Memorizing You (30 page)

Ryan’s demeanor was going through a change. It would never be noticed in anything he said, or how he treated me. It was all the things that would remain nebulous. He knew the gaps he’d left behind had been filled. He knew who was in those spots, could $ Wy actually see the effects of that relationship, no matter how platonic, every time I walked through the door. These were moments, had the cosmic forces been in tune, that should have been ours to share. He felt shut out. Like an outsider. I knew that.

No matter where I went, whomever I encountered, the first question asked had his name in it. It was like they needed reassurance he was still there as well. Still a part of my life. And as nice as it was for them to care, it left me troubled. Troubled because I knew that empty spot was growing visibly discernible outside the spectrum of my own life.

I’d woke one morning alone in Ryan’s bed. I found him in his garden, barefoot, in his shorts, digging with a trowel, planting some marigolds. His mind was far away. He never heard my approach. The sun had barely peeped in the sky with some gold clouds.

“Looks nice,” I said.

It did. Every year it was different. He planted new arrangements, and they were always beautiful.

Fingers covered in dirt, he paused. “Thanks.”

“Felt like getting out early and working, huh?” It was my way of asking if anything was wrong without directly asking it.

“Yeah.”

The word hung so long in the air by itself, I knew that it was inappropriate to ask anything else. I sat for a while thinking maybe he would make an effort at conversation, but he didn’t. Then I knew it was time to leave before his tutor made her entrance. I waited at the sidewalk for a good-bye kiss that never happened. He never looked up from the garden. I walked home feeling more vacuum take its place in the gap.

It’s human nature in occurrences like this for us to ask ourselves if we’ve done anything wrong; if we brought this about. But I knew that drifting void between us had been created by his dad. I knew his melancholy arose from being recognized as ‘a gap’. I hadn’t done anything to purposely make him jealous, to offend or make him feel replaced. He knew no one could replace him in my heart. But all those pieces were there in spite of me. If I talked about my runs, it reminded him that someone else ran alongside me. If I talked about my workout, it brought back memories of how he first taught me. And as I physically altered in front of his eyes, he knew it wZ. aupas because of my absence, and it surprised him.

The end of summer drew near once again, and with it, inevitable transition. Football practice would soon be on us again. I’d be losing my workout buddy, and Dad and I would soon be losing a half dozen employees. I’d have more gaps to fill.

During one of the breaks in our workouts, Connor was nosing through another one of the muscle magazines when he came across something that attracted his attention. A very small advertisement for a Midwest amateur bodybuilding show. It wasn’t much. Just a few paragraphs near the back of the magazine, but it fueled his excitement.

“That’s what you need to do.” He pushed the magazine in my hand. “You would be great for that.”

“Me?” Why me? Why don’t you do it?” I wondered.

He was taller, had more muscle mass. He seemed the obvious choice for something like a bodybuilding contest.

“Because I’ll be playing football, dumbass. This will give you a goal while I’m busy at practice and playing. If you have a goal, you won’t slack off on the workouts.”

I looked at the ad again. “But I’m not a bodybuilder. I don’t look like any of these guys in these magazines. They’re huge.”

He pointed at the specific word in the article. “Hence, amateur.”

I read it again. This time it had more appeal.

“It only costs twenty five bucks to enter. But look. First place can win a thousand dollars. Hell, fourth place is still two hundred bucks. This is the Midwest. You probably could beat all the guys we got in this state just like you are.”

That was an unexpected bit of flattery. I looked in the mirror. The contest was in four months. I had made most of my changes in just that amount of time. I could probably double that before the time of the event. There was a charge in my enthusiasm.Z. aup

“You think?” I wondered aloud.

“Just read the magazines. Do what they say. It’s all about diet and discipline. You could probably put on another good thirty pounds of muscle by then. You could be gigantic!” He pointed to my reflection. “You’d be amazing.”

He grabbed the magazine back from me and skimmed through a few pages. He pointed to one. “You’re gonna need some trunks like these guys. You could have your friend design you some crazy-ass trunks.”

