The wise pine trees loom above us and fill the air with their earthy scent. We continue touching our fingers together, talking in an age-old language. His fingers are bony and slender, and mine are soft from years of paging through Daddy's Bible.
Our hands feel the same.
He looks cautiously at my palms against his chest, but then he allows the pressure to nestle him against the wild grass. A ray of light descends onto his face, illuminating the deep brown of his eyes. I can see his pupils changing themselves, over and over, adjusting perfectly to the Sun.
My heart pounds when his bellbottoms shift uneasily under my dress. He asks quietly, "What are you doing?"
As always, I don't speak.
We're both scientists testing the theory of this moment we created. The blue planet peers down at it's two-legged masters in an alien courtship, and waits.
His fingers glide to my neat bun and pluck out my hairpin like a soft feather. I remove the rest of the pins patiently. My hair slowly unravels and then drapes above him in a short curtain of brown silk. A breeze passes and flutters my hair over his face, tickling his chin. We stare at each other emptily.
I press my hands to his cheeks, and then I descend into his face as if I'm leaning close to a butterfly slowly flapping its wings on a flower petal. Nothing should move. I don't want it to fly away.
He tenses at the looming shadow over him and his eyebrows gently narrow with something close to fear.
I kiss him.
The dismissal bell rings, and Carolyn is the first to sling her books in a pile and run out of the classroom. Her bright heels click through the bustling hallway as she squeezes past a few lazy shoulders. She nearly misses a student government officer balancing on a tall wooden ladder.
"Hey--Carol!" A voice calls from somewhere above her.
Carolyn stops in the racket of voices, but then she finally glances up.
"There's a meeting tomorrow. Officers only." The brown-vested boy on the ladder adjusts his glasses. "Is that...makeup?"
Carolyn looks down and nods quickly.
"Well, I'll be damned! Uh, see you Friday." He smiles weakly and finishes a long stroke of red paint to complete the '1-9-6-0' on a homecoming banner.
She nods and waits for an opening between a pair of laughing janitors before she sprints through them. She feels the heat of the dry afternoon scorch her skin when she steps outside of the school doors and pounds down the stairs. Carolyn takes a moment to adjust her slipping textbooks as her hazel eyes race around the parking lot for a shiny pink Chevy with white-walled tires.
She gasps when a bumper almost rams into her side, and then all of her books topple to the pavement. The driver honks impatiently while she scrambles to file them back into her arms.
"You're late." A brown, greasy-haired boy in a dark leather jacket and faded Levis speaks between smacks of his gum. He jerks his chin towards the back.
Carolyn brushes off her sweater and makes a move towards the backseat door with the other girls.The car lurches forward and Carolyn's hand grabs nothing but air. Three of the four seniors snicker, but then a blonde girl with bangs and bouncy curls shoves the boy in the driver's seat roughly. The boy almost chokes on the wad of gum between his teeth. "Jesus, Judy!"
"Stop it, Dick. Let her in." Judy warns.
Dick hopped over the side of the car and spits out his gum. He quickly opens the door for Carolyn and smiles like a gentleman.
" 'Atta boy, Dick!" Jason remarked from the passenger seat.
Carolyn thanked Dick and climbed into the space made for her by Roxanne and Judy. Then, she squealed when she felt a leather glove slap her butt.
Carolyn's face was still red when the pink Chevy rolled into the parking lot of Bigg's Diner. She felt Roxanne's fingers blotting out some liner on her eyelids. "Remember what I told'ya? Less is more!" Roxanne pulled out a mascara wand from her purse and asked Carolyn to look up. As the wand's bristles combed her bottom lashes, she saw the clouds sailing aimlessly in the blue country sky.
"You girls ready yet? Ain't nobody in there, anyway." Dick motioned for his girlfriend, Judy, to light his cigarette.
"I'm just helping her with her makeup, the poor thing. Doesn't even know how to pick the right lipstick! Red's too bold, but she still looks so cute!" Roxanne laughingly pinched Carolyn's cheek. Carolyn winced at the sting of Roxanne's long, red nails. Roxanne filed her makeup products away."You're paying, right Jason?"
