Free Boy Minus Girl by Richard Uhlig Page A

bed.

    Later that morning I phone Charity several times, but her line is always busy. Who can she be talking to for two hours? That Lauren? I have an urgent need to profess how I feel about her. I must see her now! I run to my closet, take out my black and red magician’s cape and affix it to my neck, load my magic red rose inside my right shirtsleeve, and put on my black top hat. There.
    “What the hell, Les?” Uncle Ray asks from the beanbag, where he’s tuning his guitar.
    “I’m going to get my girl!”
    “Dressed like
that
?”
    Outside, I straddle my bike and speed off, my cape billowing behind me. As I roll across the Missouri Pacific railroad tracks, I pray.
    Dear Jesus . . . I’ll give my life to the Lutheran Church, I’ll never daydream through another sermon, if You’ll let her say yes. Amen
.
    Soon I’m on Charity’s street. I ditch my bike on the lawn, leap up on the porch, and knock on the screen door. The sweet scent of cookies baking wafts out.
    “Who is it?” Charity calls from somewhere inside.
    “It’s Les!”
    “It’s open!”
    The living room is comfortable-looking, with lots of magazines and ceramic figurines. An old-timey organ dominates the wall behind the dining table.
    “In the kitchen!” she says.
    I find Charity, in jeans and a tight white T-shirt, standing at the stove, smiling over her shoulder at me. “You’re just in time for cookies, Booger. What’s with the outfit?”
    She holds a spatula in her right hand as she transfers the cookies from the baking sheet onto a cooling rack.
    “Charity, I need to tell you something.” I’m breathless.
    “I’m all ears.” She places the empty cookie sheet and spatula in the sink.
    “Are we alone?”
    She nods as she pulls off her baking mitt. “Dad’s at work and Grandma’s playing a funeral.”
    I lower myself onto one knee, extend my arm, and pop the rose out of my right sleeve, holding it out for her.
    “Uh, thanks,” she says. “But what’s all this for?”
    I draw in a deep breath and remove my top hat while slowly exhaling the words: “Charity Conners, I’m in love with you.”
    She stares at me.
    “There, I said it.”
    Wait. Wait some more. Why is she staring at me with that
look
? Why hasn’t she taken the rose? A gnawing begins in the pit of my stomach.
    “Do you feel the same about me?” Ach! My voice is a squeak.
    “No, Les, I’m afraid I don’t.”
    The rose drops from my grip.
    “I’m sorry,” she says. “But you see . . . I just can’t. Not like that.”
    When I stagger to my feet, the cape catches under my heel and starts to rip. “But we’re perfect for each other!” I say. It is hard to breathe and speak at the same time. “I mean, we have so much in common. You said yourself I’m your only real friend in town.”
    “Yes, I said ‘friend.’ ”
    I swallow the knot in my throat. “But we can be so much more if you’ll just give us a chance. That’s all I’m asking for, a chance.”
    “I’m sorry, Les.”
    “I—I can’t believe you’re being so . . . so closed-minded about this!” I am nearly shouting, my chest is heaving.
Keep it cool—maybe she’s just scared?
    “Les, what I’m about to tell you, you’ve got to promise not to tell a soul. Do you promise? Not a soul.”
    I nod.
    “I like girls.”
    “What?”
    “I’m a lesbian, Les.”
    “You’re you are? Seriously?”
    She nods, her eyes dead serious.
    “One hundred percent?” I ask.
    “One hundred percent.”
    Feeling light-headed, I lean against the refrigerator and put my sweaty palms to my face.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This. Is. Not. Happening.
    “Are you okay?” she asks.
    “How long have you known?” I say through my fingers.
    “Pretty much my whole life.”
    “Have you ever dated guys?”
    She shakes her head. “Guys just don’t do it for me. Sorry.”
    “But how do you know that if you’ve never dated one?”
    “Les, I know.” She reaches into her black feathered