Date: Thu, 13 Jul 2006 10:34:10 -0400
From: L W <doveglion@gmail.com>
Subject: Sixteen, Installment 1

It was the night before my sixteenth birthday and we were sitting in front
of each other with our eyes shut; the room was already pitch black, but
Eric said if we kept them closed it would make our pupils dilate faster.  I
knew this wasn't true, so I opened mine.

Nothing.

I waited for them to adjust.

Nothing.

The room was completely dark and, as always, the lack of light was all
encompassing. Just how I liked it.

"Are they still shut?" Eric asked.

"Yea," I said, trying to see his face in the darkness. I reached out in
front of me and felt my fingers brush across his stomach.

"Hey!" he said.

Great. His stomach was really hard and I immediately wanted to touch it
again. Fortunately, I knew better

"Sorry," I said, "I just didn't know where you were."

He laughed. "Just shut your eyes Jess, only a few more minutes."

"They're shut."

This was ridiculous. Our pupils must have been fully dilated for five
minutes already.

I felt the dampness of the room's carpet starting to seep through my pajama
pants. I didn't really mind, though...I was used to it.

I always slept in here -- in this tiny, neglected room in the corner of our
finished basement, the one that Eric and I were currently sitting in,
apparently still waiting for our pupils to dilate.  It was supposed to be
for guests, but we never really had any over except for my
grandparents...and even then I'd end up giving them my room and coming down
here instead. Plus, no one in his or her right mind would ever willingly
choose to sleep here. Except for me, that is.

I loved everything about it. It smelled musky, like mildew or grass; the
dehumidifier was supposed to be on, but I usually just turned it off
because I didn't like the buzzing. I could think better without it, anyway,
and the only consequence was the slightly damp floor from the water vapor
trapped within the carpet's fibers.

"This floor is gross," Eric said, "My knees are starting to get wet."

"Yea, I know," I said, "So why don't you just turn the fucking lights on
already so we can get this over with?" Eric and his stupid ideas.

"Shh," he said. So I stopped talking and listened to the silence instead.
  That's another thing I liked about this room. The silence. It was always
so, so quiet. I couldn't even hear the crickets in the summertime and the
thunder was never loud enough to wake me; it sounded as if it were
underneath a blanket instead of in the sky. Most of the time, everything
was so still that all extraneous bullshit, like high school and my parents,
would simply fall away.

I swore that in this emptiness I could hear my thoughts materializing - or
at least that's what I told myself when the pressure began to build between
my ears. In these moments, I'd always convince myself I could hear my
synapses firing, and my neurotransmitters transmitting, and my
dendrites...dentriting, and whatever else happened in my brain right before
I'd start to have the thoughts. The Thoughts. About him. Eric.

I don't know. Maybe I believed that in the silence, I could isolate the
exact cause and location of my problem, finally being able to say, "Here it
is," for example, "Right between my hypothalamus and pituitary gland." Or
maybe I just secretly *liked* these thoughts; the quiet did, after all,
seemingly magnify them, almost as if it were giving them exactly what they
wanted...and maybe what I wanted too: the freedom to exist, just as they
were.

"It's kind of romantic in here, Jess, don't you think?" I couldn't see his
face but I could hear his voice, dripping with his usual bullshit. Eric
just loved to fuck with me like this.

"Shut up."

He laughed, groping his hand out in front of him until he found my thigh.
He rubbed up and down for a second before I tried to smack it away, but I
missed and ended up hitting my leg instead. He started cracking up, and I
hated him for it.

This routine had become predictable; My best friend Eric, in all his
straight glory, would flirt with me until I got pissed off enough to yell
at him, and then when I did, he'd start laughing as if it were actually
funny. Which it fucking wasn't.

I'm not really sure if he every suspected *why* it bothered me so much, or
if he really even cared. For the most part, he was only concerned with two
things: getting a rise out of me and, of course, the apparent hilarity it
invoked. If only he could see the irony of the situation, in that the rise
he was actually getting was probably not one he wanted.

"It's so dark in here," Eric continued, "we could get a really good make
out session going on, don't you think?" I didn't answer him so he started
making a kissing sound with his lips. I wanted to punch him.

"Yea, whatever," I said, "Can we turn the lights on now?" I was glaring at
him and wishing he could see.

Sometimes I wondered how he'd react if I turned the tables on him...if I
actually played along with his stupid game; but I always ended up
chickening out at the last minute, scared he'd suspect I wasn't completely
joking.

"You know, you're really cute when you're angry," he said.

"Shut up."

"No, you really are," he said. "I just want to come over there and pinch
those cute little cheeks of yours," he paused before continuing, "and not
just the ones on your face."

The bastard laughed at his impeccable wit.  "Eric, seriously. Shut the
fuck up." I heard the smile in his voice when he talked to me and it
hurt. To him, this really was just a joke.

