Mike Wheeler lay on the pillows on his bed, a book open in his right hand and his left arm around Jane's shoulders. She stroked his fingers on his left hand as he spoke softly.
"…Our love is fix'd, I think we've prov'd it; Nor time, nor place, nor art have mov'd it…" he read.
"Byron had a way with words," Mike said. Then he continued to read out loud, El moved her head slightly. She had drifted off to sleep on his shoulder.
He sighed. Could life get any better than this? Once his parents left for the weekend at Karen's parents' house—his grandparents with their annoying little dog and three cats—they planned a little rendezvous. He escaped from the social layover by pleading about his allergies and the pretext of a big homework project.
He drove Jane home after school, his body tingling with excitement. He found himself grinning and effervescent.
They talked for hours, mostly about what they would do when the evil was undone. Kissing and heavy petting commenced upstairs without fear of discovery. The yearning in her eyes and mouth seemed so intense. Her hands were all over him…and then it stalled.
She had a headache—one of those mind-splitters. And it came on quickly for no reason.
El needed rest, so he read poetry. She liked poetry, it helped expand her vocabulary. Her latest craze was Lord Byron.
"…Oh! Would some modern muse inspire, And seat her by a sea-coal fire…" he read in a soft voice.
He paused to let her sleep. His arm numbed, but he didn't care. She stirred and resumed reading.
"…In Italy, I've no objection,
Warm nights are proper for reflection; But here our climate is so rigid, That love itself, is rather frigid…"
El's eyelids fluttered open as he glanced. Her shining eyes glowed in the candlelight.
"Did you dream?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
"What was it about?"
"It was…I looked out the huge window of a mansion onto a garden. It was a stone house in England, I think. It was sunny and the flowers were blooming everywhere. A warm breeze scented with flowers blew in the bed chamber. But I saw something on the horizon.
"I picked up binoculars to look out over the green grassy fields and forest. I saw the monsters coming.
"I saw my children come outside to play, a boy and a girl, about seven or eight years old. But a drill sergeant ordered them to march around. The boy said he wanted to play with his ball but the soldier said, 'Get over it' and 'Stop being a pussy.' The girl started crying. Many, many more children came and marched around the field. Then I woke up."
"A scary dream," said Mike.
"I want to know what it means."
"El," he said. "I don't know that dreams mean anything."
She blinked a few times as Mike admired her long lashes.
"I am sorry I had a headache."
"Are you kidding? It's not a big deal. I promise," Mike said.
"I told Jim I was with Max tonight."
"Are you feeling guilty?"
"I lied to him," she said, swallowing and staring off into space.
"We can call him. I can take you home soon, in my car."
She paused. Then she turned her hazel-brown eyes up to him and stared deeply.
"If one day we go too far, you know…like we can't help it, am I going to be called names like Nancy was?"
Mike tensed, "El, I told you I would always be honest. You know. The truth is: Many boys see it that way. Like winning a game. But not me."
"Max says boys high-five each other. They tell each other and brag about it."
"Yeah, that sucks."
"Uh…" she groaned. El closed her eyes and sank into his body. He knew her head must be aching fiercely. Her eyelids drooped to shut out the meager light of his candles. Her headaches were more frequent now. He didn't have Tylenol.
"That idiot copycat Tylenol poisoner should be shot," Mike said.
"The aspirin is working," she whispered. "I'll be better soon."
Mike smiled.
"I don't want to be talked about. But I love you and will do anything for you. And with you. Understand?"
Mike internally gasped. He knew what she meant. "I understand, El. Let's just rest now. And when we do that thing, we'll be married. Okay?"
He rubbed her arm. *Oh sweet mother of Jesus.* She just talked about doing it! Mike of course thought about it constantly, but now that it was on the table, it became real. He trembled.
Her smooth skin and glowing face gave contrast to her perfect pink lips. Mike stared at them with a steady gaze and a flutter bounced around in his chest. His body vibrated with energy but his mind knew what his body was up to. It was going to have to wait.
