Last time I’d seen her had been the night before I’d left for college. It was raining, but not that cold, sad rain that fell down shivering until it lands just as miserably on your skin. It was a hot, angry rain, like the best sex all wet and heavy.
She was the last person I’d said goodbye too, not only because she’d been working late but really because I just wanted her to be the last person I saw, the last memory I had of home.
Her mother had come to the door when I’d knocked. She was practically my own mother by that point and when I said that I was sorry for coming by so late she’d looked at me with a half grin and told me not to be ridiculous. They say to look at the mother’s to see how a woman is going to end up looking and I had to say if she turned out like her mother it wouldn’t be such a bad deal. She wasn’t a MILF, no, but she had a body that tuned well, and her face had aged from pretty to bland, but I knew if she hadn’t smoked for so long it probably wouldn’t be as it is.
She told me that she was in the shower. I could hear the swoosh of water through the pipes to my left. The bathroom was next to the door and only a wall separated me from her naked, glistening.
I’d told her ok, I would run to my car for something real quick. I’d walked back my feet soaked from puddles, my white shoes soaked through, bullied and punched black and blue from the mud.
I did forget something, a Clatter necklace that my grandfather’s father had given him when he’d come over here from Ireland. I always imagined a thick man, not fat, but strong with calloused hands and a mess of dirty red hair under a scaly cap when I thought of my great grandfather. I always pictured him on the boat, looking at the water, maybe smoking a cob pipe, other times just contemplating the water’s gentle talk.
I’d been halfway back to the door, trudging through mud and water again when she came sprinting out of the house, a white shirt half on, a pair of short shorts tantalizing her thighs. There were no shoes on her feet and she sent explosions of water into the air with each step. She’d jumped into my arms. The rain pushed her black hair, the black I always thought of when I’d wake up in the middle of the night right before I’d opened my eyes, down her face in random patterns, clinging to her forehead and cheeks like my arms clung to her.
I probably had squeezed her just a little too hard but I had been surprised, she was always so delicate and tiny as well, but it was really I didn’t want to let her go. I don’t think she’d minded as her arms tightened so hard they’d cracked my neck. The sky continued to spit on us but I’d never been so happy.
When I put her feet down to the ground, soaked and full of grime, she had kept her hands on my waist and I’d then given her the necklace telling her that I wanted her to have it. She hadn’t refused, since she knew what it meant to me, but put it on proudly, hugged me and told me she was going to miss me.
I’d left then. We didn’t need to say anymore it was just right.

Luna.
That was what her dad had started to call her when she was little and what I always called her and when I talked to other people about her. Her father had left her and her mother alone in the house with a her little sister Alejandra, but they never held it against him. It was better than the frigid way in which her mother and father had hugged each other for the children.
She was a Latina, Venezuelan descent. The only one of her type in our little town of ours. She’d moved there our senior year and had stood out like a tree in the middle of an empty field.
I wouldn’t say I’d loved her at first sight. And I’d never kissed her, our relations were too delicate. Brushes of finger tips on the leg, a hand lingering too long on the others arm. It was all too much for me by the end of summer that to kiss her I don’t think I’d have been able to ever stop.

