At the hop

Put me in your suitcase; let me help you pack
'Cause you're never coming back, no you're never coming back…

Who would have thought, a tough guy like Ace Merrill, crying over a broad? Take it back a couple of years, and I would have broken someone's nose for even suggesting it. I'm a ladies' man; breaking hearts is what I do. Yet here I am, with my heart torn straight down the middle. I'm begging. When has a Merrill ever begged? Never. Yet here I am.

She claws more clothes from their hangers; ripping dresses and blouses from the wardrobe without even paying attention to what she's doing. She stuffs them into her old suitcase, cramming them on top of one another in an angry frenzy. Tears run down her red cheeks; she would wipe them away but she's too busy packing, and it would cause more pain to explode from the ugly bruise circling her eye.

I beg her to stay.

My mind flashes back to how I came to love Norah Brown.

November of 1959

Cook me in your breakfast, and put me on your plate
'cause you know I taste great, yeah you know I taste great…

I sat with Eyeball and Vince in Rory's Diner. The harsh yellow light above us stung my eyes, and since I was already in a shit mood, it began to seriously jack me off. Why Eyeball has insisted we came there was beyond me- Rory's is normally full of queers and kids. 'Then again,' I thought to myself 'Eyeball is both.' I snickered. Eyeball looked up, but didn't say anything. He knew I was pissed, and didn't want to be in the firing line of my fury.

That faggot Lachance and his bunch of cock-knockers had interfered once again. No matter how many beatings they got, they just wouldn't quit. That body should have been ours back in the summer. Not that I was bothered about the stupid Browers kid- I just hated to lose. Especially in front of the Cobras. And now those smart asses where swaggering around thinking there great because there in High school. 'When I get my hands on that Lachance kid…'

'Can I take your order?' The abrupt voice made us all look up. Eyeball looked the waitress up and down, and grinned what he thought was a winning smile. It made him look a bit backwards. Not that I blamed him, the girl was hot. Firstly I noticed her cracking set of knockers, her smooth hips and tiny waist. She cleared her throat, making me focus on her face. She was pretty, I guess. Pale, with wide chocolate eyes and dark arched eyebrows. Her wavy brown hair was loose around her shoulders.

'Are you fools going to just sit there, or actually order something?' She inquired mockingly.

I scowled. Her tone didn't suit her timid face, and no one spoke to me like that.

'I think you're confused, ma'am,' I spat. 'The only fool here standing right in front of me. Don't you know who we are?'

Eyeball tensed up, sensing trouble. Vince shifted uncomfortably. The stuck up waitress glared at me steadily.

'Look, just make an order. This is my second day working at this shit hole and I don't fancy any trouble that will land me getting fired, 'kay?'

I was shocked for a moment, and then I grinned in triumph. I was expecting a screaming reply, maybe even a slap. She was just as much of a push over as she looked. So I thought.

Light me with your candle and watch the flames grow high
No it doesn't hurt to try, it doesn't hurt to try

A few weeks after the cafeteria incident it was bonfire night. The Castle Rock Council where having a Bonfire and setting off fireworks on the large field by the Royal River. Bonfire night meant one thing- to get wasted and get laid. In this shithole of a town, we relied on faggot events like this. The Cobras and I boosted a car and drove it down the back of Carlo Road. We got our beers, left the car and walked down to the Royal. It was jam packed. Mostly kids our age- adults gave these events a wide birth.

One of the guys passed around a joint. Charlie Hogan took a huge suck on it, and dropped it choking and spluttering. That set the whole mood for the night. We laughed, made passes at chicks, and even set a guys shirt on fire. Some dick called Duchamp- I think it was one of Lachance's little queer friends.

By the time the fireworks stared I was high as a kite. I watched the colours explode on the black sky. They looked like flowers- huge flowers blooming then fading away. I sighed in contentment. Then all of a sudden, they began to look like bruises. I frowned. Bruises? Jesus I was high. They grew, becoming uglier and uglier. My pupils struggled to regain focus. They looked like the bruises that used to grow on Moms face. The ones she used to lie about to my Grandparents, telling me it was our little secret where the bruises came from, and what a naughty boy I would be if I told. In truth, my shithead of a Father was beating the shit out of her. Wait- where where those thoughts coming from? I hadn't thought about Mom in years. I was gonna kill Billy for giving me a dodgy joint.