Mike's palms began to sweat. He thought of Jim Hopper, Chief of Police, being angry. Enraged. Well…so be it. She decided to lie, he didn't know, and he wouldn't hurt her. He raised the book.
"…Then let us meet, as oft we've done, Beneath the influence of the sun…"
El ran her hand over his chest and felt his heartbeat. The throbbing in her head receded as her mind drifted. She grew warm as he held her close. A phrase—a statement—floated through her mind. *He is everything I want.*
"…Or, if at midnight I must meet you, Within your mansion let me greet you: There, we can love for hours together…"
"Mike?" She said not lifting her head. "How does it go? What you said when we ate dinner. Our time is…"
"Hmm?"
"A word…"
Mike looked up in the air, saying, "Um, short?"
"No."
"Priceless?"
"No."
"Hmm," Mike said. He ran his fingers through her hair. "Precious."
"Precious. Our time is precious," El said and snuggled into his shoulder again and fell asleep. He still couldn't believe they talked about sex. And yet, somehow it didn't seem as important to him as he imagined it would. Having her here on his shoulder grew to be more than enough.
Mike put the book down, and whispered, "Our time is precious."
It's true. Suddenly Byron wasn't as interesting, so he imagined her dream. Could it mean something? Kids working when they ought to be playing, marching around instead of picking flowers and kicking a ball around. Monsters on the horizon seemed obvious. He recalled that El had been forced to work all through her childhood for a twisted, cruel, manipulative man. Yet Mike's parents let him run wild in a laissez-faire style, latchkey, and self-entertaining. His father didn't listen if he told him his feelings. But at least he wasn't forced to work. That was worse.
Her soft body on his alternately thrilled him and steadied him, and he wondered if that was normal. He waited and presently she awoke to sit up abruptly, her eyes scanning the room and body rigid. She breathed fast. "Papa," she whispered so softly he barely heard it. Her agitation spooked him, and he sat up. She blinked and looked around.
"It's okay, El," he said. "You're safe."
"Okay," she said. "I want to go home now."
———
Hopper heard the car drive up, it was a foreign job, and Jane climbed out stiffly, put her hand to her forehead, and came up the steps with her backpack. Down the hill and around a hill the stream burbled at this time of year which El appreciated, and dusk set in. He opened the door for her.
"Hi Daddy," she said.
"Hi kid," he replied and followed her the the table. "Headache again?"
She nodded, sitting down slowly.
"What happened to the sleepover?"
"I canceled it, I wanted to come home and talk to you."
Jim put another TV dinner in the oven and walked over. "I noticed Mike drove you home."
"Yes. Max didn't know. Don't be mad. I lied."
There was a moment of silence. Jim sat down heavily. "You lied?"
Jane nodded. "I…" she stopped and swallowed. Her mouth was dry.
"Mike and I wanted to spend the night together."
Jim put his elbows on the table, made a fist, and with his knuckles tapped on his head. He tapped a little too hard. Then he looked back to the door, starting to rise. El grabbed his hand. He sat back down.
"I knew something was up," he said. "What did you two do?"
El made a line of her lips, her cheeks flushed with color, and her hands trembled.
"We didn't do it. I had a headache. And I'm glad."
"Glad?"
"We talked about it. I offered, but he wants to wait until we marry…"
"Holy sh*t!" Jim said. "Marriage? When did these plans start?"
"Yesterday," she said, "he gave me a promise ring." El took it out of her pocket and put it on.
"You're sixteen years old! Just a child. You can't know what you are doing yet. And…sss…"
Jim paused. "I can't even say it."
"He told me to tell you. I'm sorry I lied, and I promise, I will tell you the truth from now on. Always. I'm sorry."
Jim turned his head away. Then he got up and started pacing around the cabin. Silence, except for his heavy boots clapping on the floor, weighed on El's mind as she watched to see how he would handle it. He made fists. Then relaxed and breathed.
"There's right and there's wrong," he said to start with. He approached the table and loomed.
El frowned. Her eyes began to roll upward. Great, a morality lecture. Again.
"I won't talk about that."
"Huh?" She said as her head tilted and her mouth opened.
