an_____emo_____story the awful truth The boy sings his favorite song as he gets ready for the evening. He puts on his underwear first, and then his Dickies pants with the legs cuffed up the way he likes them. Next goes his stained shirt from Goodwill that says “Love those lungs, Keep ‘em clean” with a hokey picture of a lung stamping out a cigarette. The boy loves this shirt because he thinks it’s cute and funny, and girls like it, and he wears it even though he smokes. He always thinks that it would make a great picture, if he were standing there on a street corner wearing that shirt and smoking a cigarette. Next came the Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars, the shoes, the beautiful shoes that were worn through in the toes and the ankles; they were so worn they were like slippers now. They were held together with duct tape and they squeaked when he walked and he loved them. His mother had tried to throw them out but he had rescued them from the trash can and hid them every night. His hair is the unnatural black that is definitely dyed but it might not be, you never know, and it shags down into his eyes in a look that he thinks makes him look brooding and sexy in that dark way. But some people just think it looks gay. The CD ended and silence filled the room. The boy doesn’t like the silence; he starts the CD over again and goes to brush his teeth. He looks at himself in the mirror. He sees his black hair and his dark eyes and dark skin, but not too dark. He just looks tan. He has freckles on his nose and his cheeks but not so much that it looks unattractive. He is thin and his skin is pulled taut over his high cheekbones. He is handsome, pretty even. He could be beautiful if he cut his hair and smiled more often. His smiles at himself in the mirror, but looks unnatural. He stops smiling. He wonders what other people see, and feels like it could be the start of a good thought. But the thought is fleeting. He spits, rinses, and is out the door. The music is still on. He sings along to the tape deck as he pulls out of his driveway. The sun is setting over the trees that shadow the road, but light filters through the trees onto the pavement. It looks peaceful. The boy is reminded of a river. He taps his fingers on the wheel and nods with the beat of the music. The boy stops at a red light but a red Jeep speeds through on his left. The boy didn’t see the driver but he guessed it was not someone he’d get along with. He pulls up to his friend’s house and honks once. She slips out the door and shuts it behind her. She is small but not small enough to make his height a problem, slim and pretty with soft features and brown eyes that make the boy think of Van Morrison. Her hair is down and falls in tangles around her unpierced ears. She never wears make-up, and he adores that about her. She never needs it anyway. She is gorgeous. They are going to a party thrown by a friend of theirs with lots of money; her family has three houses in the area. The party is at the most expensive and the least used of their houses. It’s up in the foothills of the mountains and looks over the whole town, and at night there is a beautiful view from the second-floor deck. You can sit on the railing and you are higher than the trees so you can look out at all the blinking lights and smoke a joint. Usually people will act disgusted and say, “This whole fucking town is dead. The whole fucking town,” and walk away grumbling to go get some more beer. But the boy and the girl like to spend nights on the deck, sitting and leaning on each other and trying to find the place on the horizon where the stars collide with the streetlights. The song ends, and the girl leans forward to change the tape. The boy watches her fingers and looks at the music she’s chosen but doesn’t stop her. She presses play and rolls down the window. The boy turns the volume up. “Last night, I had a dream that we went to Disneyland. We went on all the rides, didn’t have to wait in line.” The boy sings, “I took you to your house where we stared up at the stars…” The girl smiles and picks up the lyrics. “I listened to your heartbeat as I held you in my arms. We hung out at the rainbow where we drank ‘till half past two…” “Nothing could go wrong anytime that I’m with you…” The boy takes a drink of a bottle of water on the dashboard and hands it to the girl. She drinks long and slow and the cool water streams down her throat like a river. She looks at the boy and smiles. She does not know where she stands with the boy. He is her best friend, and she loves him, but they are not together. She looks at him and he takes his eyes off the road to smile a sideways smile at her. She sits back in her seat and listens to the music. He has been wanting to tell her he loves her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He’s tried in the past, but the words get caught in his throat and when she leaves and it is left unsaid he is angry, and writes her countless songs that are left unread. “…Don’t you understand that what I say is true? I just want you to know I have a major crush on you… I’d take you to Las Vegas, and do all the things you’d want to do… I’d even have Wayne Newton dedicate a song to you.” It is only 6:00. The boy pulls the car into a supermarket parking lot and they get out and walk into the store. They walk up and down the aisles looking at the food and almost holding hands. It feels like they are together. They look like they are together, but when the boy reaches for her hand she’s gone, down the next aisle. When they finally reach the checkout counter it’s 6:30 and they’ve only picked out a bag of chips, salsa, and a six-pack each of Sprite and Heineken. The boy’s fake I.D. usually doesn’t work in supermarkets, and liquor stores, but he has used it at this store before with no problem. There is no problem. When they get back in the car the sun is still up, but barely, and the orange-pink of the sunset blinds them as they drive towards it. But it is beautiful and even though they can’t see they are staring at it; they are taken with its beauty. “Take a chance,” the boy sings. “Take a chance with me…” They arrive at the house. There are cars everywhere and there is music playing from inside. It’s R&B and the boy and the girl wrinkle their noses at each other. He grabs a couple tapes from the glove compartment to put in the player on the deck. They walk in the door and say hi to the hostess. The girl takes a beer, gives one to the boy, and puts the rest on the table. The boy bums a couple papers from a guy smoking a joint on the couch so he can roll one up on the deck with the weed he brought, and they make their way upstairs. There is one couple in the corner of the deck, making out under the dusk sky. The stars are coming out. The couple sees them and vacates to find a bedroom to be indecent in. The girl jumps up on the railing and cracks her beer. She hangs her legs over and looks at the way her pale legs contrast with the green grass below her. The boy stands behind her and she leans back. They both stare straight up, straining their necks, to look at the stars. They name constellations and the boy kisses her on the cheek and it feels right for both of them. They stand like that for a long time. Then the girl gets up to go to the bathroom and the boy sits down to roll a joint. He is done when the girl gets back, and he sparks it and passes it to her. They look at each other while they hit it and giggle and are high. The boy gets a guitar from inside and plays her songs and she is happy. “Breathe in for luck. Breathe in so deep. This air is blessed, you share with me. This night is wild, so calm and dull. These hearts, they race from self-control.” And as the boy is singing and playing and looking at her, she leans in closer to him and he knows that this is it, she kisses him and it is just like in the movies. And he never stops playing. And when their kiss breaks he sings more. “Your legs are smooth as they graze mine. We’re doing fine. We’re doing nothing at all. My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me, so won’t you kill me? So I die happy? My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury… or wear as jewelry… whichever you prefer.” The boy wakes up dazed and stares at the ceiling. The radio is on. So quiet, another wasted night. The television steals the conversation. Exhale, another wasted breath. Again it goes unnoticed. The boy rolls out of bed, stretches and rubs his eyes. He is groggy with sleep and cannot remember the night before. He is out the door, on his bike before he can awake fully, and shortly he is in front of her house. The girl who lives there is gorgeous. She is small but not small enough to make his height a problem, slim and pretty with soft features and brown eyes that make the boy think of Van Morrison. Her hair is down and falls in tangles around her unpierced ears. She never wears make-up, and he adores that about her. She never needs it anyway. And although he’s sure they’d be perfect for each other, he can not do anything but dream his dreams and write his songs. 060622 what's it to you? who go blather from