I got off the airplane around noon and saw my mom hoping up and down like a bouncy ball waving her arms at me. The only time she’d seen me in the past three years when she’d come out for my birthday and spent a weekend going to a football game and fancy restaurants. That was the first time I’d ever drank a beer with my mom, I sipped on it timidly at the restaurant, freshly 21 and still perturbed and feeling naughty ordering a drink.
I never liked airports. They had a staleness too them. The air was full of dread and loathing and it always smelt like a moldy air conditioner. People here all stood smoke eyed trying to get their luggage from the never ending conveyor belt line that ate the same pieces of luggage and then spit them out again the other side. I had one bag, full of all my clothes. I was only staying for two weeks.
My mom when I got to her looked frighteningly old. Her hair, when I last saw her less than a year ago, had bright strands of youth flourishing it. Now it was tamed with splashes of gray and silver. But she hugged me as she always had before, strong and full of good intentions. I gave her a friendly one armed hug, not sharing the same joyfulness that she did.
I loved my mom, and I hadn’t been home for three years because I hated home. It was just that I enjoyed being away too much. School for me is across the country in California. It was to my surprise full of people from New England looking to escape her fierceness and somber moods. California was all smiles. The sun never stopped warming my shoulders and the nights were always that cool warmth that I could only get a few special nights of summer home in Massachusetts.
Instead of coming home, which would have cost me a plane ticket, I just rented a place in the summer and lived at school year round. This was fine by me. I enjoyed California, but even though I lived there I still represented my home city of Boston by wearing my Red Sox hat and talking without saying my r’s.
It was summer now and I’d promised my mom last time I’d seen her that I’d come home for at least a little bit of the summer. Your father misses you, she’d told me as I’d drank that first beer of being 21, a Budweiser full of taste from the tap. Even when younger she had this impregnating look that would put a seed of guilt in me until it grew to proportions I couldn’t resist. Billy misses you too. My little brother who I probably hadn’t talked to for more than a total of an hour in the three years I’d been away from home.
I’d asked her how he was doing and she said again, he needs his big brother to teach him things. But I’d just given her a grim look until she told me about his life. At the time he’d had a girlfriend, a nice blonde with beautiful eyes my mom had said. He was starting on the Soccer team, and ran track in the winter and spring. I tried to picture my brother then as the full seventeen year old he now was. But all I’d been able to conjure up was an awkwardly slim kid whose eyes always found their way to the floor in a conversation.

At nights in school I’d lay in my bed staring up at the ceiling. Everything would be quiet except for the compassionate hum from the air conditioner. At these times I usually wouldn’t be able to sleep, I was cursed with thinking too much.
The intricacies of a ceiling always kept my mind turning over different things. I’d learned to let the plaster above my head become a medium in which to understand what was troubling me. Rarely did I get up from my bed when I couldn’t sleep. Instead I’d just lay there and every now and then shift the blanket to a more comfortable position.
Those sleepless nights I’d constantly think of Luna. Far away across the continent, past plains, fields, and mountains. I was on one ocean and she was on the other.
I’d often imagine her lying awake at nights like I did. Except in my visions her fingers were idly toying with the necklace I had given her. She’d be staring up at the ceiling at 3 am, touching that necklace and wondering about me so far away.

I’d asked Teddy one time about Luna. Asked him how she was doing. I’d asked him actually how my wife was doing because I firmly believe that one day she will be my wife. She was too perfect to have someone like her come around again for a second time. I could still picture her mahogany colored skin, her calves toned and playful. The way she pursed her lips when saying no no no.
He had said she was fine. I’d asked her if he was keeping an eye out for her jokingly. Of course he’d told me. I asked her if she had any boyfriends and he’d paused on the phone before telling me, look, things change. I asked him what he meant and he told me that Luna had a boyfriend, an old rich bag she’d been seeing for the past year.
I don’t believe him but it didn’t stop me thinking for about two weeks of her in bed with some old man whose skin hangs on his body like too many pearls on a rich chick.
It was all I could do to not shut my eyes. Every time I did I’d picture her in bed with an old man. Her on top of him eyes shut and hands behind her on his old scabbed knees. I saw his hands running over her taunt stomach. His hands exploring her small, careful breast. My body would shake and I think I’d broken up to ten pencils in class. I couldn’t imagine her with some hack, a rich hack at that, fucking him just for his money. When I asked Teddy about it later she’d told me they’d broken up. I asked him why, and he said he believed she was sick of waiting for him to die, or that he wasn’t giving her a penny when he did.

I don’t know why Luna and I never kept in touch while I’ve been away. I talked to her a few times on the phone the first year but then we just drifted apart. It never stopped my vision of us together at some point. It didn’t bother me that we didn’t talk we were both busy and we would meet up again in the future and continue right where we started.
I know she’ll always be as incredible, despite what people say, to me.