"Shut up, Roxanne! No one asked you all that, airhead." Judy and Dick eyed him, and then Jason shrugged the shoulders of his leather jacket. "Fine. I'll pay."
"You're the math team wiz, huh? So, put that 'ta good use." Dick playfully shoved Jason, who rattled backward with a jingle of metal buckles.
Jason swatted Dick's arm away and ran a hand through his jet-black pompadour. "You know I ain't in that no more." After a tense moment, he shouts at the girls to hurry up again.
The four shuffle inside the diner, and then an old cowbell clangs when the door slams behind them. They settle in one of the tables in the empty lobby.
Carolyn makes a move to drag a chair from another table for herself, but Jason beats her to it. He gives Carolyn a compassionate glance before lifting the chair to a space in between him and Roxanne.
Jason hands her a menu from in between the glass bottles of Tabasco and Heinz, but Carolyn shakes her head and almost laughs. She has it memorized, too. Everyone in town probably did. Jason smirked sheepishly, and then he continues his conversation with Judy about homecoming.
A burly, snowy-haired man in a white hat and apron emerges from the kitchen with an ash tray. "You read my sign out there, Dick?" He strode to the table, placed the ashtray in front of the soles of Dick's boots and crossed his arms.
Dick blew out a cloud of smoke from his cigarette. "Yeah. Did you read this?" Dick flicks him off, but Judy slaps his hand to his lap. Dick enjoys another long inhale and then squishes the cigarette butt in the tray. "Sorry, Biggs."
The diner owner walks back behind the counter with the tray, grunting about "kids these days".
"So, what do you want, Carolyn?" Jason turns to the short-haired girl beside him and gently nudges her quiet shoulders with his elbow.
Carolyn gulps at the feeling of eight eyeballs staring at her.
"If y'wanna hang with us, baby, 'ya gonna hav'ta speak up a whole lot more." Dick shook his head and grinned. "Now--" Dick swung his boots off of the table and leaned forward towards Carolyn. "--whadd'ya want?"
"A malt." Carolyn said.
"Vanilla?" Roxanne asks.
Carolyn nodded.
"Wanna hear something?" Dick glanced at the jukebox. Carolyn looked up at Dick's wide smile.
"Put on The Diamonds!" Roxanne squealed and bounced in her seat.
"Did anyone ask you, Roxie?" Dick shushed her and rolled his eyes. He turned back to Carolyn. "I'll spin anything y'want."
"...Joe Clay." Carolyn muttered.
"Alright! Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" He made his way to the jukebox and flipped through some albums. "Hey, Biggs!" He hollered over the empty ice-cream bar. "Got any Joe Clay back there?!"
A waiter eventually came out with a pad, a yellow pencil and a bright yellow album, "Rockabilly".
"I thought'chyall would have somethin' in the back!" Dick grinned excitedly at the album and snatched it from the waiter's hands. He dug inside for the vinyl, but then he stilled. He looked back at the waiter in shock. "Oh, hell no." When Dick looked back at the table, he saw that his gang was shocked, too.
"Biggs--who is this?!!" Dick roared into the back. The waiter let out a small sigh and walked towards the group. Dick stopped him. "You ain't gonna take our order--what're you doing? Biggs!"
"What?!" A hoarse, old voice snapped.
"You gonna let him take our order? Whadd'ya mean who--the nigger! Are you gonna let him take our order or what?!"
"It can't be helped--I needed hands. Siddown and shut up for once, will 'ya?!" Biggs yelled back. "Worse than your Pa."
"Aw--stuff it!" Dick laughed. His laughter dimmed as he watched Biggs scrub some pots ignorantly. Dick turned to the waiter and glared at him, grinding his jaw. He slid the Joe Clay vinyl into the jukebox. His squeaking boots echoed in the lobby alongside the blaring tunes from the music machine. Dick sat down slowly back in his chair.
