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I was getting sick of walking into my house feeling like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. The simple solution was tell Bridget the whole thing was off, forget about her, and end the seemingly endless misery. Then I thought about how cool it was to be popular, and how much I loved kissing Bridget and feeling her melt in my arms, and I knew I wouldn't give up a chance to enjoy that again for anything. Just a week to go until prom, just a few more hurdles to, well, hurdle, and who could tell what might happen?
I walked in the house to find my mother and father sitting on the couch. Sitting very close to each other on the couch. Sitting very close together on the couch, gazing into each other's eyes, my mother running her fingers through my father's hair which, I saw, had been extensively reworked. He didn't have the same style as me, it was cut much shorter on the sides and combed back, but he looked pretty fabulous himself.
"Hello, kids," I said.
"Hey, dude," Dad said, luxuriating in my mother's attention. "Got my hair cut."
"So I see. Naomi?"
"Uh-huh," he purred. Mom was looking at him with what could only be called adoration. It brightened my mood to see them this way, and I decided to give them their privacy. "Think I'll go to my room, read or something."
Mom got up and shook her head. "No, you can stay here and watch TV. I think we'll go upstairs. OK, honey?"
Dad practically leapt to his feet. "Sure, baby." Dad tossed me the remote and the blissful couple trotted upstairs to do...whatever. I was happy that they were happy. And, with luck, maybe I could be that happy, maybe even with Bridget. It would take a lot of work to pull that off, but I was willing to try. And, if the conversation I'd just had with Ms. Landau in the driveway was any indication, I'd have to roll up my sleeves and get busy first thing tomorrow.
- COMMENTS
netgnosticabout 3 years agoI gotta compliment you on your characterizations. The conflicts going on in this story are mostly due to their EXTREMELY different personalities, and your portrayal of these very different people is masterful. And your humour? I love it when you do things like this:
'That's my thirty-second diagnosis of the situation, and if you've got a better one, keep it to yourself. At least this way I could stay sane.'
I can imagine Ferris Bueller saying this toward the camera.
Anonymousover 7 years agoI know its fiction, but wow what a nutty kid. I could see coming already, Bridget and her father both looking at the bookshelf (where the hidden camera was set up), she will show the whole school somehow, maybe at the prom, to destroy him.
Anonymousalmost 11 years agoTruly, for as wacky and extreme as this gets, it's very well written and fun to read.
And to mirror the sentiment of our hero, swinging is crazy/difficult and definitely not for just anyone--it's equal parts secure and crazy. It take a lot of faith and no small amount of luck to deal with the emotions and jealousies of sharing your loved ones with others.
And courage. There's no such thing as 100 percent safe swinging.
I appreciate that you at least partially address -in your early chapters- the importance of protection, which for me is part of why I don't swing anymore. Certainly the big elephant in the room is HIV (overlooking pregnancy... but that's easier to deal with), but there's a host of other things like HPV, Herpes, and a small alphabet of Hepatitis variants that are plenty nasty and just as incurable as HIV, with their own social and health implications (like death).
I hope you continue to write and that you finish all the good things you've shared with us.