And yes, there’s been girls. I wasn’t celibate just because I expected at some point to spend the rest of my life with Luna. I would settle down then, preferably after college when it was time, the right time.
I’m not one for rushing anything and I was completely content being at school around thousands of girls I’d never met before. It was college and all that it was all it was hyped up to be. I wasn’t a frat boy. I lived in the dorms and off campus. I also wasn’t one of those guys who threw roofies in girl’s drinks so I could tag them. I preferred the old tried and true method of persuasive talking and slick glances from across the room.
While there were girls none I could say were really serious even though I had actually had one girl for about six months throughout sophomore year. She was fantastic, a real keeper for anybody other than me. I was happy with her and it wasn’t Luna that made it not work, it was my insatiable urge for change. I eventually got bored with her. Never cheated on her or lied to her about my intentions for leaving. Told her flat out I just needed some change.
I ran through a bunch of different girls and just let them keep coming. Through dry spells I didn’t fret, and when things were hot, usually the beginning of the year, I was more than content. I can honestly say I didn’t care if I got any or not. The act of perusing was enough fun.
I had no illusions that Luna had been celibate either. A girl that looks that good was going to get attention. Especially the way she held her self, damn. She had that proud Latina stance, the way she walked accentuated every ounce of confidence that just flew out of her mouth as she spoke to you. But then there was that calming look in her eyes like I’m wild true, but I can also whisper to you at night every little thing you want to hear.
I didn’t think much about her with other guys, while it did bother me and I was jealous. I had this vision of her trapped in time, still single and the Luna I had known.

When I first got home things were strange. If I had been around I wouldn’t notice the small things that had changed, like the old toaster that always smelt like smoke when I cooked Pop Tarts was now changed to a shinny, blue toaster full of buttons I didn’t understand. It didn’t feel like home and I didn’t feel like I belonged.
The couch was the same as I remembered it. It molded itself brilliantly to my ass saying to me I missed you. But for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to throw my feet up and lean back like I so wanted to. My mom fussed over me asking me what I wanted to eat. She looked like a squirrel crossing the road when a car comes and it jumps back and forth not knowing where to go.
My brother wasn’t home, neither was my dad. Both were, strange as the concept was for me at work. Mom said to me that my brother probably wouldn’t be back till later since he’d met this new girl at work and had been hanging out with her a lot after. He was a waiter and I couldn’t really imagine the shy brother I’d left at the age of fourteen, now serving people with a charming smile on his face to get more tips.
While my mom cooked I told her I was going out to get some things. I asked if I could borrow her car and shakily she agreed still hesitant of me driving even though I’d been driving for a solid five years now. It felt good in some strange way to know she still thought of me as her little boy. I suppose it was easier for her to imagine me that way then to envision me all grown up and not needing her anymore. One day if I have kids, I’m sure I’ll understand and look back knowingly.
Driving felt good. I put the window down and let the cool New England breeze welcome me back. The roads felt more home to me than my house did. The familiarity of the roads and houses was calming and gentle. I decided to take a drive through the town since the car had over half a tank. Like my house, the changes in shops or colors of houses were jarring to me. I couldn’t help but be annoyed to see the old music shop changed to a soulless building with a for sale sign in the dusty window. The sub shack had burned down leaving a blackened crater where it used to stand in between the baby store and the barber shop with the shady old guy who I had always thought liked the kids whose hair he cut just a little too much.
I drove through my town past the houses and more than a few times thought I saw a few people I knew in cars. I didn’t have as many numbers as I did when I’d first left for school since I’ve averaged a phone a year. I didn’t want to see anybody right away. Only person I really cared to see at all was Luna. A few of my friends from the high school days I did miss and wanted to see how they’d grown without me.
I went to the liquor store finally and bought myself a twelve pack of Sam Adam’s Summer Ale to commemorate being home in my own way. Driving back to the house I’d nearly stopped at the water. The coastline so different from that of California’s, it’s rough, trembling coast beautiful only to those who had been raised in New England’s turbulent weather. I always looked at the ocean in Cali differently then the ocean here. There weren’t waves like there, but it looked angrier. I loved the water here and my breathing took it into my throat as I drove by sticking my head out the window like a dog and smelling the salty air.
When I got home my dad was back and looked stunned to see me with beers in my hand. He soon shook the notion out of his head remembering that I was now of age and shook my hand happily. He didn’t say much, as I didn’t expect him to get all weepy, just asked me if I would help him move a log from a tree he’d cut down in the front yard.
We didn’t talk much moving the logs but I could tell that my father was happy I was home. It felt good to be wanted and I imagined for a moment how good it was going to feel to see how much Luna missed me.
My brother got home later that night while my dad and I were sipping on the Summer Ale I’d bought and watching the Sox game. He looked comfortable in the house while I looked out of place and went to the fridge before saying hi. The change in him was profound. He’d grown a good six inches in just three years and from under his tight shirt he was lean and walked with agility in each of his steps.
He sat down next to us with a quick hi and a slap of hands. A lot had changed in just three years I realized. The frozen in time photograph of home I’d allowed to linger in my head was not really how things were at all.