The waiter in a white apron, a short sleeved tee and long jeans flipped idly through his pad for a new page. "What can I get for--"
"You ain't takin' my order." Dick grumbled, shaking his head.
The waiter blinked steadily and eyed Roxanne. "For you, miss?"
Roxanne spoke. "I want a cheeseburger with no onions." She didn't turn to look at the teen scribbling onto the pad.
Jason twirled a salt shaker during his slow reply. "Just...some water."
It was quiet enough to hear every loop of granite from the waiter's cursive. The uniformed teenager's dark brown orbs nestled on Carolyn. Carolyn gradually looked up at the waiter.
Although the waiter's large afro was his strangest feature, Carolyn felt pulled in by his angel-like eyes. They seemed to have a hidden wisdom that was much too old for his body, which was as lean as a male ballerino. The longer he stared at her, the faster Carolyn's heart raced.
"A vanilla malt." Carolyn replied.
"Hmm?" The waiter tensed an eyebrow.
"A vanilla malt." Carolyn repeated, sounding just above a whisper. "Michael."
Michael stopped writing and looked up from his pad in surprise. Then, he glanced at his nametag. He pocketed the pencil and paper in his apron and walked behind the counter.
Carolyn quietly watched him stroll into the kitchen. Michael lathered his hands in the sink with a bar of soap and rinsed them off. He toweled them dry, and then he looked through some cabinets. He put two different shaped glasses in front of him.
"Got it?" Jason said to Carolyn.
Carolyn turned away from her faint view of Michael and looked curiously at Jason. Joe Clay sang in the silence.
Jason rolled his eyes and groaned. "She's too chicken--I told you she was chicken!"
"Just take the malt and throw it--" Judy threw her hands at Roxanne's face. Roxanne jumped back and giggled. "--like that."
"Don't hesitate; you'll ruin it." Dick chuckled heartily and glanced over the counter.
Carolyn looked around nervously at each grinning face surrounding her.
"If you can't do it, don't bother coming around anymore. Damn the initiation." Jason's grin soured at Carolyn's hesitation. "I was startin' to like you, too."
Michael returned with a cheeseburger, a glass of water and a plain malt. He ignored some of their strange smiles and nodded. "Enjoy."
"Um..." Carolyn croaked. Michael halted. Carolyn gripped the sweating glass of her malt and stiffened. Then, in an insane burst of grit, she launched the cream into his face.
Roxanne, Judy, Jason and Dick started dying with laughter. Michael's figure is stunned in place at first, but he doesn't stay there long. He walked back briskly to the kitchen, wiping his face with his apron on the way.
A red-headed boy appears with a mop and a pail. On his way to the spill, he stops Michael to ask what happened, but Michael doesn't stop to reply. The boy quickly takes care of the mess as Michael walks into the back. The sudden, ear-shattering scolding from Biggs only fueled the laughter at the table.
"Chester, give 'er a new one--on me!" Dick chortled at the freckled waiter drying the table and then turned to Carolyn. "You're in, baby."
Jason briefly glanced at Carolyn's strained, polite smile and sipped on his water.
When Biggs finally kicked all of them out after closing, Carolyn stopped short of the bubble-gum pink Chevy. She thought it was nice of Jason to offer her a ride home, but she declined. She waved at Dick, Roxanne, Jason and Judy and walked carefully over the gaping potholes in the lot of Bigg's Diner. The Chevy's tires crackled past her heels on the asphalt and rolled into the street. Jason honked goodbye.
Carolyn felt queasy with regret again, and her stroll home slowed into a hesitant saunter. She hugged her books closer to her chest. All she wanted to do was go home and get as far away from the diner as she could.
"Stop."
Carolyn turned around quickly to the soft voice behind her, and then her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of Michael extending her brown corduroy sweater to her.
