The Boy From Hot Ice

It was the way the color of his eyes matched the lake we were so fond of treading. It was the way I melted into his arms whenever he was near to me. It was the way his eyes trailed from my hair to my lips and back up again. These were the things that kept me coming to him, day after day, whenever I could. Wherever we found ourselves.
I couldn't resist his lips, just full enough to lure me toward them and strong enough to hold me there. His hands with those bulbous tips creeping on my clothes when we lied together in my bed or sat beside each other in his car made me quiver, awkward, unsure of myself but willing to figure it out at his lead. I wrapped up in his arms, and I felt small and delicate for the first time. He had a way of making me feel like the only girl alive, and given the pressure I felt from certain other girls, it was a glorious release to be with someone who gave me a reason to believe I was worth loving, and worth loving right.
But there was that part of me, the part that had been driven into my soul for years, that didn't like to talk about feelings. I felt them, and strongly, but I only said them in moments of passion. I wouldn't tell him I loved him at the end of a phone call or in a letter, but I could say it when I was in the moment, and when I knew he needed to hear it. And when it came to talking about dreams and such, I was even more hesitant. SO many of mine had been broken. I couldn't bear to dream out loud. I barely dreamt to myself. But I had dreams, one in particular, that I could not and would not give up on.
Jeremy, bright-eyed as always when we met for lunch, had been giving me an unusually suspicious look as we ate.
"What's up?" I asked as his eyes crinkled into a smile.
"You have to tell me about them sooner or later, you know."
"Tell you about what?"
He tapped his toes against mine under the table. "Those."
My face fell as I realized he was right. I would have to tell him about them sooner or later. But not now.
"Come on," he begged. "I have known you for years, and unless you're in a game or barefoot in your house, you're wearing those things. And you have to tell me why."
"No. Not yet."
"What are you afraid of?"
He asked me this often when he was trying to get me to be more comfortable with him. It was his way of telling me I had nothing to be scared of without actually telling me. This way, I could realize on my own that I had nothing to fear with him. Except this time I did. I was afraid he'd see just how big a geek I really was. And I was afraid he's think my reason for wearing tap shoes constantly was childish.
After all, I kind of did.
"Not right now, Jeremy," I said, my face serious enough to prove my point to him.
He didn't let it go.
"Ok, you want to know what I'm afraid of? Huh?" I finally lashed out. "Ok, I'll tell you. I'm afraid you're gonna laugh at me. And if you laughed at me, my life would basically be over."
"I wouldn't laugh at you," he smiled at me. And I knew it was true. He had always been so willing to listen to my nonsense for hours on end without telling me to stop or laughing at my opinions or bratty-girl complaints.
"Tell you what..." I said, "I'll meet you in my room today, and I'll tell you all about it. But I can' do it now, okay?"
"It's a date," he winked.

I think I made him wait much longer than necessary before letting him into my room that evening. I really hated that he was getting my secret out of me. I didn't want to tell him - in fact, I would much rather have given up on my dream than explain it to him. But like I said, he had a way with me.
"Hey, pretty lady," he greeted me with a kiss as he entered my room and made his way to the bed. "So tell me everything."
I sighed. Actually, I think I stopped breathing for a moment. I was deep in this now, I had to tell him.
I couldn't.
I had to.
"I want to be a world-famous tap-dancer!" I blurted.
He raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
"What do you mean, 'that's it?' Don't you think that's ridiculous?"
"Do YOU think it's ridiculous?"
"Don't turn this around on me," I told him "This is my dream!"
"Ok, so do it"
"What?"
"Be a world-famous tap-dancer."
He told me like it was just that easy. It's wasn't.
"If you really want to dance for a living, do it. Why do you put these limits on yourself?"
I tried to get him to understand. I was next to him, holding his unusually strong hands, looking into his eyes as I implored him to hear me out at this point. "No one does this for a living anymore. Especially not girls tall as skyscrapers with a little too much meat on their bones."
"See, now, this is what annoys me," he told me. "You get so down on yourself constantly! Do you even understand how beautiful you are?"
His words caught me off guard. I'd never been called beautiful. Ever.
"You have it all, baby. You've got the looks, you've got the brains - the only thing missing is a little bit of faith."
Even at 16, I couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth These were words my father or mother should have been telling me. Instead, it was the boy I was sleeping with.
"You can do whatever you want to do, and don't ever let anyone tell you any different," he smiled as he pressed his forehead to mine It was unusual for him to open up like this, to tell me words I had only ever dreamt I'd hear a man tell me.
"You really think so?"
He stood and took me by the hands, guiding me to the middle of my room. "Show me your moves, Patch." He smiled.
"There's no music!"
He flipped to a radio station that featured big band music. He knew the station well, since it was one of my favorites. "Ok, problem solved."
"I feel silly," I giggled. "I don't wanna."
"Dance for me, and I'll take you out tonight anywhere you wanna go."
I couldn't resist that offer. We had yet to go on a real date anywhere yet, and the thought of cuddling in a movie theatre with him was too good an offer to refuse. I started with just a couple light taps of my toes, getting the beat. Then I gave it everything I had. I was tapping like a twenties hoofer in vaudeville. I even closed my eyes for some of it, picturing myself on the stage, a crowd of thousands watching, adoring. Then I focused my gaze on Jeremy as I twirled and tapped, my arms balancing me, my unusually-proportioned body using every bit of discipline in it to keep me on my toes - literally.
I finished with the big ending to the song. It wasn't my best, but it was pretty good.
"You're amazing!" he smiled as he hugged me, bobbing me back and forth.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he whispered. "So why do you wear them all the time?"
"Well, I want to be comfortable in them. I remember the first few times I wore them they were so uncomfortable, and it was so hard to dance. But then I started wearing them every day, and my feet got to feeling comfortable in them, so that's why. I want it to feel natural when I put them on."
"Well, how about you wear some heels for my tonight?" he growled in that sexy, raspy tone of his as he snuggled his nose to mine. "And then we'll go anywhere you want, just like I promised"
I rushed to the closet and picked out some yellow pumps my mom had bought me for my last birthday. She had been encouraging me to give up the tap shoes for good, therefore giving up the dream I had. I had never wanted to wear the heels since I thought it would just encourage my mom to stop believing in me, if she ever even did in the first place. But I would wear them for him. I would do anything for him.
I changed into a drop-waisted dress and leg warmers, brushed my hair out and over to the side, quaffing my bangs just right. Putting on my shiniest magenta lipstick and blue eyeshadow, I was out the door, looking like a million bucks, which is probably not too far off the amount that everything I was wearing cost.

