Rose Garden

I walk into Cindy’s house, where the Young Life party is being held. It feels so nice to be out of the house. Mom can be so controlling, she is still on my back all the time about homework and junk. I get it done, just on my own time. I want to just vege when I get home from school, not hit the books right away.

I look around the room and see a few girls in my Brit lit class, so I meander over to them. They are talking about next weeks dance. That reminds me to look for my boyfriend, Daniel later on. He said he wasn’t sure if he was coming, but he said would try to swing by the last half hour or something. I am bored with the conversation and decide to go see who else showed up. My ears hear someone playing a guitar, I smile as I walk closer and recognise the song as "California Dreaming". As I approach the musician, I do not recognise him. I guess he must be a lower class man He is sitting there with his head bent down, playing the instrumental parts. Then he lifts his head, and begins to sing. I stand watching for a moment, his hair in cropped close, but I can tell that if it was allowed to grow, it would be a fabulous hair-do. He is so darling sitting there; I can’t help myself from noticing that. He starts the second verse and I decide to sing with him. My voice blends well with his and he notices me right away, looking up and smiling, thought he keeps playing. I smile back, suddenly very happy that Daniel isn’t here yet. I add my best Michelle Phillips harmonies. The song sounds good, very good. He begins another song I don’t know, his voice is much rougher, he is belting it out. The chorus is easy though and the second time it comes around I join in, to keep myself from thinking about how cute he is; I have Daniel. We sing a few more songs, until someone brings out a stack of 45’s, which we play as loud as we can until Cindy’s parents complain. I take the opportunity to go introduce myself to the guitarist. His name is Lindsey Buckingham, and I was right, he is a junior. He is also on swim team, I guess… He doesn’t live that far from us, only a few blocks.

I glance at my watch and sigh, I only have twenty more minutes until curfew. Mom insists that I am back home at eleven on school nights, no matter how much I protest.

I find Cindy and thank her for having this at her house and to tell her that I am leaving. She complains about it being a drag that I have to go. I start walking out the door, collecting my jacket from the coat rack.

“Hey, um, Stevie?” I hear a voice behind me. I whirl around and see Lindsey standing there with his guitar and sweatshirt.

“Yeah?” I ask impatient to get going so I can be home on time.

“You sang really good tonight,” he shuffles his feet nervously.

“Thanks,” I reply, “Are you going home too?”

“Yeah, I have practice early tomorrow.”

“Walking, or do you have a ride?”

“Oh, I’m walking.”

“Do you want a ride?” I offer, my urgent tone fading.

“I don’t need one,”

“C’mon, it’s quicker. I’ll just drop you off.”

He looks over his shoulder, “Uh, ok, if we can leave like now.”

“That’s fine.” We walk out to my car and get in. I dig my glasses out my purse and slip them on; grimacing at their ugliness, but it’s better than crashing.

We don’t talk for much of the drive; it only takes about ten minutes to get to his house.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, opening the door.

“Sure,” I wave slightly, stopping myself. I cannot flirt; it’s bad enough that I took him home. I only have five minutes to get home anyway. I will be lucky if I make it.

The hall light is on, Mom is sitting on the couch, waiting up for me. I let myself in and ignore her inquisitive looks. “You’re late,” she states.

“Sorry, I dropped someone off so they wouldn’t have to walk home in the dark.”

“Who?”

“Lindsey Buckingham, he’s on the swim team.”

She raises her eyebrows at me, “Where was Daniel?”

“Oh, he didn’t come,” I say matter-of-factly.

She opens her mouth to say something. I choose to skip out of whatever it is she wants to discuss now, cutting her off, “I have homework; lots of it.” I start up the stairs before she can say anything.

I sling my purse on my bed and shut the door. I pull out a book of matches, strike one and hold it to the wick of my candle. I watch it as it burns for a moment and turn to shut off the lights. I wash my face and run a comb through my hair before I pull off my clothes and change into my PJs. I let the candle’s lavender scent fill the room while I write in my journal. Blowing the flame out, I crawl into bed, pulling the covers to my chin. I shut my eyes and drift to sleep.

I am sitting, in a window seat, wrapped in a robe with a soft blanket over my lap. Soft music plays in the background. I hear myself on the radio. I get up and I look at myself in the mirror. My face shows signs of age. My eyes look tired and my mascara has run. I have been crying, a lot. I am a wreck.

I turn around when I hear the door open. “Stevie,” a man’s voice says, his face is obscured by the shadows. I recognize the voice and turn my back on him again. “Stop!” I shout as he comes closer.

“C’mon,” he reaches out to me, his hand feels good on my shoulder. I don’t resist him as he pulls me closer; caressing my back.

“No,” I say weakly, “Go away, I don’t want you here.”

“Yes, you do. You know you do.” His lips brush my collarbone; while his hand snakes around to untie my robe. I stop him from removing it so he and picks me up, carrying me to the bed and setting me down gently. He leaves, lighting two candles that are on the nightstand and turning off the lamp. I lie silently as he walks around to the other side of the bed, takes his shoes off and climbs beside me. He gathers me up in his arms and before I know what I am doing I am returning his kisses; soft at first, but turning more and more passionate.

“Do you still want me gone?” he breathes into my ear. I shake my head no and reach up to unbutton his shirt. Before long, we are lying between the sheets naked, but totally unashamed.

“Stevie!” mom bangs on my door. “Stevie! Get out of bed, you’ll be late!”

My slumber stops as I pry one eye open. “What time is it?” I holler back at her.

“Golly, it’s almost eight. You’d better hustle, honey.”

I roll out of bed and look at myself in the mirror. I am young again. My face shows no signs of crying. It was all a dream, but the dream, was so… real.

I dress and pull my hair up. I’ll worry about make-up later, I have dance first thing, so there’s no reason to bother. I trample downstairs and out the door.

“Stevie? Forget anything?” Mom calls after me.

“Huh?”

“Your backpack, and saying goodbye?”

I dash back up the sidewalk, grab my bags and give her a quick goodbye as I wave to dad and Christopher who are sitting at the table, eating breakfast.

When I finally get to school, I have twenty minutes until class starts. Twenty minutes I should have been sleeping. I should have known that “almost eight” really meant it was 7:30. School doesn’t even start until 8:30.

I drop my stuff next to a table in the commons and yank my journal from my purse. As soon as my pen touches the paper, my dream flashes back at me and I begin to write.

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