texaswildfire

June

I don't understand his logic.
We are a couple in 2008, not 1958.
I don't do bikes.
Not since I was six and Seth pushed me off mine.
I had to get stitches. Lots of them.

"Don't look at me like I'm crazy. You said this was what summer was all about, being free. This is my last real summer and I am very intent on dragging you through it with me," Marc says to me as he flicks the pink and white streamers on the bike that is, I think, supposed to be mine. "What's so wrong with this?"

"We aren't eight," I remind him. "People our age would kill for a car and you have one but you are so insistant on making us ride these bikes down to the park. What if I fall? Unlike you, I have to show my face at school come August."

He smiles.
I instantly conceed. Almost.
I know if I stay strong, even for one more second, he will have to try harder.
So I do.
And he does.

Marc slides between the bikes so his arms can fly around me.
He's much too good to pass up.
At least he wanted to do things with me.
Even if they were gay things like riding bikes to the park.

But, once I was on the bike and we were off, it didn't seem so bad.
How could it?
The heat was clouded out by a breeze.
My hair, I'm sure, looked super awesome flowing around me.
Best of all, not once did I falter with my balance.
I rode like a pro. Kinda.

We locked the bikes in the rack once at the park.
Marc kept the keys.
I am horrible at losing things. Obviously.

The park is empty save for a few young kids skateboarding.
It's a shame.
The day is perfect and everything looks so nice.
Inviting even.
The first thing we do is something simple; sit in the sand box.

We build horrible looking sand castles before we move to the swings.
Those are my favorite things in the world.
He likes the see-saw.
We spent all day there.
There was no need to leave with the vending machines by the rest areas.
Oh!
And the ice-cream truck.

At the most orange part of the day, we unlock our bikes and push them home.
We don't care that sand sticks to our clothes.
Nor do we mind that our colognes and perfumes have long worn off.
Summer is supposed to make you sweat.

"Did you have fun," Marc finally asks, pulling me from my mind.

"More fun than I thought I would. Was it everything you wanted it to be," I ask him back.

"It was close," he says. "Seriously, I would like to go back sometime soon. Next time we can leave when it's this part of the day. Assuming that you had a good enough time to go back. Can I assume that?"

"You are free to assume whatever you wish, but I would seriously love to go back. We don't even have to take the car," I tell him as we come to a stop between our fences. "What do we do now that we're home? Besides shower, I mean."

Marc slides his bike past him to rest it against the fence.
One of his bracelets almost gets caught around a handle.
I'm weird for noticing such random things.
Or too nervous, still, to notice him move so close to me.
He kisses my forehead.
Smooths my windblown hair down with both his hands.

Screw a shower.
I want to pull him up to my room.
Kiss him. Hug him. Make him really sweat.

"I need to narrow down all the people that submitted applications for my old job. There are sixty and Mr. Foster wants just five potential students," Marc tells me, breaking down my happiness. Only for a second. "The sooner I get them all sorted out, the sooner I can pick 5, the sooner Mr. Foster can take over and I can really, truly be free for a summer of bike rides, bomb pops and, well, just laying in bed making out. Okay?"

"Okay," I smile.

And so we kiss.
He takes the bikes back to his place.
I go into my house.
I move past my father on the couch and my mother in the kitchen.
All I want is a shower.

It won't be disturbed.
Seth and Jonah are both gone.
The house is too quiet without them.
I kind of miss Seth and Jonah yelling between their bedrooms.
In the hallway. In the back yard. The kitchen.
Everywhere really.

I take my wonderful shower.
45 minutes of steaming hot water and luxurious soap.
I put on pajamas pants and a tank top.
I can actually blow dry my hair.
And straighten it.
And, no one ever comes to bother me.

Well, no one does when I'm in the bathroom anyway.
My mother intentionally waits until I'm done to call me to dinner.
I can't get out of eating at the table.
She won't hear of it now that Jonah and Seth are gone.

"What did you and Marc get into today? I didn't think you'd be gone from practically dawn until dusk but...I hope you had a good time," my mother says, trying to initiate some kind of communication at the table.

