by Ken Bullard * © 2017
This story is for Stephanie Young and Keith Tew, who suggested the characters of Sandy and Cleveland.
Sandy Stinson woke up miserable. She always dreaded the first day of school. She dreaded the kids who pretended she didn’t exist (most of them); she dreaded the kids who ridiculed her mercilessly (the others); she dreaded being around any new kids, because you could never know what to expect from them; and she dreaded meeting the teachers. The list could go on and on. At least she’d gotten her hair washed last night. Granted, she had to wash it with a bar of Ivory soap because they’d been out of shampoo for two weeks, but better clean and stiff than dirty and greasy. Her mom had managed to spare enough quarters to get some laundry done too, so even her clothes were clean.
She sat down for breakfast (a stale muffin her mom had bought at the discount bread store the week before). Sandy ate alone. Her mother, Janice, wouldn’t wake up until noon, since she’d had to tend bar at the club last night.
Sandy had a few minutes, so she got out her notebook and wrote.
I eat what would feed no one
I live where no one should live
I look at those worse off than I
And wish I had something to give
She looked at what she’d written and made a face. God that was awful. She loved to write poetry, but she always hated the poetry she wrote once it was on paper. She took the notebook back to her bedroom and laid it on the wooden crate that served as a bedside table. Time to catch the bus and face another year of hell. At least she was a senior now. She only had to survive 180 more days, and she would be free.
Cleveland E. Wolf woke up anxious. He was always anxious on the first day of school, but this year more than most. Three weeks ago, his family had moved from their home in the suburbs of Richmond to the small town of Hillston. So now there was nobody he knew, and people tended to shy away from Cleveland, though he never understood why. He thought he was a pretty nice guy, but most kids teased him for being so “weird” and wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Now he was facing a new school. Maybe he would make friends here. But on the other hand, it might be even worse in this little southern town where he didn’t know anybody. He put sunscreen all over his arms, neck, and face, and once it had dried a bit, pulled on his dark blue polo shirt (because it was Tuesday) and buttoned it up tight. He combed his pumpkin orange hair, and headed downstairs.
Cleveland sat down for breakfast with his parents and his little brother, Desmond. His father was an insurance underwriter, and would rarely converse on any other subject. His work had transferred him to this new town. His mother had been a paralegal in Richmond. She was looking for similar work here. Desmond was entering 3rd grade this year, so most of the focus was on him. Cleveland was entering 12th grade, so his parents figured he knew the ropes.
When breakfast was over, Cleveland went back to his room to practice for another half hour before he went to school. He played several instruments exceptionally well, but his favorite was the alto flute. On that, he was a virtual prodigy. He found its low, mellow tone the most soothing of the instruments he had. Playing music eased his anxiety for a short while.
Soon enough though, it was time to go to school. His mom took him and dropped him off in front of the school. He got out of the car and faced the imposing old building. He was still standing there staring at it as his mother drove away.
He’d stood there for a minute when a huge black guy with cornrows in his hair leaned in front of him.
“Hey man! What’s up?” Cleveland was a little frightened, but the guy was smiling.
“You’re new here right? My name’s Dee Tew. No relation to R2-D2.” He held out his hand, and after a moment’s pause, Cleveland took it and gave a vigorous shake.
“Yes. I am new here. My name is Cleveland E. Wolf. I’m pleased to meet you Dee.”
Dee smiled big. Cleveland thought he might like this giant fellow student.
“Good to meet you too, Cleveland. You know where to go? I’ll be glad to help you find your homeroom.”
“I’m in Mrs. Young’s homeroom. I think I remember where it is. My mother brought me last week to get registered and the secretary showed me where the room is. I didn’t get to meet Mrs. Young though. She was out to lunch with some other teachers.”
“I’m in Mrs. Young’s homeroom too. Awesome. Come on, let’s get good seats before they’re all snatched up.”
As they walked down the hall, everyone called out hellos to Dee. He got high-fived, low-fived, back-slapped, head-rubbed, and whistled at. Girls batted their eyes at him coyly.
When they got to Mrs. Young’s room, most of the seats were still empty. Dee took a seat in the middle of the room, and motioned Cleveland to a seat on his left. Cleveland took it.
Sandy got off the bus and headed straight for Mrs. Young’s room. The sooner she got there, the better chance she would have of getting her favorite seat – middle row, window side. She walked down the halls with her head bowed down. No eye-contact, no insults. Hopefully.