"I know it's different for every culture and religion. So let me tell you about the difference between sex and intimacy."
El breathed a heavy sigh. He didn't lose it or flip his wig. He seemed more open and honest. Finally, her headache was going away. She sat up straight to listen.
Then he looked up and to his left thoughtfully and sat down and sighed. "Joyce and I talk about this a lot. So here it goes…"
He cleared his throat.
"Intimacy is what you two have. It is about being vulnerable with each other. You tell each other everything, kid, no secrets at all. I've seen it. You two have it."
"Vul-na…"
"Vulnerable, means putting yourself out there, taking a risk knowing you could be hurt."
El nodded. She processed the word in her mind: Vul-nar-able.
"God, El. I want to protect you, I can't help it," he admitted.
"Look. Sex is fun, but it's brief. You can't really build a long-term relationship on sex. And getting pregnant…well it's dangerous when your body is not mature."
El looked at his calm eyes. He actually smiled, and that was not at all what she expected. He made a connection with her, and she let go of her fear, relaxing.
"Jane, it feels a thousand times better if you are connected on a deep level. Don't be in a hurry. And people can fall out of love. But children are forever."
El nodded. "But does it make you closer?"
Jim sucked on his cheek for a second, then spoke more slowly and carefully.
"Joyce says so. You should talk to her."
El looked at the ring on her hand.
"It may be awkward. It could easily go wrong, especially for boys who are on a hair trigger anyway. I know at Mike's age I thought about sex 1000 times a day."
"That's crazy," she said.
"Now I wish I could have done things differently. I started too young. I was not mature."
"Because…you weren't mature, it was not as good?"
"Yeah, kid," he sighed. "You got it. Listen to that inner voice that tells you if you're breaking your own rules."
"Rules?"
"You will know. It may be that your headache was caused by yourself—protecting you from a mistake."
El stared at Jim's badge. "Maybe…"
"Truth is: our body wants us to reproduce… It's boiling in hormones that make us all *horny as hell.* When you're a child—it's chaos. It can really mess up your life."
El nodded. "The other girls at school, most of them say they they bonked already."
"They're lying," he answered. "I would suggest not basing choices on rumors of other girls and boys 'bonking.' You and Mike are all that need to know anyway, and who cares if you do it now or later? Neither of you have to tell anyone. Just say 'That's private' whenever anyone asks. You had your birth control class in school?"
"Yes."
"Well," Jim said, "I'm giving you the other part, listening to your inner voice and setting and following your boundaries."
"Okay," El said. "So you're saying…"
"I know there will be a time and a place where everything will be just right. Then you have to make your own decision, but when you are older and wiser. Please?"
El nodded. "But the desire is so strong," she said.
"It's the same for all of us."
"Again," she whispered, "I am sorry I lied, and I hurt our relationship. Can you forgive me?"
Hop stood up and motioned for her to come in for a hug. They embraced. Eleven's eyes leaked onto his shirt as he held her close. Abruptly, Joyce walked through the front door.
"I want a hug too," she said. "Did you know Mike is out there in his car?"
"Still?" Jim asked.
"Did he drop off El?" Asked Joyce.
"Are we doing movie night?" Jim asked.
"Are you changing the subject?"
"Did you rent the movie?" Jim asked.
"Did you bring the popcorn?" Joyce asked.
"Do you two ask too many questions?" Jane asked and they all chuckled. El went to find Mike.
"Invite him in," said Joyce.
Outside, the crickets chirped and a few stars had come out. Mike sat with his window down an arm on the sill. The warm evening began to cool. El went to him, and he immediately got out. He wore a jean jacket and denim jeans.
"Did it go okay?"
"Yes. It was great. Do you want to come in and watch a movie with us?"
"If it's okay."
"It is," she said. "Let's go watch…Batman!"
"Cool, I like Jack Nicholson."
——-_——-
———-
Quoted passages from:
"To a Lady who Presented to the Author a Lock of Hair Braided with his own, and appointed a Night in December to meet him in the Garden," The Complete Works of Lord Byron, e-artnow, 2019
Contact: EAN 4057664556332.