Luna’s window in her house was directly above the porch. I use to sneak up the side of it, climbing like a burglar and crawling through her window late at night. More often then not I’d do this when I was drunk around two AM coming home from a party. It would knock three times on the window if she didn’t see me right away and wait for her to let me in.
Often times I hoped to catch her changing, or playing with herself. Something sexy and juicy. I hoped she wouldn’t see me and I could watch, my own personal show, but I’d never had that kind of luck when I’d come by.
Some of my favorite times were there with her in her room late at night. We’d whisper quietly to each other trying not to wake up her parents when we’d laugh to loud like we were prone to make each other. Thinking back now it’s hard to believe that we’d never even kissed or one of us hadn’t made a move. I don’t know if she ever liked me as I did her, I never brought up my feelings to her or did she bring up hers to me, but I liked to believe that she did. It amazes me we didn’t make a move, she would be sitting in her pajamas, hair pulled back and sleep dragging down her eyes giving her a weary, beautiful look.
When I thought back to her that was usually how I did, ready for bed and waiting for me to just move in and make her mine.

Sometime in the summer going into sophomore year I’d come home from work tired and covered in food from busing at the local Outback and found an unexpected email from Luna’s mom. I’d kept in touch with her over time more than I had Luna. On my birthdays and Christmas she’d send me an email. I’d always respond saying thank you and tell Luna I said hi.
The email she’d sent me had fifteen pictures of her daughter. They were varied pictures of her with her friends or just of her. The smile was the same in every single picture. We shared that in common, it didn’t matter the situation the smile was the same in the photos, to see what was going on in our expressions you had to look at our eyes. I did just that for about a week straight when I’d gotten that email. I looked at her eyes, and every single crack that her smile caused in her face. In the photos she was how I imagined her.
I could see in each of the photos her mouth opening in laughter and her hand hitting my arm. The way she pursed her lips when blowing a fake kiss and the serious look she threw on when I said something that pissed her off.
Proudly, I showed all my friends who were impressed even though we were in Cali and the forefront of the illegal immigrant storm. They all saw Latina’s every day and still were whistling and giving me pats on the back when they saw her picture.
Still though I hid the pictures away on my computer like it was kiddy porn. I put in files I know nobody would ever wander through. Even though they were nothing shocking I felt wrong having them on my computer. If my roommates came over when I was looking at them on the computer I’d shut it quickly and blush like I’d just been caught beating off to some cheap online porn.
I didn’t look at the pictures the frequency of the first few nights but nonetheless, usually late at night, I’d sit and look at those pictures and my heart would break with each flick of the computers slide show.