My dad rolls his eyes.
He doesn't like it when my mom talks about Marc.
He almost hates it when she allows me to spend time with him.
Doesn't matter if I'm alone or not.
Certain events have scarred him.

"We just went down to the park," I tell them, putting to rest the fears that belong to my dad that I was just holed up in Marc's room going through the kama sutra. "You know, just played on the swings and stuff. Had ice-cream. Rode bikes. Stuff like that."

"That actually does sound fun, dear," my mother smiles.

"Better than having you stuck in the house with him," my father sighs.

"Oliver," my mother hushes him.

"Lisel, please. That is what she has been doing for the last week. Just spending all her time in her room, or his. We don't see her. And really, I don't think I like the fact that you are condoning her having sex with Jean-Marco," my father tells her, forgetting that I am even in the room.

We don't have sex all the time.
Not that we don't want to.
The house always has someone in it.
Mom is home.
His mom is home.
It would just be creepy.

Okay.
I shouldn't say that considering certain events.
But mom's pay attention.
Dad's rarely do.

"They aren't having sex," my mother fires back. "It's absolutely possible for the two of them to want to spend time together indoors. If you haven't noticed, it's 800 degrees outside. Did you see how sweaty she was when she came in? It's a miracle she didn't have a heat stroke from being out all day. Though, she does look a bit sunburned."

"You could come up with a million reasons for any little thing that comes up," my dad laughs. "Just...watch out for them. I don't want her to end up pregnant. Or with an STD. Or, well, have a combination of them. Do you hear me, Rose?"

I nod.
What else can I do?
There is no way I can say anything to that.
Even if I could, the words would fail completely or come out jumbled.
Either way, I'd be in trouble.

So, I sit through dinner.
My parents talk about all sorts of things I could care less about.
Dad is going on a business trip Friday.
Mom tells him that she is going to try to go shopping when he is.
She is still on about me getting 'good quality' clothes.

I don't want to do anything.
Wait.
That isn't true.
I want to just spend time with Marc.
Alone.
Don't care where it is, really.

I get stuck doing dishes after dinner.
But it's the price I pay for having complete solitude tonight.
Mom and dad go out for dessert and a drive.
Terribly romantic of dad.
Or so what people would think until they learn the dessert is from Dairy Queen.

Laying on the couch is my favorite thing in the world besides Marc.
I get to watch movies on a big screen, eat brownies and be lazy after a nice day.
How does it get better?
Mom and dad bring a sundae back for me.
I eat that in bed while browsing the internet.

Something happens though.
I get an IM from Seth.
I guess he broke grandma and grandpa down so they'd get him DSL.

Sethasaurus says: Miss me?

No.

Sethasaurus says: Don't miss you either. 'K. I do. Call me. I'm on dial-up.

Dial up is gay.

Sethasaurus says: Sure as fuck it is! Just call me.

I close my laptop, toss my empty sundae container into the trash and grab my phone.
I dial Seth's cellphone number.
He answers half way through "Miss New Booty."

"Hey, baby sister. I just got off the phone with Marc and...well, what are you doing tomorrow," he asks straight away.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me what I'm doing so that I don't have to guess," I tell him.

"Well, Marc has been wanting to talk to grandpa about his journalism awards and I asked him to come up," Seth says. "He doesn't have anything to do and he wants you to come up with him but doesn't know if you really want to or if you are content staying home. Without him. For two days."

The first sentence end doesn't bother me.
The second makes me start to think.
The third, well, that makes me want to go.

"Tell him I'll go," I tell Seth. "I just need to tell mom what's going on and throw some stuff in a backpack. What time does he want to leave in the morning? Do you even know?"

"Eight," comes Marc's voice on the line. "Be ready. And, don't be so shocked. Every single phone has three-way calling these days. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you tomorrow night," Seth chimes in.

I hang up.
The phone goes on the charger and I bounce down to the kitchen where my mom is.
She's happy with the idea.
Dad isn't.
Mom and I overrule him.
Like always.
I will be, happily, stuck in a car with Marc for nine hours tomorrow.
I can't wait.