I looked at the pictures of the huge men posing. The trunks barely covered anything at all. I remembered the first time Judy had handed me the bottom of a bikini as a make-shift swimsuit. It was almost like a sign.

He knew I’d made up my mind without me saying it. “Yeah! That’s my man!”

After dinner, Connor returned to the house to help me carry out my plan.

“Did you get what we need?”

He patted the wallet-bulge in his back pocket. “My brother came through for me as usual.”

We made the walk to Ryan’s house a little after nine in the evening. I could see as we approached that his mother was still there. We could see her moving through the kitchen window. Rather than use my spare key, we went to the backdoor and knocked. She was surprised to see the two of us. So was Ryan. He invited us in. We invited him out. He found that intriguing. So did his mom. She watched through the window as we walked him out to the darkness of the garden.

The garden was fragrant and alive with the sound of crickets that suddenly hushed as our footfalls stepped inside. We shared the old tree stump as a stool.

“So, what do I owe for the pleasure of your company?” Ryan looked between the two of us. “What’s the occasion?”

“When $>That produced the first smile I’d seen on Ryan’s face in weeks. “You guys! My mom’s right there in the house. She can see us through the damned window!”

Conner lit the joint, dismissing Ryan’s objection with a wave of his hand. “She’s probably thinking we’re having a mutual jerk-off session. Moms don’t come out for those.”

We all took turns on the thinly rolled cigarette. In the dim light, I could see Ryan’s face relax at last.

“So, what’s the real deal you guys are here,” he asked. “You don’t need me to smoke a joint.”

That brought a lift of brows from Connor. “Whataya mean don’t need? Ya lost me.”

“You guys are doing just fine without me. You didn’t have to come all the way here to smoke some dope.”

“We wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you. You’re the one that brought us all together. You’re the one that got us all doing what we’re doing. What’s this bullshit about us not needing someone who made the whole thing come together in the first place? You fall nose-first on your chopsticks or something? Or, you just suddenly like pissing in the pity pot?”

He was quiet. Connor handed the joint back to him. I could see his eyes were moist.

I was high by the third hit. Ryan was kidding us about our shaved legs. Connor had to tell him the story of our shower kiss like it was the alternative version of
Gone with the Wind
. Gone with a real wrong wind. By the time he was done, we were all laughing so hard we had to pee. Which we did behind the tree. Ryan stood between us.

“You know, you guys are making me feel like small fry now,” he commented.$>“Blame it on yourself. You were our coach,” Connor said, zipping himself and sniffing the air. “Is that food I smell?”

I could smell it too. Something frying. Something good. I realized I was hungry. Very hungry.

“I think my mom must have cooked something,” Ryan walked toward the back porch door like an invisible beacon drew him in.

We followed him inside as his mom was putting the finishing touches on three plates of sandwiches.

“My favorite,” Ryan exclaimed. “Spam sandwiches.”

His mom placed the condiments on the table. “Bread and butter pickles, catsup, and mustard.”

We drifted to the places set for us like we were hypnotized.

“How’d you know?” he asked.

“Well, I could tell that wasn’t a Pall Mall you were smoking out there, and I thought I’d beat the last call on orders at the diner.”

The shock must have registered on all our faces simultaneously.

“What? You thought your mom doesn’t know the smell of pot?” she almost appeared insulted. “Your father’s the Republican. I voted for Kennedy the first time Nixon showed his gangster puss on a ballot. My sister and I were smoking weed when Elvis was still a blond. Hell, if I was your age, I’d be burning draft cards and bras myself!” She thought about that a second, and then amended it. “Well, maybe not the bras. An old issue of Cosmo would do. Don’t need to hear anymore of how a wife should please her man.”

We dug into the sandwiches. They were incredible. I’d never had Spam before. Everything tasted spectacular.

“Thanks, Mom!”

Our thanks followed his. She smiled.

“If you need more to munch on, there’s some Rold Gold and Old Vienna’s in the cabinet. I’m headed over to my sis’s.”

Ryan headed to the cabinet for the chips. She stopped him midway, picked up her small handbag from the counter, and unsnapped it. She reached inside, handed him a rolled joint that was twice the size of the one that Connor’s brother had given us.

