A New Years Eve to remember, for sure.
We trudge up the stairs: I’m hiding my misery. “My bed isn’t made, Allie.”
“Big deal. You think Doug makes his bed? He even leaves his underwear out. It’s friggin’ awful.”
My room is messy, but mostly from records stacked on every conceivable location. Two unmatched socks on my dresser. “You don’t have a closet?” she asks.
“Nope. Back of my door is my closet. As soon as I get home, I strip and hang up my stuff. Mom has to iron asshole father’s shit every week, so I try to cut her some slack.” She examines my Simon and Garfunkel, Dylan, and Santana posters–the Better Homes critic inspecting the room. The White Album photos are arrayed over my mirror. “Well, at least you don’t have pictures of girls on your wall, like my brother……..You sure have a lot of books.”
“Of course. You know I love to read.”
She sighs. “Never my thing…..What’s across the hall?
“Spare bedroom. We call it the blue room, cause it’s painted navy blue.”
“No shit. You wouldn’t mess with me, would you?” She smiles mischievously, walks in. The moon is glowing through the window. She looks at the sky. “Let’s hang here for awhile.”
We stretch out on the floor, bed pillows underneath. Holding hands, we assimilate the moon and stars, and of course, start kissing. Two magnets pulling together, souls and legs intertwined.
Later, she says, “Isn’t kissing just the most fun thing ever?”
“Yea, I guess. That’s kind of an understatement.”
“A friend of Douglas’s said I have pudding lips.”
“What the hell is that?”
“He said my lips look like pudding–soft and shiny”
“Well, you do have some of the most kissable lips in school. From now on, You are hereby christened ‘Pudding Lips.”
“And I will call you ‘Lover Boy’. How about that?”
“I’ve been called worse. That might be one of the better nicknames I’ve had, to be honest.” [Inside, My head was setting off fireworks. ‘Lover Boy’?? Shit, that was fucking awesome.]
“So, Lover Boy, you want some pudding?”
Let’s just dolly back and move the camera to view the sky. Cue the music, please.
[I love you, Greg. RIP.]