We saw The Bedroom Window. It was definitely not the type of movie two horny teenagers should have been allowed to see, but I'm glad we did. I still have the ticket stub, and it brings back all the wonderful memories. Every time I smell popcorn, I think of that evening. Every time I go to a movie, I think about that first one with him. He would get so enraptured in the moment, investing himself in every character, predicting their moves and getting lost in the big screen. How I never predicted his future profession, I'll never know. It should have been obvious.
We would go to the movies a lot after that. We went on his birthday, Valentine's day, Easter weekend (we stayed in the theatre all that day and sneaked into 4 movies), and the day school let out for the year.
As far as our sex life, well, what can I say? We were teenagers in love. Jeremy was spending far less time with the band, and far more with me. The guys didn't exactly love that, but they dealt with it since Jeremy was the best drummer around, hands-down. I think the first time he bought condoms was one of the funniest things I'd ever witnessed in my life - he was so nervous, but he tried to act normal. He didn't know which ones to buy, how many, or what to do when there was a female clerk behind the counter. We probably only had sex once a week or so, since opportunities were few and far between. He had the band, I had basketball, and we promised each other we'd make up for lost time in the summer.

When I came home with Jeremy a couple days after school ended, I was surprised to see my mom not only home, but sitting in the living room with Scott. For once, they weren't fondling each other or inseparably close. She called me over, introduced herself to Jeremy for the 16th time, always forgetting she'd met him before, and told me she had something very serious to talk to me about.
"We're going on a trip around the world," she said sternly, as if I was being warned.
"Oh," I wasn't sure what to say, especially given the way she told me. "When do we leave?"
"No, honey. I mean we," she pointed to herself and Scott, "Are going on a trip around the world."
I understood what she was saying now. Any time she needed time away for anything, I was sent to live with my father. And even though I got along with him better, I had a reason to stay in Modesto now, and that's what I wanted to do. "How long?" I asked, tears beginning to form.
"Well, now, that's the tricky part. See, it'll be at least a year, maybe longer. Really depends on what kinds of stops we make. Now don't cry, honey. You like your dad."
"I'm not crying because of dad," I sobbed as Jeremy, uncomfortably present, began to pat my back. "This is my boyfriend, mom," I told her. "And I love him! I want to stay with him!"
"Boyfriend? Since when?"
"Since about Christmastime, I guess," Jeremy informed her, seeing I was having a hard time speaking.
"Well, I'm sorry, but you guys will just have to break up." She waiting for us to respond, but we didn't except moving in closer to each other. "These high school things never last anyways, no offense."
"I planned on making it last with her," he said. "I love her, too."
Scott placed a hand on my knee and Jeremy pushed it away, giving Scott a searing glare. "I just want you to know I'm not the bad guy," Scott said to one or both of us.
"I hate you," I whispered to Scott. "You're ruining my life."
"Come on now, honey, we can't have any talk like that. Now go up and pack. Train leaves tomorrow at noon."
"Tomorrow?" I lashed out, furious. "You're giving my not even a full day to say goodbye?"
"Sweetie, I just made the plans. I would've told you earlier, but I wasn't sure when - "
"Oh, just forget it, mom!" I yelled, not caring that Jeremy saw me in this ugly tone. "Just leave me the fuck alone!"
Jeremy followed me upstairs. As soon as I opened the door of my room, I fell in bed face-first, crying, sobbing, screaming into the covers. This was far too heavy for him to have to deal with, so he simply sat beside me, rubbing my back, probably waiting for me to stop crying, but I didn't. I cried for so long that I fell asleep that way, and when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.
And I realized he'd be gone every morning. And that killed me.