"Come on man, you're too easy," he said, waiting for my cue to see if I was
actually angry enough for him to stop. I was, but he couldn't see my face
and, because I didn't say anything, he just kept going. "And by easy I mean
EASY...you and your cute little bee-hind." He said "behind" in a southern
accent and I wanted to kick him in his stupid face.

I stood up.

"I'm turning on the lights," I said, unwilling to listen to anymore of his
shit.

"NO! Don't. I want our pupils to be huge so we'll really be able to see
them shrink."

I rolled my eyes because he was a fucking idiot.

"Don't roll those pretty eyes at me, man. Just wait a couple more minutes."
He knew me so well. Maybe too well, I thought.

He reached out in front of himself and tried to pinch my ass...but he
really just got the top of my thigh because he couldn't see anything.

"You're such an asshole," I said. He laughed, of course.

I sat back down on the floor, twisting my eyebrow ring between my thumb and
forefinger, visually picturing the room in my head to get my mind off of
Eric.

There weren't any windows in here, which was, of course, why it was always
so dark. The only light was from a small, red circle on the smoke detector,
apparently signifying that it was, in fact, capable of saving someone.  I'd
covered it with a piece of black construction paper.  There was also the
light that tended to seep beneath the door; it overflowed into the room
from the hallway's numerous fluorescent ceiling bulbs. For this I used a
towel, lining the soft terry cloth along the crack and pushing it
underneath the door until it was sealed completely. Just how I liked it.

Sometimes, when I was being particularly neurotic, I'd run masking tape
along the edges of the door, just in case the light decided to find an
alternate route to get to me. This wasn't one of those times, though.

I blinked my eyes open and closed rapidly. I was getting bored.

"Ok," Eric said decidedly, "I think we can turn the lights on now." I'm
sure he sensed I was losing patience.

"Already?" I asked, not even caring anymore if his stupid pupils had
effectively dilated.

He ignored me.

"So, do you think that my eyes or your eyes are gonna get smaller faster?"
he asked.

"I don't know, Eric."

"Cause I was thinking," he continued, "that if one of our eyes gets smaller
faster, it might be because they're different colors."

He was such an idiot.

"Yea, maybe." I said sarcastically. It went over his head.

"Yea. Like if mine get smaller faster we could be like, people with green
eyes have pupils that get smaller faster than people who have big,
beautiful baby blue ones like yours." He cracked up at his uncanny ability
to be both an idiot and piss me off at the same time.

"Wow Eric, you're a genius," I said unenthusiastically. I was tired of
playing this game.

"The only thing is what about people with brown eyes?" he asked seriously.

"Yea," I replied, "Because that's only problem with your theory."
Sometimes I really couldn't believe how dumb he was. He was lucky he was so
pretty.

"Ok, ready?" he asked.

"Yes, for the 800th fucking time."

"Shut your eyes."

"They're fucking shut."

He felt the wall up for the light switch and flicked it on. Even though my
eyes were closed, they were already burning. I heard him move closer to me
until I could feel him breathing on my face.

"Ok," He said. "On the count of three, open your eyes and tell me when you
see my pupils getting smaller." I could smell him and it was making me
dizzy. "One. Two. Three."

I opened my eyes and they burned like fucking hell, but I tried to lock my
gaze onto his to see the long-awaited pupil shrinkage. It was hard, but
once my eyes had adjusted a little better, I actually did see them get
somewhat smaller. It was pretty goddamn anti-climactic, though, if you ask
me.

"Dude, yours fucking shrunk!" he said, "That's so fucking cool!" he was
searching my eyes to see if they were gonna get any smaller.

"Yea, yours did too." I said quietly. I had quickly gotten over the fact
that his pupils had shrunk and was now focused on the fact that I was
staring into his eyes.

He didn't look away, though - even when our pupils had been back to normal
for a good ten seconds.

"What?" I asked finally, but instead of answering he just kept staring into
my eyes - as if he'd suddenly found something else he'd been looking for.

Another ten seconds went by and I felt the heat start to rise in my face.
'Why is he still looking at me?' I wondered. Suddenly, his eyes seemed to
soften and, without warning, he stepped closer to me. Our bodies were
almost touching.

"What?" I asked again, this time more insistently. He was making me nervous
and I didn't like it.

He licked his lips like he was about to say something, but when he opened
his mouth, nothing came out. Instead, he reached out and put his hand on
the back of my neck.

"You know, Jess" he said softly, "you really do have amazing eyes." He
scanned my face, focusing for a moment on my lips. "Really amazing." He
emphasized the word "really" the second time and I suddenly couldn't
breathe.

"I mean, you're beautiful, you know" he continued, "I've always thought
so." His hand was rubbing the back of my neck now and my skin was starting
to tingle from the contact.