Something I’d never planned on was being scared shitless to actually call her. It’s been three days since I’d been home and I went to pick up the phone finally to call her and my fingers shook after the third number and I put down the receiver ashamed of myself.
I tried again but had to stop and close my eyes just to catch my breath. I should have expected it though. I know that I built her up so highly in my mind, and created a perfect vision of her that couldn’t really live up to my expectations. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to live with the real thing or if I’d rather live with my untarnished dream of her.
Instead of calling her I call Davie and he tells me to come over. Davie wasn’t surprised to hear from me and was one of those people who were in general apathetic to everything. Anything that life threw his direction he just took in stride, packed another lip and spit into his Poland Spring bottles.
When I got to his house I noticed not much had changed. The same line of beer bottles and cans line the wall as before and the den where we hung out was still a disaster. Bottles of dip spit were always everywhere and you had to smell everything before you took a sip just in case you accidentally picked up the wrong thing and ended up instead of a soda with a sip of warm, brown tobacco. The pool table was still standing, due to some divine miracle since so much crap had been spilled, so many people had screwed, and so many games of beer pong had been played on it by all natural laws of nature it should have long ago been tossed.
Davie, despite not seeing him for three years, didn’t get up to say hi. He was too engrossed in a game of Madden to move. In between plays he spit into a carton of milk. That was one I’d never seen before.
Tim was there as well, a lot fatter then I’d remembered with his shirt pulling up over his belly button showing a forest of hair invaded by lint and dirt. It was early, only about one or two in the afternoon, but they were both drinking and Bud Light cans lined the floor.
I sat down in the same, cum, puke, piss, beer, bong water stained couch I’d sat on through most of high school. I noted that I sat in the same spot and it sagged a lot more than I remembered.
I told Davie I liked what he did with the place and he just laughed. The three of us shot the shit for a while. To no surprise Davie was out of school for bad grades. Sleep or classes in the morning wasn’t much of a choice for him. He was working with his older brother fixing up cars. For the first time I could see his finger nails were lined with black. Tim was in school, but had transferred to a community college. A year of and four semesters later he still didn’t know what he wanted to major in so took a collage of classes instead. I suddenly wasn’t too sorry that I hadn’t been home.
They were my friends. That hadn’t changed. Just our places in life, they sat back still pissing themselves drunk at night in the same places they’d been before I’d left. I was still getting stupid drunk, but at least I was getting an education and trying to move my life forward.
They offered me a lip, something I hadn’t done in years. But since it’d been so long since I’d seen them I felt obligated and finally put in a miniscule lip. When the smell wafted near my nose I gagged violently but tried not to too loudly so they wouldn’t make fun of me. I found myself reverting to my old ways of caring what they thought of me. I didn’t talk as much as I used to, and my answers were short.
The Skoal hit me harder then I’d expected. It shouldn’t have surprised me since I could never handle it but I found my stomach reeling and both of my hands clutching onto the couch desperately trying to hold on as my vision started to spin.
I took it out after a weak ten minutes and I could see the loathing in their eyes that I had acted like such a little bitch but I felt so sick and displaced that I hardly even cared.
When I didn’t feel I was going to vomit anymore I took a sip of water, still tasting the dip and asked about the people from high school. They had information of everybody, since they’d kept in touch. Listening to them I felt that nothing at all had really changed. When I asked about Luna though, Davie had given a snort and Tim rolled his eyes.
I asked them what and they just looked at me like I already knew. I said it can’t be that bad but Davie just snorted again. Tim took it upon himself to educate me on the reputation of Luna since I’d been gone telling me that she had become quite the whore letting more than a few guys hit it. The dudes she went for though were the ones with money. She liked the rich boys with the nice cars and nice clothes. She was a material whore.
I didn’t believe them of course and just laughed it off saying no way, not Luna I know her. Davie, having just finished a game of Madden looked at me seriously and told me that people change. I just waved my hand at him saying na, I didn’t believe. Ok they said, shaking their heads at me.
The rest of the time I couldn’t keep my mind on being with my friends. My mind turned over what they said until I found myself angry and left telling them I had some family thing to do.