She did hear a few people laugh as she went by, and she heard someone say “dirty girl” under their breath. She made it to the classroom with no real trouble though, and got her favorite seat.
The Dee was in the room already. He was the only really nice guy in the whole school. Even though his parents were rich, he drove a fancy car, he was a jock on the football team, and was surely the most popular kid in the school, he still always spoke to her when he saw her. They weren’t friends, but he was always friendly. He was in the middle row, as always. Beside him was a pasty faced red headed guy she’d never seen before. Dee seemed to be playing big-brother for him. Just like Dee.
“Hey Sandy,” Dee called to her after she’d taken her seat. “How was your summer?”
Sandy wasn’t much of a smiler, but you just couldn’t talk to Dee without smiling, at least a little. “Okay.” She said, “Nothing special.”
Dee motioned to the pale guy, “This is my man, Cleveland. He’s new here this year.” Then turning to Cleveland, “This is Sandy. She’s got an artist’s soul.” Sandy nodded at Cleveland, said “Hi,” and then turned around and opened her battered book of poems by Mary Oliver. She felt a little better. Being told she had an artist’s soul was nice. Leave it to Dee.
The girl caught Cleveland’s eye as soon as she came in the room. Now she was slumped down reading a book – which always impressed him. He liked people who read. When Dee spoke to her and she looked up and smiled a little… gosh she was pretty. Her eyes were so dark brown he couldn’t even see her pupils. Her hair was shoulder length, and the color of her eyes. It looked a little different from the way girl’s hair usually looked. He wondered what it would feel like to touch it. And her face was just about the cutest he’d ever seen.
When Dee introduced them, and she said “Hi” to him, his heart beat harder, but she almost immediately turned around and opened her book. He leaned over just enough to be able to see the irregular lines of poetry in the book. She was reading poetry on the first day of school, when it couldn’t have been an assignment. That meant she actually liked poetry. She really did have an artist’s soul, just like Dee said.
He wondered why Dee didn’t choose the seat by Sandy. Maybe Dee already had a girlfriend. Probably someone like him would.
Cleveland didn’t notice much as the other kids came in and took seats, and he had a hard time concentrating as Mrs. Young was talking, because he was sitting right beside such a pretty girl. He liked her already. But he knew she’d never look twice at someone like him.
As the second week of school started, Sandy got a shock. She always went straight to homeroom when she got off the bus, and was normally the first one in the room. But when she came in today, Cleveland was already there. When he saw her come in, he jumped up from his seat.
“Hi Sandy.”
“Hi Cleveland.”
“I know you don’t really know me, but I brought you a present.”
Sandy had no idea how to react to this. Cleveland had barely spoken to her the previous week, though she sometimes felt sure she saw him looking at her out of the corner of her eye. If it had been most people, she would have immediately assumed there was a cruel joke about to happen at her expense, but Cleveland didn’t seem like that type. On the other hand, what possible reason could he have for bringing her a present? She was so taken aback she just looked at him and said nothing.
He got more flustered than he already was. “It’s nothing special. I just thought you might like it.” He reached in his book bag and brought out an actual gift-wrapped present. It was in pink and silver paper with a pink ribbon and bow on it. “I hope you like it. You can open it now if you want to.”
A couple of other kids came in the room, and Sandy quickly shoved the present in her backpack. “I’ll open it later.” She sat back down. She looked back at Cleveland, and she knew from the look on his face, that whatever the gift was, and whatever his motivations for giving it to her – he wasn’t trying to play a joke. He wanted her to have it. She added belatedly, “Thank you. I’d rather open it at home if that’s okay.”
“Sure Sandy. I hope you like it.” He finally sat back down.
A few moments later Dee came in, waved to Sandy, and then looked at Cleveland and said, “Geez Cleve, you feelin’ all right? You’re sweating like a big-dog!”
Sandy sat and bowed her head low into her book, but she heard Cleveland answer, “I’m fine Dee. I’m feeling great.” But she didn’t see how his entire white face turned a brilliant shade of pink. And she didn’t see the huge grin on his face.
When Cleveland came to dinner that night, he couldn’t stop smiling. After a few minutes, his mother finally asked. “What are you so happy about tonight, son?”
Cleveland flushed, and said he was making real progress with the oboe.
Desmond spoke up. “He’s got a girlfriend! That’s what he’s so happy about, he’s got a girlfriend! I saw him putting a pink present in his bag this morning!”
