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Back Together?

6:11 A.M., Sunday, May 10, 2015

Honolulu, HI

Paula Akron lay nude on a blanket in her back yard, gazing into the morning sky. There were a few clouds, still tinged with the rosy colors of dawn. That one looked like two people hugging, or dancing. Making love? No, it didn’t really look like that, well not much.

Not for the first time the little girl wondered what it would really feel like to make love. She was too little for that right now, of course; sex was for grown-ups or teenagers. She wasn’t in any hurry, but she did think about it. She knew she could be satisfied for the next five, six, maybe seven years hugging and kissing.

But she wasn’t satisfied not having Paul around. Maybe if her family had moved away, she could get over him, but he was right next door! He was in her class!

Those clouds did sort of look like a couple making love. Paula sighed; she’d probably never actually do it. If it wasn’t Paul, then what was the point? She sure missed him.

With another sigh the eight year old child stood up, slung the blanket over her shoulder, and headed back inside. She gave one more glance, as she so often did, to the fence which separated her back yard from the Macons’. Right next door, and it might as well be a million miles.

What was that? Paper airplane?

6:12 A.M., Sunday, May 10, 2015

Honolulu, HI

Paul Macon couldn’t see into the Akrons’ back yard. The fence was lined with foliage on his side of the fence, and on hers. This was why, the little girl had explained to him some time ago, her parents allowed her to run around naked in the back yard. The kids had discussed rigging up periscopes but had never gotten around to it.

But they had tossed a ball back and forth, and once a paper airplane. This was why Paul thought that his plan had a chance: because it was based on something which had worked before. Of course, it might be one of her parents who found the note, instead of Paula, and he didn’t know if they would give it to her. How much had she told them about the breakup? Did they even know the children had been a couple at all?

Still, he had to chance it, so he wrote the note, folded it into the proper aerodynamic shape, and launched it across the fence. He stood there, staring as if he were trying to use X-ray vision or something, and then turned to go back into the house.

After breakfast and a few cartoons, the eight year old boy returned to the back yard. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a paper airplane, stuck nose-first in the bushes by the fence. His heart fell when he saw that it was the same one he had thrown an hour before. So, she had rejected his request to talk things over.

But wait! Was that purple ink peeking out from under a fold? He had written his note in green. Quickly unfolding the paper, he read his own note:

Dear Paula,

I hate being broke up. I think about you all the time. When I don’t see you and I don’t get to play with you, it’s like, I don’t know, like I don’t have enough vitamins or something. It’s like I’m not really healthy without you, like a vitamin. I’m really, really, a million reallies sorry. Can I talk to you?

Then he read her answer:

I miss you too. I’m sorry too. I can talk to you in the shed after lunch.

1:11 P.M., Sunday, May 10, 2015

Honolulu, HI

Paul arrived at the shed just in time to see Paula leaving. He was late.

He had chafed at every delay. He’d wanted to eat lunch early, but then he’d realized that, since Paula wouldn’t know he was eating lunch early, he’d just be sitting around in an empty shed. After lunch, his mother had insisted that he help with dishes. It was fair: he helped get them dirty after all. But it was another delay, and if he was late Paula might decide he had changed his mind and then she might leave and then what would he do he could throw another paper airplane but maybe this time...

It was 1:02 AM by the time he was able to get out of the house, and he took his bike instead of walking, as he had planned. Anything to get to that shed before Paula left.

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The shower was everything Becky expected it to be, and more. Every nerve was on sensory overload; the warm water beating on their bodies as they kissed under the spray, the wonderful feel of his hands all over her body as he soaped her up from head to toe. Bill took his time with her body, seemingly memorizing every bit of her, making sure he touched every square millimeter of her skin like he was a blind man, and her skin was written in Braille.Then once he had rinsed her off, he knelt in the...

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