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Patchwork hearts lighting up the dark... |
| The doorbell jangled as I walked into the local Pizza Shack. Wonderful aromas of fresh brick oven pizza filled the air along with the din of excited conversations and upbeat pop music from the overhead sound system. I headed towards my usual corner seat, eager to set down my backpack after a long school day. "Hey Devin!" One of my guy friends hollered. "That math exam coming up is gonna be a killer!" I ignored him. Math was one thing I enjoyed; a killer math exam was actually something to look forward to. I passed two girls at a table and stopped short when I recognized Wendy. Her long black hair shone like the wings of a raven, and her black lace dress and tall granny boots were full-on Goth. If she'd had an umbrella she would have been Wednesday Addams. I saw her every day in class and longed to make friends and ask her out. Her appearance fascinated me, for I too was Goth, or emo, or whatever one might call the black leather jacket, biker boots and chains on the belt. The old scar on my right eyebrow from a dog attack when I was five added to the style. My hands were sweaty as I turned towards them and smiled at Wendy. "Hi," I said, feeling as though my voice was stuck in my throat. "My name is Devin. Uh, could I sit with you guys?" "No. Why would you?" The girl sitting beside Wendy tossed her head and gave me a narrow sideways look. "Well, I really wanted to get to know, uh, Miss Wendy, and…" I cringed inside at my own awkwardness. How was I supposed to introduce myself to a gaggle of girls? "There are plenty of empty seats," the other girl insisted. Wendy had her phone out, staring at it with rapt attention. She probably didn't want me sitting there either. I turned away and surveyed the crowded dining area. Her friend was fibbing; space was rather tighter than usual, being a Friday afternoon. Things suddenly became a whole ton more awkward when Jake, the youth leader of my mom's church, walked in with his wife. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me. "Hey, if it isn't my old buddy Devin!" Jake slapped me on the back with fake joviality. He was one of those annoying middle-aged guys who likes being around young people and tries way too hard to be "cool" and "with it." I cringed and stiffened my shoulders, stuffing my hands in my pockets as he drilled me with idiotic questions about the state of my soul. "You know we can get you baptized any time you're ready," he enthused. "Jesus is waiting for you with open arms!" "Getting dunked in a pool in front of a million people is the last thing I need, sir," I responded with as much sarcasm as I could muster up. "I may look tough, but I'm not a wretched sinner." "Oh, but aren't you, now?" His wife chimed in, much to my horror. "My friend told me she knows how you got that scar over your eye. A gang fight, it was." I gasped. My stomach turned at the idea. Is that what everyone was thinking? My mom had just moved us to this unbearably small town less than a year ago. No one here knew what I'd been through. "No! How could you say that?" I croaked. "I got attacked by a dog. I was only five years old." "Aww, I'm sorry," she cooed. "So are you afraid of dogs now?" I rolled my eyes. "No, actually. My buddy Andy has a pit bull, and she's great." She'd hate these snotty Christians, that's for sure. But I didn't say anything. "We'll discuss religion later, okay? I'm busy." “Anytime, Devin." Jake nodded. "And hey, the missus didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” “She’s been spreading gossip,” I retorted. "Hey." His face darkened and he wagged a warning finger at me. "Watch that tongue of yours, boy." So much for the loving kindness and mercy of Jesus; one word from me and he was ready to send me straight back to hell. I watched as he and his wife took the last table. Now what? "You can sit with us, Devin." Wendy looked up at me and smiled, her long lashes fluttering. Good heavens, she had violet eyes. A real life Cleopatra. What would she want with some scarred weirdo like me? Theirs was the only table left, however, so I cautiously slid myself in the third spot, across from Wendy. The friend introduced herself as Grace. Grace was dressed punkishly, with dyed fire engine red hair, but not eerie Goth like Wendy. I ordered my usual personal pizza and tried