The You I've Never Known(30)

“Not exactly. It’s just you have this strange effect on me, and I was wondering if you cast spells in your spare time.”

If I do, it’s my secret.

But I’m curious about this strange effect.

Care to elaborate?

“Better not. Anyway, there’s the house.”





Gabe Steers the GTO


Into the driveway, pulls close

to the walk, stops the car.

When he turns in his seat

to look at me, the orange

rings in his eyes almost glow,

and I think maybe he actually

is a creature born of magic.

“Thanks for the ride. And for

the adventure.” I should exit

the automobile, go on inside,

but suddenly I don’t want him

to leave. Can’t stand the idea

of spending the evening alone.

As a way to delay the inevitable, I ask, “Would you like to come in for a little while? To talk, that is.”

Don’t want him to get the wrong

idea, not that he’s ever offered anything more than conversation.

I’d like to, but what about your dad? He’s probably expecting me back any minute now.

“He can’t know how long it

took for the ambulance, or

getting Niagara home. Besides,

he and Zelda are probably . . . tied up.”

Both of them? He grins at my puzzled look. That was a little bondage humor and, yes, I realize it’s not a pretty picture, so try to unsee it.

But if you think we can get away with it, I’d like to keep you company for a while.

He follows me to the door, so close behind I feel his breath, warm

through my hair to the skin of my neck, sparking delicious little shivers.

What’s going on? Is this me?

Dad turned down the heat

before we left, and the air inside is almost as cold as outside.

I dial up the thermostat, kick off my shoes, ask Gabe to do the same.

“My dad insists. Says it’s the only way to keep the floor clean enough not to vacuum. Just so you know, I vacuum anyway.” I gesture toward the living room. “Go sit and try to stay warm. Want something to drink?”

He shrugs. Sure. Whatever you’re having is fine, except I don’t drink soda. It’s poison.





Rules Out


Jack Daniel’s and Coke, I guess, not that I should be drinking with Gabe.

So why is that exactly what I want to do? I go check out Dad’s alcohol stash. He’s got a big bottle of some generic rum, maybe two-thirds full.

I think I can get away with swiping a little. Hot drinks, that’s what we’ll have. I microwave two mugs of water, add single shots (okay, big single shots) of cheap liquor, taste. Yech!

Add sugar. Taste. Much better, if still not great. Dash of cinnamon, dab

of butter. Hot buttered rums, and

I’m sticking to that. I carry them into the other room, where Gabe has

planted himself on the sofa. Luckily he chose the not-sagging end.

I offer a mug. “You can only have one, since you have to drive eventually.

You’re not into prohibition, are you?”

I don’t imbibe very often, but we’ve got something to celebrate today, don’t we? Plus, it’s still cold in here.





I’m Thinking


His reference to a celebration was about Hillary, though we still have no clue what’s up with her.

“I wish I knew how she’s doing.

You probably have a better idea about that than I do, though.”

Not really. He sips his drink.

Mmm. Not bad. You do this often?

“Do what? Make drinks?”

Not just make them, but invite guys in to share them with you when you’re sure your dad’s away.

I almost snort out the liquid

in my mouth. “Dude, you are, in fact, the very first guy I’ve invited into this house, or any place

we’ve lived. Are you kidding me?”

I must sound as hurt as I feel, because he apologizes ASAP.

Oh God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Holy crap. Twice in one day! It was supposed to be a joke. Obviously I’m not as funny as I think I am. Forgive me?

He’s so sincere, what can I do but say, “Of course I do, and I’m sorry, too. Apparently I never developed a viable sense of humor. My dad thinks he’s funny, but only

when he’s drunk. So maybe

I should just drink more.”

I do, and the hot crawl down

my throat feels pretty damn

great. In fact, it opens my mouth.

“Listen, Gabe, and if this is TMI, just tell me to shut up, okay?

Between moving so much and

Dad overprotecting me, until

we came to Sonora I’ve never

had friends, so I was also denied any kind of deeper connection.

Inviting a guy—or a girl, for

that matter—to share drinks,

or weed, or a kiss, or more, has never even been a consideration until now, and it’s all so new I have no clue how to deal with it.

I have zero experience. Truth is, I’m operating totally on instinct.”





And Now I Need More to Drink