“This is the good stuff,” she said, pecking the cheek on his astonished face. “Don’t break anything.”

Cheeks stuffed, we watched her departure with a newfound appreciation.

We shared his mother’s ‘gift’ on the back porch. We saw the half-moon go from large and gold to a small speck of white in a field of glitter. We went from being in awe of the silence of nature, to the need for music.

We danced for hours to all kinds of music. From Ryan’s albums of Jefferson Airplane to his mom’s Sinatra LPs.

Connor was sitting on the floor sorting through the records for the next one to play while Ryan and I slow danced to some Perry Como. We were kissing when we heard his slurred voice.

“Oooh…that is soo gay.”

We glanced down at him sitting cross-legged and blood-shot eyed with a Tom Jones album suspended in midair.

“I am so jealous,” he finished his thought after much deliberation.

“Why are you jealous?” Ryan inquired.

“Because I’m incognito.”$; y fy

We both looked at him like he was delirious.

“Incognito means no one knows you,” Ryan explained.

“Exactly.”

“I think you mean because no one is with you.”

“That too.”

We found an open bottle of wine in the refrigerator. One of those super large bottles. Red. It didn’t taste bad. We drank it dry. Danced some more. Then raided the refrigerator for more food.

I was the first one to awaken the next morning. The sun was coming through Ryan’s bedroom window. He was nose down, tangled in sheets like he’d wound them around himself. I was in my underwear with a pillow tucked between my legs.

“Wow. I do not remember coming in here!”

I heard Connor’s voice before his head popped up beside me from the floor on the side of the bed. His hair was propped up, the wrong way. He had the imprint of a belt buckle on his cheek. He was lying on a pile of wadded clothes.

“Hey!” he said when he saw me.

He rose, started rummaging through the pile of clothes, looking for his own. He found his shirt, pulled it on. Then his shorts. He kept picking up things, turning them over, digging through more stuff, searching.

Ryan woke up when Connor tripped into the bed. It was like an earthquake when his butt touched down on the mattress and catapulted back up.

“What are you doing?” the side of his face asked from the crush of pill anyone who thought theyinImyow.

“Looking for my socks.”

“You didn’t wear any,” I reminded him.

He looked at me like he doubted me. Thought for a second. Eyed his black Converse high-tops in the corner.

“Well, there ya go,” he said, slipping his bare feet in his shoes.

“What time is it?” I asked, seeing he still had his watch on.

It took him a bit to focus on the hands. “Six oh five. Six.”

“Can you guys keep it down?” Ryan complained. He pulled the pillow around his head.

Connor stumbled back to the bed and tugged at the pillow between my legs. “Did you guys have sex?” he asked.

I pulled the pillow back away from his hand. “What?”

“That would really tick me off if you guys had sex and I didn’t get to watch. ‘Cause I got a hundred questions about how that goes down.”

I looked at him like he was nuts. “What?” I repeated the question.

“Did I just hear him say he wants to watch us have sex?” Ryan asked from beneath his pillow.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t his dad hide Playboy’s under the bed like ev$ing roomy fy eryone else?”

“I know how that sex works. I’ve done it.”

“Okay, fine,” Ryan’s hand waved in the air. “I’m trying to sleep. Rain check on the sex watching thing.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Our last hurrah for summer was a small party we threw for the football players who’d be returning to practice. Dad finally got to do his barbeque in the backyard, play some touch with the guys, pretend he was a teenager for a while. We held it later so that Ryan could make it after his dad left. It felt great to have him included back in the crowd. Connor and Rosemary joined the group to round it out perfectly.

Ten people went through thirty burgers and franks, three bowls of potato salad, slaw and baked beans, two bowls of cherry Jell-O with fruit cocktail, and seven gallons of Velvet Freeze. Mom just kept the pitchers of ice tea and Kool-Aid coming.

The evening ended with Dad’s usual penny game of gin rummy. The table was full this time. The big winner was Connor who walked away with a whole dollar.

I hadn’t seen Ryan look that content in a long while. It was nice for him to feel like he belonged again. His friends were glad to have him back, even though the next week they’d all be in practice.