In Cali I used to think I’d see Luna everywhere. I would be at the mall and see a girl and think it was her, I’d almost yell out her name but then I’d blink and realize it wasn’t. A lot of times it didn’t even look like her.
That was the thing was the thing. I knew I wasn’t just into Spanish chicks since they were different. I was in Cali and there was Latina’s everywhere and I wasn’t drooling and losing sleep over ‘em.
All that had done was just reaffirm what I’d known all along about Luna that she was supposed to be mine.

Now a week after Davies and I still hadn’t called her. I found myself even more scared then I was before after what Davie and Tim told me. I suddenly found myself remembering what Teddy had said to me while I’d been at school about the old man she’d been with.
Home had been what I’d expected. I barely saw anybody and spent a lot of down time eating pizza and catching up on movies. I found I didn’t have as much time to catch up on flicks as I wanted to over at school. It was relaxing living in another world full of romance and happiness coupled with violence and gratuitous drug use.
There was one pizza place that I had missed at home. I told everybody every time that I took a bite of pizza at school about how they were missing the greasy goodness that was Louie’s. That was where I find myself now when I unexpectedly saw Luna’s mother and her sister Alejandra.
Alejandra was the first one I saw. She walked in and I had noticed her right away as looking beautiful despite being dressed slightly tomboyish. She had on a white polo shirt and baggy jeans hanging down loosely showing off her underwear seductively. I usually didn’t go for tomboys but she caught my eye. She was too young for me though that I could tell, but I couldn’t help but look. I noticed that she looked a little like Luna then it hit me as she smiled brightly.
She came over and gave me a hug and as if on cue her mother walked in behind her and came over and gave me a big loving hug as well. I was so caught off guard that I could hardly talk to them. All I could do was think of Luna and my answers were sheepish and I fingered the handle of the door for the sodas nervously.
They asked me how I was doing and school and when I got home. Her mom looked at me sternly and asked why I hadn’t stopped by yet. She asked me if I’d seen Luna and I said I’d been busy and was hoping too. Luna’s mom did most of the talking and I gave quick answers trying to not to come off as rude, just tired or something.
I noticed as her mother was interrogating me on the years she’d missed in my life that Alejandra was giving me a look I couldn’t quite ignore. Her eyes were studying me up and down and she gave me a grin. I knew the look and it was seductive. I asked her how old she was now and she told me eighteen which sounded about right. Every bit of her eighteen years jumped off her.
The awkwardness of the situation left me stranded. When my pizza was ready I nearly sprinted to get it. I gave her mom a hug promising I’d stop by soon not quite sure if I would. Her sister gave me a hug and whispered in my ear bye all sexy like and I couldn’t look at her because she looked good and I knew I’d be turned on.
Driving back to my house I put my hand on my head, thinking about Luna, and thinking how wrong it would be for me to tag her younger sister.

The party I was at was loud. That isn’t to say it was fun since I saw everybody I’d missed but I also saw everybody I really hoped to never have to see again. It was the usual crowd sitting on the back deck passing a bowl along. In the bedroom it was the same group of kids who locked the door to blow lines then come out looking like a born again Christian. The friends who used to get jammed off Percocets still were. And of course everyone was still drinking too heavily.
I’d heard that people who had gone to college were more prone to being alcoholics later in life and I believed it. Looking at the room, with a good amount of the kids home from college, it was understandable as people played games left and right to get as drunk as possible. Of Course I participated. A bunch of games of baseball later and I’d realized I was all sorts of screwed up. I stumbled around stupidly and ended up hooking up with a girl who’d graduated two years after me.
We’d gone to one of the bedrooms in the house. The kid whose house it was, a high school senior, had a little sister and we spent all of two seconds flinging away carebear dolls and a ragged, chewed on stuffed teddy bear. The bed sheets were so pink it nearly hurt my eyes and the little mattress felt like it would give out as I fell on top of the girl trying to take her bra off drunk.
Before I knew it she was giving me head. Then we were screwing. Anything our minds could come up with we tried out. Didn’t matter what. The room must have stunk with the smell of sex and sweated out beer. But I didn’t notice. More than once someone walked in. Laughed and shut the door. We didn’t stop.
Afterwards, she’d given me head again before leaving. She spent a few minutes getting changed and redoing her hair in the mirror and I sat on the bed, everything still hanging out, watching her put on her clothes unembarrassed. I watched her do her hair and blow a kiss to the mirror.
When she left I sat there for a moment looking up at the ceiling wondering if I was going to throw up. The sex had been a workout and I’d drank too much to begin with. I lay on the bed, noticing a stain next to me on the blanket decorated with hearts and stars. My head was on an ugly, purple heart shaped pillow.
I tried to think of what number girl she was. Then I had to go through and recreate all the one night stands and different girls I’d taken down. I felt ashamed sitting there, not because I was naked in some poor little girl’s bed, but because I couldn’t even remember all of them.
Then I thought to myself that I really didn’t want to keep going on like this anymore.