to begin a conversation. "What's your favorite subject?" "I'm AP English," Wendy said, a sparkle in her eyes. "Books are my favorite things in the world." "Nice," I grinned. "You must be quite smart." "She has high ambitions," Grace interjected. "We plan to attend the same college when we graduate." "Great. You're like sisters." "Even better cause sisters don't always get along with each other," Wendy giggled. "Now it's your turn." Grace pointed at me. "What's your favorite subject?" "Math and science. I'm AP Biology. Gonna be a space engineer someday." "Ooh, space…" Wendy looked dreamy. "Ugh, math." Grace cringed. "I hate math. Anyone who loves math is crazy." She gave me a sideways glare as if I should be in the loony ward. "Boys always enjoy math," Wendy observed. "Do you like it?" I asked. "Not the worst thing ever. But I don't enjoy it. I'm a poet, a dreamer, a storyteller. Numbers are so impersonal." "Exactly. That's why I like them," I declared, earning another frown from Grace. The conversation went on like this for the whole meal: I would say something, Grace would interrupt or change the subject or try to outdo me. Wendy chatted and giggled and even showed me a little art piece she'd made on her phone. When it was time to leave, I got up the nerve to ask for her number. "Sure." Wendy brought out her phone. I noticed Grace peering over her shoulder as she typed in my number. I added Wendy to my contacts under Goth Girl. We said goodbye and parted ways at the front door. That wasn't so hard, I told myself. I think maybe she likes me! I couldn't wait to call and ask her out. *** After I got home I texted Wendy a little note saying how nice it was to meet her. No reply for the next fifteen minutes. I decided to call and ask if she'd arrived home safely. She didn't answer. Wow. Either she'd been in an accident or she was ignoring me. Fervently praying it wasn't either of those options, I sent another text: Hey, Wendy, it's Devin. Are you okay? Her response came in quickly enough then: I'm fine. Is this a different number? Me: No, same. Didn't you save it? Wendy: Yeah. Funny, Grace had to borrow my phone for a minute cause the signal died… I groaned. Her girlfriend deleted my number. Seriously? What was I getting into? After a long pause, I typed in: Would you like to go for a drive to the lake tomorrow? Get to know each other a little better? The most frustrating thing about texting is waiting for the response. I fretted and paced and flipped back and forth from Messages to games, wondering if I'd come across as an overeager jerk. We'd only just met! Finally: My mom said I'll have to bring a friend. Can Grace come with us? I facepalmed. Oh, the irony. Sure, why not? See ya tomorrow at ten. *** I came equipped with a cute and innocent little bunch of daisies the next morning. Didn't want to be overly romantic right off the bat. This wasn't a date, just a hangout. "Oh, how poetic!" Wendy chirped when I handed her the flowers. She held them up against her old-fashioned black ruffled blouse and prepared for a selfie. "The contrast is stunning. Thank you!" Grace insisted on photo-bombing Wendy's selfie, which led to a fit of giggles. I repressed an eye roll and waited until they were ready to get in the car. It was my older brother's blue Camaro, but I thought maybe I could pretend it was mine for the day… "So what music do you two like?" I asked before driving off, getting my phone ready to cast to the car's sound system. "I love cutesy indie music, like Oh Wonder and the Lumineers," Wendy said. "Grace likes Metallica…" I was so eager to please, I would have played Smashing Pumpkins or Depeche Mode if they'd told me. Whatever that means. You get the idea. We were singing along quite companionably by the time we got to the lakeside park. I set us up in front of the water with a cooler full of food and drinks and some more music playing on my phone. "What made you decide to be emo, Wendy?" I asked. She looked down bashfully at the picnic table. "I just don't fit in with modern society," she said softly. "I'm an old soul, and an introvert, and a word nerd, and I appreciate the darker side of beauty. So many things in this world make no sense…" she sighed and gazed out at the lake. "I ask myself, what's the point? I drive Mom crazy with cynicism." I listened patiently as she poured out her heart, all the doubts and fears