Mrs. Wolf turned from Desmond to look at Cleveland again with her eyebrows raised, and a smile on her own face. “Is that true, Cleveland?”
Cleveland’s face went from pink to red. “She’s not my girlfriend. But I wish she was. She’s really pretty. I gave her a present today.”
This was an interesting enough development his father even joined the conversation. “What’s her name?”
“Sandy.”
“What did you give her?”
“Just a book I thought she would like. She likes poetry. She has the soul of an artist.” Cleveland liked what Dee had said when he introduced them the first day. It was always near the front of his mind when he was thinking about Sandy, (which was most of the day lately).
“Could we meet her?” Cleveland’s mother recognized how awkward her son was in the social world, and was overprotective as a result. “Why don’t you invite her to have dinner with us?”
And since Cleveland had never had a girlfriend, and never been on a date, or even discussed such things with anyone, he didn’t recognize how uncomfortable such an invitation would be for a girl he barely knew. It seemed like a great idea. He thought both his family and Sandy were awesome, so it was a great idea!
When Sandy got home, she headed straight to the miniscule bedroom in the trailer she and her mom lived in. She shut the door and went straight to her book bag and pulled out the pretty pink and silver wrapped present, with its now hopelessly squashed bow. She could tell it was a book. In her entire life, Sandy had never received a present except on Christmas or her birthday, and had never received a present from anyone other than her mom or grandfather either. She carefully opened the wrapping, not wanting to tear the lovely paper.
It was a slim paperback book of poetry called “Eureka Mill,” by Ron Rash. The cover was a rather dismal black and white photo of a huge crowd of people posing in front of an old brick building. It was clearly a very old photo.
She opened the front cover, and Cleveland had written inside in an exceptionally precise handwriting, “For Sandy: The prettiest girl I ever saw. From Cleveland E. Wolf.”
Sandy was stunned. “The prettiest girl I ever saw.” How could he write that about “the dirty girl” who often had to wear clothes more than once between washings, and sometimes skipped bathing for days in a row during the winter if the electricity had been cut off and there was no hot water. Was he mocking her? He didn’t seem like he was, but she couldn’t quite conceive that “The prettiest girl I ever saw” was written with any sincerity either. Nobody had ever called her pretty except her Grandfather, and even he hadn’t said so in years.
She opened the little book and began to read.
Cleveland made sure he was the first person in the classroom the next day, and waited with anxious excitement for Sandy to show up.
When she arrived, she looked at him with an expression that he had trouble reading. But he could tell it wasn’t one of returning his heartfelt admiration.
“Thank you for the book,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” He waited for her to say more, but she sat down and got out a book as she always did, (it wasn’t the book he gave her).
Cleveland wasn’t sure what to do. After a long pause he finally asked, “Did you read any of it?”
She turned and looked at him. “Yes. I read all of it. Have YOU read any of it?”
Her tone clearly meant that she wasn’t enthralled with his gift. He very timidly replied, “Yes. It’s my favorite book of poetry. I know you like poetry, so I wanted to share it with you.”
Her voice softened, but she still didn’t smile. “Well, thank you.” She turned back to her book.
Cleveland watched her for a minute, and decided he had to go for it. He’d gotten this far, so he had to keep trying. “Sandy, I would like to invite you to have dinner with my family. Would you like to come over Wednesday night?”
Sandy turned around and looked at him with an incredulous expression on her face. “Have dinner with your family?”
“Yes, my mother thought…”
Sandy cut him off. “I’ve got a better idea Cleveland. Why don’t YOU come have dinner with MY family Wednesday night?”
Cleveland was very confused. Her tone didn’t even sound friendly, much less sweet and caring… but she WAS inviting him to her house for dinner. As his dad would say, in for a penny, in for a pound.
“Thank you,” he said. “I would love to.”
“Mom, please don’t be mad,” Sandy said to her mother that afternoon.
Her mother looked at her with a “what now” look. “That doesn’t sound good. What did you do?”
“I invited a boy at school to have dinner with us Wednesday night.”
“Here?” Her mother almost shouted. “Why the hell would you invite a boy to this dump? And I struggle enough to feed the two of us, you think I’ve got money to feed some extra mouth?”
“I’m sorry Mom,” Sandy pleaded, “I think he might like me. Really. But he’s new in this school and if he’s going to like me I want him to know exactly who he’s with. I don’t want you to do anything special. Just have the same kind of meal we always have on your nights off. Just make a little extra.”