Carolyn swallowed remorsefully at the dried, cream-colored stain that remained on his uniform. She slowly accepted the sweater from his hand and rested it on top of her books. Michael's expression looked slightly pained but busy. Summer cicada flies buzzed loudly in the long silence between them. Then, Michael's jeans flashed quickly past Carolyn's view of her feet. Even in the blazing afternoon heat, Carolyn instantly felt as cold as ice. Carolyn gently lifted the sweater to her nose: the scent of Michaels hands were all over it. They smelled just like Bon-Ami and cherries.
She followed Michael to the warehouse storefront across the street. The screen door slammed shut after he disappeared inside. Carolyn halted at the sight of wet paint on the doorframe that spelled "Whites Only". Then, she pulled on the loose handle. The door's hinge slackened and screeched open, and then whacked the door frame again.
The aroma of wood, metal, oil, and dust along with the hum of fan lingered in the air. A little girl stopped tracing in a pile of sawdust on the front counter and beamed at Carolyn. Carolyn gave her a small smile, and then found Michael alone in the isle of nails, bolts and screws. Michael picked up different sizes of screws and rolled them very thoughtfully between his fingers. Michael met Carolyn's stare uncomfortably, but then he focused on the shelf again.
He filled a handful of the screws into his palm, and then he poured them onto the front counter. Carolyn trailed behind him. Michael pulled out a pencil-thin paintbrush from his back pocket and placed it on the counter, too.
"Why is your hair so big?" The girl behind the register grinned.
"You asked me that yesterday." Michael ran his hand along the fur of a grey tomcat sitting on the counter. It purred at his touch and its head curled into his palm. "How much?"
The girl's eyes squinted at the sprawled screws. "...One, two..."
Michael distracted himself from the six-year old's loud recital and observed Carolyn's fingernails tracing the hypnotic rings of circles of the counter's plywood. He stared at them briefly and then looked away.
Carolyn spoke. "I'm sorry."
Michael leaned closer to her. "What?"
"I'm sorry."
Michael's expression became even more strained. He thought intensely for a few seconds, and then he gave her a dismissive laugh. Carolyn felt her heart throb feverishly when Michael's chuckle rested into a wide, dazzling smile.
Suddenly, the tomcat trampled over the counter and curled itself into a ball by a glass jar of peppermints. The six year old started over. "One...two..."
Michael slapped a quarter on the counter and thanked her.
The pair left the store and walked down the creaky steps of its porch. The sun glowered above them in the silent, cloudy sky.
Michael's shoes meandered onto the sidewalk as he re-counted the 25 screws in his palm. He tucked the screws in his pants. A thud sounds on the sidewalk, and Carolyn quickly scoops up her fallen textbook. Michael sighs. "Give me 'em." Carolyn blushes at the touch of Michael's skin when he grabs her books.
Michael frowned. "I'm almost done fixing that birdhouse in those woods over there."
"Why?" A rare breeze ripples Carolyn's dress. She tucked some whipping strands behind her ear.
"It was all broken and ugly--just rotting."
The old birdhouse has been that way since the entire town could remember, but no one really paid it any attention. Carolyn waved at a familiar old man driving by in a truck. The man's wave weakened when he spotted Michael alongside her. His wrinkled head double-taked out of his window as his truck vanished around the corner.
"That's silly." Carolyn giggled.
Michael stopped. "Well, no one else is goanna fix it. You goanna fix it?" Michael sounded defensive. After a moment, the two kept walking. Carolyn watched the sidewalk roll without end under her heels. The cicada flies rang from the trees like a swarm of wasps. Michael wiped his forehead.
"Where'd you come from?" Carolyn asked.
"You're real quiet, girl." Michael interrupted. "Indiana."
"Will you stay?"
"Mind your own business."
"...But no one even goes to those woods." Carolyn mentions, thinking about his unusual project again.
Michael took some thoughtful steps along the sidewalk. "I go there...to think sometime."
"Why?"
Michael started to speak, but then his expression darkened. "None of your business. And don't you follow me no more." Michael dumped Carolyn's textbooks in her arms and briskly walked past her with a fat pocket of screws in his jeans and a paintbrush tucked behind his ear.