I staggered away. The boys called after me, but I replied with my middle finger. I had to get away from this shit. Bonfires littered the field, the yellow flames making the shapes of skulls and torn faces. That dope was sending me crazy. I closed my eyes to get a hold of myself. It was embarrassing- Ace Merrill couldn't handle a bit of dope.

'Hey, are you alright?' A voice came from beside me and a small hand grasped my arm. I opened my eyes to find myself staring at the stuck up waitress.

'Come on, Merrill- let's get you out of here.'

Back in the present

Put me in your blue skies or put me in your gray
There's gotta be some way, there's gotta be someway

The suitcase is closed- and so is our discussion. Her minds made up. I have no one to blame but myself- the only thing she had ever asked of me that that I didn't lay hands on her. And yet there she is with a swollen eye and her I am with bruised knuckles. Shame seeps through my bones. It happened so quickly. One minute we were arguing over something… what was it? I strain to remember. She had mentioned my Mother. My Mom.

The connection of fist on face had made a sickening sound. She had flown backwards, her tiny body landing in a heap on the ground. This had happened half an hour ago; after quarter of an hour of locking herself in the bathroom, she ran into our bedroom and began packing.

'Please,' I beg as she hauls the suitcase from the bed. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just lost it for a second! Please, let me look at it, baby.'

She snorts sadly. 'Look at it? You can see it from there, baby. Do you feel big now? You feel like a man? You son-of-a-bitch.'

'I feel like a bastard. Please, we can t-talk about this! You can't leave now!'

'Watch me,' she replied coldly. 'I should have known… The day in the diner, then finding you high at that bonfire, every fiber of my being told me you where bad news.' She sighs.

'But when have I ever listened to my better judgment? Here I am with a drunken husband and a black eye'.

We have made it to the front door. My insides are screaming that I'm losing her; and I know, once she steps over that threshold I've lost her forever.

She turns slowly, and my heart lifts.

'Look in the mirror Ace. I think you'll see someone you know'

She opens the door, and she's gone.

Wrap me in your marrow, stuff me in your bones
sing a mending moan, a song to bring you home

I turn slowly in the hallway to face the large chipped mirror. Tucked around the inside of the frame are memos, things like 'Remember hair appointment' and 'Call Dad back'. There are photos of me and Norah at the funfair last June; we must have been in that photo booth for over an hour. A few of Norah's hair ribbons hand down over the smooth surface, and I remember her doing her hair there in the mornings. And there, right in the middle, staring back at me, is my Father.

One last memory

'You've been messing around for weeks now,' I hissed. 'When will you admit you're my girl?'

'Ace, I'm not anyone's girl' Norah shifted, uncomfortable under my angry gaze. 'Where just having fun, 'aint we? I thought that was you style. I didn't take you to be the girlfriend kinda guy.'

She blinked up at me. She truly was tiny, below my shoulders, and I liked to use it to my advantage when she was being stubborn. Which she usually was.

'Norah… I think there's only one way to get you to belong to me.'

'Don't fuck about, Ace.'

'I'm serious… marry me.'

She almost doubled up with laughter. Not the reaction I was going for.

'Marry- marry you?' she spluttered. 'Ace, you barley know me!'

'Sure I do. I know you like chocolate sodas, and you can't stand strawberry. You favorite song's Hushabye by The Mystics. I know you wrinkle your nose when you're mad. I know you pull faces at me when you think I'm not looking. You can only sleep on your back, with one leg out of the covers. You hate people blowing bubbles with their gum. You adore funfairs. You hate your job. And you love me.'

Norah's eyes budged.

'And the rest,' I whispered, picking up her hand and kissing it 'I have a lifetime to find out.'

She closed her eyes a sighed. She pulled her hand from mine. For a moment I thought she was going to slap me, then she put it around my neck and pulled herself up for a kiss. I complied happily.

'Promise me one thing, Ace,' She said soberly, pulling away.

'Anything,' I sighed contently.

'I'll marry you, if you promise me something.'

I waited nervously.

'Never hurt me.'

I smiled and pulled her in for another kiss, as a sign of my promise.