I had two days left at home and I found myself sitting on the seawall drinking out of a small flask of Captain Morgan’s. I was yet to see Luna and I knew that I had to man up and finally see her. The rum was to give me some balls, the ocean to calm my nerves.
The moon was full blown epic over the water. The stars hung like tear drops in the sky next to it. Her body was fully formed, curved into a perfect circle. The moon looked closer then it had before, and I traced the lines of the craters with my eyes. The clouds danced around her, giving her space where she shined and the area of the glow touched the night sky giving it a purple brilliance.
I watched the water move for a while. Trying to get lost in its melody. I knew I was only procrastinating and with a sigh got up and went to the car. Driving along I went the familiar route to Luna’s house which I’d passed more than a few times over the past week, going out of my way and slowing down when I reached the house to see if I could see her. When I didn’t I’d speed away embarrassed hoping that she hadn’t seen me.
I parked a house down, where the trees would block my car and nobody from the house could see me. It was late, around one o’clock. I knew I would climb up the porch to her window. Her car was in the driveway along with another car I didn’t recognize.
I took a last swig of rum before stepping out of the car, cringing as I stepped on acorns that sounded like hand grenades going off on the quiet street. I wasn’t drunk, but I wouldn’t pass a breathalyzer test either.
The front of her house loomed in front of me at first but after I shook my head I could see it was the same house I was familiar with. The fear I had of seeing her began to disappear as I remember how she ran in the rain to meet me. I smiled, wondering why I had been so stupid and hadn’t seen her yet. The excuse that we had the rest of our lives seemed like a cop out.
Climbing the porch came with surprising ease. Each step seemed melded to my foot and like it hadn’t forgotten me. I reached the top of the porch and knelt proudly. I finally would see her. I shuffled over to the window which was dark but was almost positive she was there since she hated not having her car with her and almost always chose to drive.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the moon over the house across the street. It looked as if it were sitting on top of the chimney.
I shuffled over to her window carefully since last thing I needed was to slip off the porch. I went to knock on the window before my hand paused inches from the glass and I sat confused at the scene in front of me.
First I felt confusion, but then it turned to anger, then it turned to horror.
I could see on the bed Luna. Naked and glistening with sweat like I’d always prayed to see her when I snuck up to her window. Screwing her from behind was a guy, muscled and toned concentrating with a smirk on the job at hand. In front of Luna, was another guy whose fingers dug into the back of her head as she blew him. His head was turned up looking at the ceiling as he bit his lower lip.
I could see Luna’s body. It was better than I’d imagined. I recognized the two guys after a while. Two rich pricks, Robbie and Tony who always flaunted their cash, drove BMW’s and had their hair gelled to perfection. The few moments I watched felt like forever. Nobody noticed me being too occupied with the job at hand. I heard Luna give out a gagged moan. It was like the kid’s dick was a microphone she’d shoved into her mouth and still tried to sing. I could see that Luna didn’t have on the necklace I had given her.
My reflection was barely visible in the window. I could see the moon next to my face in the glass. It looked broken and twisted in the reflection.
I moaned right after Luna did, clutching at my stomach. My legs shook, and I laid down on top of the porch before they could give out on me.

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