and consternation and frustration. Grace sat back and watched us while eating. "Hey, I'm a huge cynic myself," I said at last, with a hesitant smile. "You're in good company. The scar on my eyebrow is nothing compared to what's inside—not that I'll ever tell anyone!" Wendy reached out and touched my hand. "I'm sorry," she said with genuine emotion. "I wish there was a way I could sew up your heart, but mine's in worse shape than yours, I'll bet." She picked up her phone. "Look at this poem I wrote the other night. I couldn't sleep." I don't feel alive right now, it began somberly… We spent several hours out there, getting to know each other. It was the closest thing to fun I'd had in a long time. *** The very next day, Wendy invited me to Sunday dinner to meet her parents. At some point during the meal, our conversation turned south. "I really think I was supposed to…" I said. "No, no! You had to do…" Wendy insisted. "But what about…?" "That's ridiculous!" "No it isn't! This is serious." I crumpled my napkin in my lap under the table. Wendy wrinkled her nose and considered the matter. Then she excused herself from the table. I sat in awkward silence as her parents chatted over my head. When she came back she was fuming like a volcano. "You're crazy!" She yelled. "I told you not to…!" "What? Why are you so upset? I didn't mean…" Now how had this suddenly escalated from "not too bad" to "our relationship is on the rocks"? I had an inkling. "Did you text Grace about it?" "Yes, and she told me you're the biggest dummy for not doing…" "I'm never speaking to her again! She's just jealous! Why do I need to deal with your drama queen friends trying to break us up?" "Fine then, you're not seeing me again either! You can just leave right now!" "Wait, what?" I found myself standing on her parents doorstep, staring at my brother's car in the driveway. What a disaster—all because of her meddling girlfriend! *** We didn't speak for months after that. My whole winter of senior high was spent alone, wishing I hadn't made such a big deal out of nothing at all. Then, one afternoon in spring, during the hustle and rush of finals, someone came up behind me at my locker. "Devin? Can I talk to you about something?" It was Grace, hair redder and choppier than before, if that were possible. Her forehead was wrinkled. She looked at me with something like trepidation. I banged the locker shut and turned to her. "What's up?" "I… you know how much you like math?" "Yeah?" "It… I—I—it's the finals," she said at last, her voice trembling. "I'm flunking in math, and the teacher warned me I may be held back if I don't pass the math exam! I really need your help. Everyone said you could help me with it." "Uh-huh… what makes you think I'll go to all that trouble? I've got my own problems with the finals. The English literature is driving me crazy. Hate that stuff." Her eyes lit up. "Wendy can help you with it! She loves—" "We're not on speaking terms anymore." "Oh, I can fix that! Just you wait! I'm sorry about telling her what you did last year was such a big deal. I wanted her to stand up for herself. Don't worry, I'll get it straightened out." "Yeah, sure. I'll believe that the day I get baptized…" *** It did work out, unbelievably. Grace got Wendy and me back together, and we made ourselves a study team, tutoring each other on what we each struggled with. I helped Grace catch up her math, and she graduated with the rest of us. "I'm forever grateful, Devin!" she nearly cried as she hugged me. "You're the best!" "I can't wait to be your prom queen," Wendy smiled. *** At the prom, I held Wendy's hand for our portrait. She was stunning. I remembered my scar briefly, but if anything I was proud of it. "Are you feeling alive yet?" I whispered, admiring the glow of her cheeks against her pale face. "This is heaven…" she whispered back. "Oh hey, Devin!" It was Jake, chaperoning. "You decided to give your heart to Jesus yet?" He barged right into our photo area, waving a pamphlet. "I've already given it to my lady, thanks," I said sharply, squeezing Wendy's hand. Gosh, what a time to come around evangelizing! I noticed Grace standing off to one side with another boy. She caught my eye and grinned approvingly, flashing a thumbs up. Being a math whiz saved my relationship. Word Count: 2,400. lyrics to Heaven ▼ |
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