“Still awake?” he asked. I heard the grin in his voice.
“Yeah, but I need some sleep.”
Quiet fell between us, and my mind tensed for a second; the quiet was nothing like the huge spaces that opened up between Susan and I. This was closer; warmer. I didn’t feel like I had to fill this. I could leave it. I decided to. I became aware that my hand was over Kevin’s, both resting on my chest.
“Was this the first time for you—?” he asked.
“What?”
“First time you—you know?” Kevin whispered.
“I don’t—I don’t know, really. I hadn’t—umm—I hadn’t thought about it,” I answered. I heard him inhale and then exhale. I felt his hot breath against my neck and down my back. “Let’s—let’s talk about it some other time,” I said.
He didn’t say anything, but pulled me to him again. I felt his hands clasp themselves tighter around my chest, and his lips caressed the back of my neck. I felt my skin prickle. He kissed me on my neck exactly on top of one of the bumps of my spine. His hand began to play with my hair in long, slow strokes. My feet were warm. Every tiny touch moved through my entire body. We drifted off together like that. I have never slept that good before or since.
Somewhere in my sleep, I began walking down Hitt road. The edges of everything were blurry, and I remember thinking to myself “I’m dreaming,” only, it didn’t feel that way at all. I kept getting that feeling as though I were being watched. I felt very peaceful, though. My feet were carrying themselves along without any guidance, and I could focus on the crickets and how bright they sounded. I focused on how the sky was a deep blue at this time of night. My feet hit the asphalt with a steady pulse.
Just up ahead, I saw the stop sign and the four way where Hitt road crossed over Shelby. I said “Old highway 80” out loud, because that’s what Mr. Roger had always called it. He’d get this confused look on his face whenever anyone mentioned Shelby until you called it “old 80;” then his face would relax, and he’d nod.
As I stepped out into the road, I saw that someone was coming south on Hitt. It seemed like a bicycle. Even in the darkness, I could make out the rider’s pumping legs. I stood at the exact center of the four way, and waited. I’d always wanted to do that, but had never gotten up the courage. The bicycle got closer, and after a few minutes I noticed that it was my bike. I looked around for my bike, feeling like I’d just left it a second ago, lying on its side near the stop sign. There was nothing there, though, when I looked. The bike rider was closer every second, and I could already hear the wind rushing through the spokes. “Hey!” I wanted to call out, “that’s my bike!” but I said nothing.
Whoever was riding the bike was accelerating. The bike was flying at me. I honestly felt like I should move, or be run over. The moment I stepped aside, the bike whistled past me. Funny thing is that, at that exact second, everything went slow motion. I watched as the rider went by me, and felt the wind over my whole body.
The rider’s legs were long, and the torso lean. His shoulders were broad, and his neck long. His jaw was strongly angled, and his hair thick black. When he passed by, the smell of jasmine came over me. He seemed oddly familiar, though I’d never seen him before. I remember thinking to myself I should call out, get my bike back, but I didn’t know what name to call.
I grabbed for the bike to try and stop him. He turned to me with the blurry face of dream creatures, but I knew it was him. I knew he was angry at me for stopping him. He said “I’m just a message,” and tried to pedal away. I wanted desperately to ask him what he meant by that, but instead I felt myself let him go as I said “Be home for dinner,” for no reason. I watched him as he stood up to get more leverage. He and the bike flew off and I thought of a Valkyrie. I watched and watched, my head tilted up into the night sky.
Not that I opened my eyes, though; I became aware that the black space I was in was just my eyelids shut over my eyes. I wasn’t watching Randy anymore and something, something, was important about that. I had to—to—to do something? I was busy inside, trying to figure out what that was. The slow motion ended and, when I looked down again, I wasn’t at the four way anymore. I was standing in front of Delany Hospital. I watched as the boy parked my bike, locked it, then walked inside.
For a second, he stopped at the door, and turned around. He looked almost dead at me, and smiled. That’s when I woke up. The morning light had grown a bit more blue and less gray. I could tell it was getting later. I knew I had things to do, though. I just wanted another hour or so. The second I closed my eyes, I opened them again.
I had taken that long to sink in that the boy on the bike was Randy. Don’t ask me how I knew, I just did. Dreams are like that.
I couldn’t remember which was the real world. I thought I should close my eyes to get back to reality; that it was bad for me to sit and lounge in a world so wrong. Then I realized. It seemed so vivid; the smell of the rubber tires, the rusted red bike, everything. I felt guilty for being away from Randy when he needed me to help him—help him—help him do something, but I couldn’t remember what it was. I seemed so important just seconds ago, though. I should remember, I thought, in a way. I was still very confused, buzzing inside.
The buzzing slowed down gradually. Names came back for the things I was looking at: alarm clock, window, clothes basket, etc. I cooled off inside. Everything in me slowed down.
I came awake slowly and realized I was alone. Kevin wasn’t in the room. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, and looked around. The covers on the other side of the bed were rumpled and pushed back from the edge. I put my head back down on the pillow, wondering if he’d ever really been in the room with me at all. The door opened.
A jet of cold air burst in behind Kevin. For a stark second, his nearly naked body framed by the lamps above the highway and the golden yellow of the porch light. He closed the door, putting his hands up to his shoulders and rushing to the bed. He wiggled out of his jeans as he came, and sat down hard. He scrambled under the covers and immediately searched for my body with his hands. When they touched my skin, I jumped before I could stop myself.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“You’re hands are cold,” I said. He pulled me to him, his hands around my ribcage. His chest against my back. His skin warmed fast. Our feet tangled around each other. I shivered once, as my body cooled, then warmed with his.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Where’d you go?” I asked, feeling his lips and nose against the back of my neck.
“I needed a cigarette.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know he smoked.
“You’re so warm,” he said, nuzzling against me. He pressed his hips into mine from behind, and his stubble tickled against my shoulder. I started for a moment; I wanted to stay in the bed; the two bodies had made it warm in that way only two bodies can. I also wanted to run, to get away from this close feeling.
“I was worried for a second,” I said.
“Why?” he asked.
“I thought maybe I’d—,” I said, but let it drift off.
“You thought that maybe you’d what?” His words tasted like smoke mixed with the sweet smell of fresh sex. His hands roamed my chest, and I found myself relaxing as his fingers warmed.
I closed my eyes. “I thought that maybe I’d dreamed it.”
He laughed under his breath. I knew his eyes were closed, too. We stayed like that for a time, my breathing slowly coming to match his. His hands found themselves along my chest and clasped. He was nuzzled against me so close that it seemed as though we were the same person. I felt warm and heavy. My eyelids drifted downward.