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Martin turned over and with a finger, wiped a frizzy curl out of my eyes. "You're really awesome and beautiful," he said.
And I felt awesome and beautiful, and more than that: I felt seen, as if no other girl anywhere could have been more wanted, no matter how tiny her butt, how perfect her hair or flat her belly. I could not have been more in love - with him, or with myself.
We jumped when somebody banged hard on the car window.
"Outta the car, kids!" barked an irritated male voice. I managed to get on my jeans and purple push-up bra (I'd known what was going to happen that night and had dressed for the occasion) before I scrambled out of the back seat. Martin was barefoot in half-zipped Levi's and his fully unbuttoned shirt. We stood there, two sheepish honor students, shivering in the glare of a Mag-light. The officer holding it was short and puffy with dubious authority. His partner was tall and bald, with a horseshoe-shaped moustache running down both sides of his mouth to his chin.
"I need to see your I.D.s, please," he demanded. Unlike Deputy Mag-Light, this one was all business, looking me straight in the tits when he talked. Martin and I reached in our back pockets for our driver's licenses, handed them over, and stood waiting as they were inspected.
"What are you two doing here tonight? This is private property, you know."
"Listening to the radio and talking," I answered.
"Without your shirts on?"
"Yeah. It sounds better that way," I said. Martin looked at me with wide eyes, silently begging me to keep my mouth shut, although there'd never been any previous evidence I was remotely capable of verbal self-control. We fought often, and he lost. Always.
"Young lady, I doubt your mother would be happy knowing what you're out here doing. How 'bout we escort you home and see what she has to say?"
Martin tried to step in before things - meaning me - got out of hand. "That won't be necessary sir, we'll go right home right now and..."
"Hey! Looky what I found," said Mag-light from behind me. While we were talking to the other officer, he had rummaged around Martin's grandmother's car and discovered something horribly incriminating: A rotten banana, which he now held up with two fingers and great disgust.
I burst out laughing. "I was wondering where I'd left that," I choked out.
"Shut up," Martin hissed.
"It's a banana," I protested. "What are you gonna get us for? Lewd and lascivious produce?"
Unfortunately, I was the only one who thought it was funny. Actually, I was a little scared, but I always talk too much when I'm nervous. "Your mouth is what's gonna get you in trouble every time," my father often told me. He would have relished this moment.
Posted: Tuesday, Feb 23 2010 at 11:14 AM
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