Sandy’s mom just looked at her for a minute. “You want to show off how poor we are? How much I struggle?”
“No, Mom… I just…” Sandy hadn’t really sorted out her own thoughts. She didn’t even know exactly why she’d invited him. She just knew she was stunned when he immediately accepted. “Please?”
Her mom sighed. “Fine. Whatever. But I ain’t doing anything special for some boy. And I ain’t leaving you alone with him neither! You know those boys only want one thing.”
“Here we go again,” thought Sandy. As her mother started in on the usual all-boys-want-is-sex lecture, Sandy tuned her out. She wasn’t quite sure what Cleveland wanted, but she didn’t think he was just out to get in her pants.
She just didn’t know what to think. Cleveland was a really odd guy. Nerdy, a little chubby, and so pale. Had he ever been in the sun in his life? Clearly he was not poor himself. The note in the book had seemed sincere, and he had seemed very sincere when he gave it to her.
But an entire book about people living in poverty? It was good poetry. He was right about that. But why would a boy give a girl a book about poverty to show he liked her – especially when the girl lived in poverty herself? When he’d invited her to dinner, it felt like he wanted to rub in how well of he was compared to her, and without thinking, she had shot out a counter-invitation. But he accepted it. Immediately.
She got out “Eureka Mill” to read it again. But she never got past “The prettiest girl I ever saw.” She just kept reading that line again and again.
When Wednesday arrived, Cleveland was unbelievably excited. He tried to calm himself in the morning by playing his alto flute, and then his oboe, but it was no use. He was too eager and anxious to concentrate.
Getting through school was murder. He only saw Sandy during the brief homeroom period. He’d told her he was looking forward to meeting her family. Although she didn’t react with the same excited joy he was feeling, she definitely didn’t seem as harsh as she had the day she invited him. He guessed that was progress.
After school, he went home, tried to play again, and again kept flubbing up pieces of music he knew backwards and forwards. He quit. He showered twice. He put on a fresh yellow Polo shirt (because it was Wednesday) and buttoned it up to the collar. He risked skipping the sunscreen. It would be late in the day, and he wouldn’t be outside long. He didn’t want to smell like sunscreen on the first date in his life.
And at 5:30, he got in the car for his mother to drive him to Sandy’s house. For the first time ever, Cleveland was wishing he had taken driver’s ed and gotten his license. It hadn’t seemed worth the trouble at the time.
Mrs. Wolf got out her phone and entered the address Cleveland gave her for Sandy’s house. It was a little way out of town. She was proud of her son, after all these years, finally going on a date with a young lady.
They didn’t talk much as they drove. But as they got close to Sandy’s house, Cleveland’s mother said, “Are you sure this is the right address?”
“Yes. Sandy said it was in the country. She said you turn left after the shut-down BP station, and her house is a half mile down the road on the right.”
Momentarily, they reached the BP Station, which had three cars with no tires sitting in front of it, and turned left. Almost exactly a half mile after the turn, Mrs. Wolf’s phone said, “You have arrived at your destination,” and she sat in the road looking at one of the most run-down mobile home’s she’d ever seen.
It looked like it was probably built in the 70s at some point. Maybe the 60s. It was very small, very dirty, and the aluminum siding was dented and peeling in a number of places. There were tires on the roof. It had no porch, just some cinder-block steps to the front door. The yard, if you could call it that, was just dirt and weeds. The kindest thing Cleveland’s mother could even think about this place was that there was no trash in front of it.
Cleveland was surprised too. He had no idea that Sandy was this poor. Once he saw her face, and that little bit of a smile she let slip through, he’d been unable to see anything else. And, since he had no friends at school, and tended to be alone, he never heard any gossip about anyone. But he didn’t care if she was poor or not. “Mom?”
“Son, this can’t be the right place.”
“This is the address she gave me. Pull in and let me go to the door.”
“It’s not safe, Cleveland.”
“It’s fine Mother. I’m just going to have dinner and meet her family.”
“Who all is in her family?”
Cleveland suddenly realized he had no idea who was in her family. He’d never even had a real conversation with Sandy. He ignored his mother’s question. “Just pull in and let me go to the door.”
Reluctantly, Mrs. Wolf pulled in to the yard.
Cleveland got out, went to the door, and knocked.
Immediately, the door opened. Cleveland’s face lit up when Sandy opened the door. She smiled too this time, which made her already pretty face transform into one that he found indescribably stunning.