He moved in even closer and, when I finally figured out what he was about
to do, my heart started beating like crazy. 'Holy shit,' I thought, 'This
is it.' I tried to think about other things, but all I could see was his
face coming toward mine. I closed my eyes and waited for our lips to touch.

But they never did.

Instead, he removed his hand from my neck and started hysterically
laughing. My stomach sank.

When I finally found the courage to open my eyes, I saw him cracking up a
few inches from face. I wanted to cry.

"Dude," he said, "You should have seen your face!" He kept laughing, this
time leaning forward, practically mashing his stupid head against his
stupid thighs.

That fucking asshole.

"Whatever man, shut the fuck up!" I said, trying to push back the tears by
yelling over them, "It's not like I knew what to fucking do when I saw your
big fucking head coming toward my face!"

He started laughing so hard when I said this that he practically collapsed
onto my lap. I moved backward so he wouldn't touch me and just stood there,
so angry I didn't even know what to do.

'Please don't cry,' I begged myself.

As my heart pushed heavily against my chest, trying not to break...and as
my throat started tightening, trying desperately to keep the tears in...and
as I watched Eric laughing in front of me, proving for the millionth time
that this meant absolutely nothing to him but everything to me -- I knew I
had finally reached my breaking point.

"Yea, ok, you're right" he said, still laughing lightly. I glared at him,
trying my hardest to give him one of those looks that could supposedly
kill. It wasn't having the desired effect, however.

He eventually caught on that I was incredibly pissed because he abruptly
stopped laughing.

"What?" he asked, slightly annoyed, "I wasn't really gonna do it, man...so
calm the fuck down."

I glanced coldly at him and narrowed my eyes; "Well," I said flatly, "I
guess I just thought you might actually follow through on something for
once in your fucking life...but you pussied out for a fuckin change. Big
surprise."

He looked at me, the harshness of my voice cutting through him and causing
the air to grow thick with tension. It wasn't a joke anymore, and he knew
it.

"Come on, Jess! It's not like you would have done it either, man, so shut
the fuck up!"

An eerie stillness had taken over my body and I was completely calm.

"Yea, I would have," I said, my voice sounding detached from my body. It
was almost as if I were watching something inevitable unraveling before me.

"Yea, right. No you wouldn't have," he said.

He didn't quite know what to make of me, and after a few seconds I saw a
little smile creep its way onto the corners of his mouth; he thought I was
fucking with him, and this was his way of letting me know he'd caught on.

I didn't even blink.

"Yea. I would have, Eric." His smile vanished.

"Shut up dude! There's no fuckin way you would have done it!" His voice was
getting louder and I could tell he was getting nervous.

I moved in closer so that we were almost touching. "Yea, Eric. I would
have."

I felt the heat of his chest radiating onto mine. He glanced down, scanning
my entire body. His breath was heavy and I could feel his arm hairs
brushing against my own, making my stomach do flip flops. When he noticed
me looking at him looking at me, he averted his eyes.

"No way," he said, "there's no way you'd do that." His voice was quieter
now, questioning, disbelieving...and I could have sworn I'd heard it crack
a little at the end.

His cool facade was breaking.

"Yea, I would have." I said frankly. "I would've moved in like this," I
stepped even closer, our bare chests meeting each other's and our noses
practically touching, "and I would have kissed you, softly, right on your
lips."

He didn't move.

"Ok Jess. Enough," he said, "You proved your point, ok?" There was almost
no conviction in his voice, as if he were reading the words from a piece of
paper. I watched him while he fidgeted, seemingly fighting with himself.

"Truce, ok?" he finally said, pushing me away and offering me his hand
uncomfortably.

It was now or never.

I gently took his hand in mine, lacing my fingers through his and feeling,
for the first time, how perfectly they fit together. He was so still...so
beautiful...and maybe he could feel it too, because he didn't even try to
take his hand away, somehow finding the courage within himself to enjoy it.

"Jess?" he asked finally, his eyes, soft and pleading. "Yea?" I said.

"You really would have?" He was so quiet, and yet his eyes spoke volumes.

"Yea, Eric," I answered, "I really would have."

I felt his fingers soften between mine, my heart beating so hard I could
feel it in my throat. Slowly, as if attempting to stop time, he began to
rub his thumb gently across my hand, back and forth, back and forth. It was
such a small gesture, his thumb against my thumb, his hand in my hand - and
yet with it, I knew.

"Jesus," he said.

And then I kissed him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my fourth story for nifty. My other ones are:
Simple
Questions (High School, March 29, 2006), Whole (Relationships, April 8,
2006) and Straight Lines and Perfect Circles (High School, April 12,
2006.)
Questions, comments, criticism, and suggestions, etc. - are always
welcome
and appreciated. My email address is Doveglion@gmail.com