Page 36 of The Now in Forever
We ride through the local college campus, the sound of the skateboard wheels on the brick ground so loud it echoes through my head. Sculptures cover the campus—bright-orange ones, odd, shaped wood monstrosities, and unassuming walls with plaques announcing the art. Ed weaves his board between two massive wrought iron slabs, momentarily disappearing. I ride in circles around this one, clearly a modern masterpiece, but in this light, it looks a lot like a half-finished dungeon with giant rusty rivets covering the edges.
“Ed! Ed! Did the sculpture swallow you?”
He pops out the other side and wheels away fast, headed right for some stairs. I veer to the left for the ramp, but Ed keeps barreling straight ahead, faster and faster, toward the stairs. My stomach lurches as I picture him falling down them, reaching the bottom a mangled mess. Maybe he doesn’t even see the stairs at all. I’m about to call out to warn him when he bends then leaps up, his arms outstretched at his side like a bird, the board magically stuck to his feet. It’s the stillest I’ve seen him, flying through the air. He hops over the entire staircase and lands at the bottom, rolling away on the board, moving his left arm behind him in an arc. Cool as can be. I’ve never really had a thing for skater boys, but I do now. His movements are so graceful, but strong. It’s like watching a dancer on wheels. I’m a runner.I started running track in my sophomore year of high school, so I’m fit and relatively strong in a wiry, long-distance runner, hate-to-do-my-weight-training kind of way, but Ed’s strength is explosive. He can fly.
The ramp is the longer way down, and I catch up to him after a couple of minutes. “Fancy moves.”
He shrugs. We ride about a mile farther up a windy road. Ed stops at the edge of a field and hops off again. There are tall pine trees surrounding a chain-link fence. I lean my bike against one, and we walk along the fence until we come to a part that has a hole. Ed holds it open a little wider, making a door. “After you.”
I take a deep breath, not quite knowing what will meet me on the other side. There is a small grassy area beyond the rows of cars parked in front of a large flickering screen. It’s a drive-in. Ed joins me and grabs my hand. “Do you like movies?”
“Yeah. How will we hear it, though?”
“Leave that to me.” Ed pulls me to the edge of the grass. We’re still in the shadows. The lights from the concession stand don’t reach this far. Ed spreads out the blanket again, and I take a seat. He sits next to me and pulls out a small handheld radio.
“That’s like a Mary Poppins bag.”
Ed smiles. “You don’t know the half of it.”
He unfolds the antenna and scrolls until the sound matches the action on the screen. Parker Posey is yelling at a group of freshman girls; it’s somewhere in the middle ofDazed and Confused.
“Do they always play older movies?” I ask.
“Nah.” He points to the other screen. “That one is showing the new Marvel movie. But Richard Linklater is releasing a new movie soon, so they’re doing a marathon. A double feature every Friday.”
“That’s so cool.”
Ed lies down and props himself up on his elbow, patting the blanket in front of him. Stars fill my veins. I snuggle down on the blanket, the small spoon to his little spoon.
“Was your high school like this?” I want to ask him where he went, but I also don’t want it to be where Robin and Anh went. I don’t wantto pop our bubble. Today feels like a dream, like we’re the only two people who exist. If he knows the same people as I know, it might bring that crashing down.
“No. Well, sort of. In senior year, everyone hung out a little bit more from different groups, but they didn’t do the hazing freshman thing. What about your high school?”
“Everyone pretty much hung out with everyone. The school was too small not to.”
“Were you a cheerleader?” Ed asks as he traces a line from my hip down my thigh and back. It feels lazy and charged all at the same time.
“No. I ran track and took AP English. What about you?”
“I wasn’t a cheerleader, either. Mostly skated. Went to some classes.”
“Some classes?”
Ed laughs. “School felt optional.”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
“Well, I still ended up graduating, so it was fine.”
“Didn’t your mom care?”
“She cared, but she was busy…” He trails off. I’m about to say something, ask what he means, but he continues. "When she did catch me skipping, she’d drag me back to school. Usually when I went, it was because I didn’t want her to worry.”
The movie ends and another begins. It’s getting late, but I don’t want to move. Ed doesn’t make any attempt to get up either. His hand still traces my leg asBefore Sunrisestarts. Even in these still moments, he’s moving.
On one of his trips back up my leg, he takes my hip in his hand and gives it a firm squeeze. Warmth spreads through my body like lava rolling downhill. I turn to face him and whisper, “You’re distracting me from the movie.” In all honesty, I’ve seen this movie a million times.
A smile slowly spreads across his plump lips. “Am I?”
