Relief, Disappointment

A flash flood of love and a surge of need so deep it went way beyond the monster.

"Please, Chase? I have to know what it's like when two people really want to."

And you will. I will take you to heights you can't imagine. But not until you've healed.

I didn't understand. Go ahead.

Call me dense. "It's only a few bruises, Chase."

I meant not until you're free from dreams of yesterday.

When we make love, the only people there should be you and me.

He was right. Adam lingered on my nightstand. Brendan would haunt me, a shadow, for days.

When you've vanquished your ghosts, I'll be here. Besides, sweetheart, antic.i.p.ation is half the fun.

I could only hope the other half might one day be as wonderful.

With Chase, it seemed possible.

Meanwhile, I'd better go before your parents get back. Want to go outside for a smoke?

Soft drifts of nicotine filled my lungs, soothing one hunger.

Chase held me close.

Funny thing, Kristina. Before you, I believed love was making love.

Waiting only makes me love you more.

Powerful Words

Strong enough to latch on to me, bear the weight and lift me, induce buoyancy, float me in a brilliant, blue sky above the reach of personal demons.

So peaceful, in the canopy, beyond distress and self-incrimination. I wanted to stay there forever.

Impossible of course. Chase drove away and almost immediately, fantasy dissolved, like sugar stirred into salt.w.a.ter, as the real world clamped down around me, slammed me back down to Earth.

Tried to Beat Mom Inside

but she was right on my heels as I went through the door.

Who is that boy who just left?

Busted. I had to tell her something, so I said, "A friend."

What kind of friend?

"My best friend," I wanted to say.

"My only friend." I just stared.

I asked you a question.

Okay. I'd tell her what she didn't want to hear. "Chase is my boyfriend."

Boyfriend? He's hardly your type.

Anger bubbled. I gritted my teeth.

"I don't have a type, Mother."

Well, at least someone good-looking.

Like Chase wasn't, she meant.

And, "You mean like Brendan."

Exactly. What happened to Brendan?

I was prepared. "We didn't really hit it off." Understated, huh?

But he was so nice, so polite.

I tried to bite my tongue. Didn't work.

"He wasn't so nice, Mom."

What do you mean?

"He was ..." I paused, "all over me."

She looked at me without sympathy.

Why didn't you tell me before?

I took dead aim. "I didn't think you'd care. Apparently, I was right."

Leveled

Have you ever actually felt one up on your mom? What an exhilarating feeling.

She stuttered, coughed, couldn't say a word because somewhere inside she knew she was wrong.

So I pushed even harder. "You always told me not to judge a book by its cover.

Practice what you preach, Mom."

Two cliches don't exactly make for deep conversation, but I didn't expect that (or want it) anyway.

I started for my inner sanctum. Paused.

"I mean look at you and me. On the surface, we both seem so normal!"

Her face contorted, emphasizing every wrinkle.

"Take a peek inside our family alb.u.m.

Like what's in there?"

Do you think that was mean? I guess, but it felt so great, it made me grin.

Sort of sick, or what?

Light-Headed

Giddy from my absolute bl.u.s.ter (not to mention lack of food and a big dose of nicotine), I skipped up the hall, singing a Queen song about paying dues and doing time, no crime committed. Oh, that Freddie Mercury. What a waste!

That guy was really something-a rebel and worse.

In a day when it was supposed to be okay to experiment that way. No condoms, just good gay fun. We know better now.

As I thought about that, I had to wonder: What will we know better about tomorrow?

Who cares? Hindsight is useless.

Even looking back now, things seem a bit muddled.

Northern Nevada Autumns

are filled with weeds.

Toxic, high-allergen garden killers.

Tumbleweed.

Rabbitbrush.

Russian white top.

Guess how I spent that Sunday.

Wound up on Claritin enhanced crank, it wasn't so bad.

Yank. Think.

Tug. Consider.

I would put Adam's letter in the mail.