“Come in, Cleveland,” she said.
Sandy had never been so nervous and worried, but simultaneously so excited and happy. There was a boy who seemed to actually like her coming to her house for dinner.
But why had she invited him to HER house? With HER mother? She didn’t know how her mother would act, and she was certain that their meager, cheap meal would not be what Cleveland was accustomed to eating.
She was peeking out the window when the car arrived – first just sitting in the road for a moment, but then pulling into the yard. When there was a knock on the door, Sandy was already standing there ready to open it.
And there was Cleveland, grinning ear to ear, wearing his signature polo shirt buttoned up to the neck, and holding a small bouquet of flowers.
“Come in, Cleveland,” she said.
“Hi, Sandy. I picked these for you. They’re from my mother’s garden.”
“They’re beautiful. Come on in.” She shut the door and took the flowers from Cleveland.
“Let me get something to put them in.” She got a mason jar out from under the kitchen sink and put the flowers in water, then set it on the scarred Formica table in the kitchen.
“Let me go tell my Mom know you’re here. I’ll be right back.”
Sandy went back to her mother’s room, where she was laying in the bed watching TV. “Mom, Cleveland’s here.”
Her mother sighed with minor irritation. “Okay, I’m coming.”
“Mom, please be nice to him.”
“Well of course I’ll be nice to him. What do think I’m going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
Together they returned to the living room. Cleveland immediately stood up when they came in the room.
“This is my Mom.”
Cleveland held out his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you Mrs. Stinson.”
“Just call me Janice. Nice to meet you too.”
And then Janice did exactly the sort of thing that Sandy feared she would do.
“So what do your parents do for a living?” Sandy was horrified. How could she ask something so rude, and ask it straight out as the first thing she said?
Cleveland didn’t seem bothered. “My father is an insurance underwriter with Roiden Insurance and my mother is a paralegal, but she hasn’t found a job with a firm in Hillson yet,” he replied.
“That sounds great. I’m sure they do better than I do.”
Now it was Cleveland’s turn to horrify Sandy. “What do you do?”
“I serve drinks at The Golden Garter Club. Are you familiar with it, Cleveland?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, “It’s a titty bar.”
“MOM!”
“What? I’m just answering his question.”
Cleveland said, “It’s fine. I’m not familiar with it, but I’m sure it’s a nice place.”
Janice rolled her eyes ever so slightly. “Well, let me get supper together.”
Originally, Sandy had no intention of showing Cleveland her bedroom. Cleveland probably had a closet larger than her bedroom. But she wanted to get him away from her mother immediately, so she asked if he’d like to see her room.
“Yes, thank you,” Cleveland said.
“Keep your door open!” Janice shouted.
Sandy ignored her, and red-faced, showed Cleveland around the corner to her tiny room.
As he stepped in, she tried to see the room through his eyes, and she felt humiliated.
Cleveland stood in the door to Sandy’s room and looked around. He felt like she had invited him into her heart. The room was so personal, and showed signs of her having grown up here from childhood. The walls had stickers on them in many places, and some places where stickers had been peeled off, leaving a paper shape where they had been. There were no posters, but there were lots of pictures from magazines taped to the walls. A few were celebrity men, but more were pictures that must have come from travel magazines, or National Geographic… places that were beautiful and distant. There were some drawings, which Cleveland guessed Sandy had done herself. Her twin bedspread was from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, and was exceptionally worn. There was no headboard or footboard – just a mattress on a frame. A few stuffed animals were on the bed. A faded lavender turtle was significantly more worn than the others. He guessed that this was her special animal from early childhood.
“I like your room,” Cleveland said with absolute sincerity.
When Cleveland looked at Sandy, he saw a remarkably pretty girl, who read poetry, was quiet and nice, shy, and on the rare occasion that she smiled, had the most beautiful smile he thought he’d ever seen. He wanted nothing in the world more than to know her better. Maybe she would even be his girlfriend. He could think of nothing more wonderful, and how much money her family had was absolutely irrelevant to that.
“How can you like this room? It’s just a beat up, closet sized room.”
“It looks to me like a room that has been yours for a long time. It has signs of you all over it. It reflects you, and you make it beautiful.”
Sandy just stood staring at him for a moment, as he continued looking around the room. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
Cleveland looked back at her. “Yes. I do.”
They were still looking at each other when Sandy’s mom called out, “Come ‘n’ get it! Supper’s ready.”
