sort-of local attraction. I guess one of the houses near the end of the road is haunted; kids play hide and seek in its front yard when they're feeling brave, teens hang out there at night to smoke pot or make out and stuff, typical haunted house things. Everyone knows the house isn't haunted, but an invitation to go there was never something to turn down and that's exactly what Lucy gave me, an invitation.
I could tell by the way she dressed that Lucy wasn't into drugs. She wasn't exactly the preppy-type, nor was she a hippy, goth or metal chick. She was just… normal I guess you could say. She had on a nice pair of tight jeans with a single color tank top, green I think it was. Yeah, definitely green, it went well with her blonde hair. Anyway, knowing she wasn't looking to get high, this invitation could only mean one thing: I was in for a good night.
When I showed up at her house, she greeted me at the door. She told me she needed a few minutes to take care of something and left me on the front porch. Inside the house I could hear a faint sound of laughter, a couple of loud clangs, and then silence. At first I thought she had been playing a joke on me and the cops were going to show up and hassle me for loitering or peeping or something, but she did return a few minutes later and apologized. She stepped out and brushed pass me, leading the way toward Cherry Street. I probably should’ve paid more attention to what had happened while I was standing around on her front porch, but one whiff of her perfume as she passed by me made me forget all about the odd moment beforehand.
When we got to the supposedly haunted house, she asked me if I believed in ghosts. I knew where this was going, so I decided to play along. Looking back at this, I'm surprised she held herself together so well, I mean the statement really was quite ironic. However, she was very good at pretending to be uneasy. It didn't matter though; we both knew that wasn't why we were here.
The Victorian-looking house had been abandoned for years, maybe even decades, but it had held up surprisingly well. I was a bit nervous about climbing the stairwell off the main lobby, but kept my cool. I wasn't about to mess this up less than ten feet away from a bedroom door. I could feel my palms getting sweaty. She led me into the bedroom and went off on some story about what had happened in this house a long time ago. I don't remember the story very well, as I was distracted by her pretty face and low-cut shirt, but I think it had something to do with a man murdering his wife and kid -something gruesome like that. Just as she had finished the story about the horrible ordeal, a branch blowing in the wind rattled the nearby window. Startled, she grabbed onto me.
I wasn't exactly used to this kind of situation so I sort of just stood there. Lucy giggled a bit and then moved in for a kiss. I know people always talk about their first kiss as something amazing, but to be honest, mine was a little too hard, happened real fast and was generally awkward. Lucy must have noticed, as she pulled back and giggled a little more. She knew that I was new to this sort of thing and told me that she'd help me out. She moved in real close and told me something I'll never forget. Staring into my eyes with an entrancing look, she said “I’ve got a confession to make. This house isn’t haunted, but I am.”
I looked at her and chuckled. She smiled and laughed again. She leaned in for another kiss. This was the one that people talk about in movies and diaries and all that. It was perfect in every way. I remember feeling my mouth getting warm. I didn’t even notice my skin starting to disintegrate. I was in a moment of paradise. I’m glad I didn’t open my eyes; after years of seeing what happens during this part, it really would’ve ruined the moment. As I disappeared into Lucy, I remember thinking that this was what love felt like.
I later found out that I was something special to Lucy as well. She normally didn’t “take anyone with her”, as she put it, she usually just consumed their energy. We’ve been back to that house on Cherry Street 63 times over the past 34 years, as well as a few other locations like it. Every time we consume another helpless chap, I fall in love with Lucy all over again. Whenever I ask her why she didn’t just consume me like all the others she smiles and replies with the same answer, “I don’t know, I guess it must have been the cargo shorts.”
If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.