They broke their gaze and walked back to the kitchen, where they sat around the small table. Dinner was fried bologna, green beans out of a can, a slice of bread, and Kraft macaroni and cheese. They had ice water to drink.
As soon as Cleveland left and they had shut the door, Janice started. “You have no business seeing that boy.”
“What? Why?” Sandy asked.
“Why? Well, he’s weird, he’s a nerd, he’s ugly, he’s rich, and if he’s interested in you it’s only for one reason. He think’s you’ll be an easy piece of ass.”
Sandy rarely got truly angry with her mother, but she was now. “Cleveland has been kind to me in ways that nobody – including YOU – have ever been before! He’s behaved like a complete gentleman…”
“What do you know about gentleman? We are poor white trash Sandy. That’s our lot in life. I have a job serving cheap beer at a cheap strip club, and I’m lucky to have that, but it barely pays the bills on this dump. You’re a smart girl. You might be able to a little better than me, but it won’t be much better. We can’t afford for you to go to any school once high school is over. You’ll have to find a job doing whatever the hell someone will pay you to do. As long as you’re living under my roof, I’m not having you get pregnant with that geek’s baby!”
Sandy had never been so mad or so hurt before. Her face was as red as it could be as she stood, and walked out the front door without another word, slamming it behind her. She heard her mother shout, “Go ahead. Go pout.”
But Sandy wasn’t pouting. She was on the road in a minute and walking towards town. She didn’t know where she was going, but she had no intention of going back in that trailer with her mother tonight.
After walking for 45 minutes, she was getting into town. She had to decide where she was going to go and what she was going to do. The only place she really knew was the high school, so she headed that direction.
When she got there, she went around to a covered porch on the back side of the building, and sat down on the steps. For tonight, this would do. Just for tonight, she would sleep right here.
As Mrs. Wolf drove Cleveland back home, she asked him about the visit. Cleveland, who was over the moon, tried to describe his brief time at Sandy’s house. He told her about meeting Sandy’s mother, eating dinner, and then playing a few games of Go Fish and Crazy 8s in the living room while her mother cleaned up the meal.
“Where was her father?” asked his mom.
“He wasn’t there. Nobody mentioned him.”
“Deadbeat dad probably. Could be in prison.”
“Mom, you don’t know anything like that!”
“And you know what, Cleveland? Neither do you! How can I sit here and watch my baby falling head over heels for this trashy girl?”
Cleveland raised his voice to his mother, for perhaps the first time ever, “Sandy is NOT trashy!”
“She lives in a garbage dump! She invites you over for dinner and serves macaroni and bologna! Her mother’s a bartender! And not at a fine restaurant I’m willing to bet. Where does she tend bar? Did she tell you that?”
“At some club.” Cleveland wasn’t about to tell his mother where she tended bar. “It sounded like a nice place.”
“It sounded like a nice place, but you can’t remember the name of it. Hmmph.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes.
“Cleveland, I’m not going to take you to that girl’s trailer again. You don’t need to be seeing someone like that.”
He struggled not to let her see or hear the tears welling up. “Sandy is a nice girl. She may be poor, but she’s a nice person. You haven’t even met her!”
“And I’m not going to, son. Part of my job as your mother is to protect you from making foolish mistakes. I’m not going to have you dating some poverty stricken girl. You are much too good for that. Too smart and too talented.”
They pulled into their driveway.
“Go to your room and look over your schoolwork, or practice your music, Cleveland. I’m not going to discuss this anymore tonight, and you have school tomorrow.”
Tears ran down Cleveland’s face as he trudged up the stairs.
He hadn’t been in his room long, when he decided that he wasn’t going to stay in this house tonight. If his mother couldn’t let him see Sandy, then he was leaving. He picked up his alto flute case, and crept back down the stairs.
He heard his mother telling his dad her opinion of the night. It was easy for him to walk out the front door without them noticing he was gone.
He didn’t have to think about where he was going to go. He would have to be at school the next morning so he could see Sandy. He would go to the school.
The walk wasn’t long. When he got to the school, he went around to side of the building and sat down on the steps. Only then did he allow himself to really cry. He crossed his arms over his knees, and put his head on his arms, and fell into full, gut heaving sobs. The unfairness of it all was incredible. Here he was, a senior in high school before he found the first girl he really liked, and at the very moment it started to look up, his mother cut him down. His own mother! He wept until the tears ran out.
He sat for a long time watching as the sun sank low in the sky. He turned and opened his flute case. Playing the flute could usually give him peace at the most stressful times. He put the instrument together, and began to play.
Sandy sat on the back steps of the school for a long while. Eventually, the sun began to set. She looked sadly towards the beautiful pink and orange sky. What would she do? What could she do? She knew she would have to go back home. But not tonight. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her mother again tonight after what she had said.
As she looked off towards the sunset, she heard an unfamiliar sound. It was a low, soft music, and heartbreakingly beautiful.
Sandy got up and started walking towards the side of the school where the music was coming from. When she reached the corner, she knew for sure someone was sitting on the steps just around from her playing an instrument. It sounded like a flute, but deeper and mellower.
She stood there listening silently for several minutes, and finally stepped around the corner to see who was playing the music.
And there he was. Cleveland sat on the steps, facing the lowering sun, and playing a large, strangely bent flute. He didn’t even know she was standing there. She stood still and silent, letting his music wrap her in its gentle sad sound. For nearly five minutes, she barely dared to breathe. And then the piece was over, and Cleveland lowered the flute.
Sandy stepped over to him.
“Hi Cleveland,” she said.
He spun around, a look of disbelieving shock on his face.
“Sandy?”
He had clearly been crying. Had dinner with her and her mom been that bad?
“What are you doing here?” he asked her.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“My mother told me she didn’t want me to see you anymore. I was so mad at her I snuck out of the house. I came here because I knew I could see you at school tomorrow.”
“My mom told me she didn’t want me to see you either. She thinks you’re only interested in me for sex.”
If Sandy had any doubt in her mind, the look of shock on Cleveland’s face made clear that her mom was completely wrong in her estimation.
“NO! It’s not that at all!”
“I know, Cleveland.”
She reached out and touched his arm, then gently took the flute from his hands. “What is this?”
“It’s an alto flute. Not many people play them.”
“I’ve never seen one before. Or heard one. You play beautifully.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you play something for me?”
“Yes I will.”
Sandy sat down on the steps.
Cleveland lifted flute to his mouth and played Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. He had transposed the piece for alto flute himself. As the sky darkened from the deep reds of sunset to the crystalline black/blue of night, the soft soulful flute carried in the darkness, filling the hollow of the night. As he played, he kept his eyes closed, knowing that looking at Sandy would distract him too much to be able to play well, and he definitely wanted to play well for her.
When the last long low note had drifted into the dusk and disappeared, he sat down on the steps next to Sandy.
He didn’t know what to do. Would his parents check his room and see that he was gone, or would they just assume he had gone to bed? What about Sandy’s mom? Did she know Sandy was gone? Would anyone be looking for them? How could he keep seeing her, when his mother had forbidden him to? How would Sandy keep seeing him when her mother didn’t approve either?
Sandy took the flute from his hands and laid it on the open case beside them. Then she took one of his hands in both of her own.
“Lets sit back against the wall,” she said.
They went into the corner of the porch, and Cleveland sunk down into the brick and cement wall of the small side porch of the school. Sandy sat down beside him and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“What are we going to do Cleveland?”
“I don’t know, Sandy,” he softly replied. “I really don’t know.”
They sat together for a long time. They held hands, and simply took comfort in each other’s presence, neither knowing what to say, or what to do. Both knowing, whatever tomorrow held, they would be together tonight.
After a very long comforting time had passed, Sandy said, “I guess we’ll just see what happens.”
“I guess so.” Cleveland replied.
And shortly after, Sandy leaned into his body a little more, and drifted off to sleep.
Cleveland sat in the dark, on the hard concrete porch, with the girl of his dreams asleep on his shoulder. His quick-beating heart kept him awake for another hour, and eventually, he too faded into sleep.
The moon was almost full when it rose and shone its silvery light down on the two young people. But they didn’t see it. They were both asleep. In the morning, they would have to face whatever fallout there was for running away from their homes and spending the night together, however innocently. But tonight, they slept quietly in one another’s arms, awash in the light of the moon.
“The Poet and the Musician: An Almost Love Story” is the third in a series of stories based on characters suggested by my friends. I asked them to provide me a character’s name, one physical characteristic, one thing about their hobby or profession, and one character trait.
Stephanie Young suggested the character for Sandy, writing, “Sandy; high school student; poet; dirt poor.”
Keith Tew suggested the character for Cleveland, writing, “Cleveland; fair skinned; musician; eccentric.”
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