The Girl in the Den

She passed the school on the left, then the park on the right.  

Everything as it used to look, yet different. Driving back along the street now as an adult she was surprised she still felt the sting of betrayal so deeply.  

She saw the gate to his back garden now in front.   

Katie tried to suppress the feeling but the memory came back, stronger and more vividly with every familiar land mark.  

She pulled up at the curb, the path beside the gate stretching away from her. She could deny the memories no more.

That day she had skipped up the path to the garage den, her white and pink skirt jumping around her legs as she bounded.    “He could come with her, it didn’t all have to be over.  They could go together.”  This was all she cared about in the world.  Her precious Michael, her childhood playmate, her first kiss and now her lover.   They would travel the world together.   

Katie had cupped her hands at the den window, peering through the embracing darkness and down onto the double mattress on the floor where she and Michael had spent so many stolen moments, with a knowledge he would be lounging with his head in a book, his black-all-over costume blending into the shadows. 

She had seen his outline, with his back to the window, reading as always she thought.  In delight she drew back the door, the loosely fixed pane of glass rattling joyously as it grated across the flag stones.

Michael had started, rolling towards her, panic written bold across his young face.  The paleness of his boyish white skin bright against the darkness of the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt.   The girl had started too, her skirts pushed up to her waist and her tights at her knees.

They had stayed like that for what seemed like an age.  Him half-naked, his nipples hardening in response to the draught.  The girl lying there exposed. 

This was the first time she had been back since.  Her house looked the same but today it stood ready to greet guests.  She parked and climbed out, stroked down her skirts down and walked boldly in, red handbag swinging beside tight calves and stiletto heels.

She let him catch her in the privacy of the garden as she ate canapés.  The moment had hung in the air since she had walked through the door, the words unsaid, waiting to be heard.

“I thought it was over.”

“Oh it was!” She looked puzzled, more expecting an apology or explanation. 

“No.  On that day.  I thought it was over with us, when I asked her round.  My mother told me you didn’t want to see me ever again.  She said you had someone else.”

“Michael, You know there was never anyone other than you” Katie’s face started to pink, appalled at the thought.  “Where the hell did she get that from?” she spat angrily.

“I know that now.  She told me after that she’d made it up to help me forget about you.  I cried for two days after you and I argued.  She said she couldn’t bear it so said that to make me ‘get over you’.”

“How could she.  How could she do that.  She knew you meant everything to me.  How could she be so…. evil. Where the fuck is she?”  Her whole body shook, rigid as she looked angrily at those gathered on the lawn, some now staring. 

“She’s dead, Katie.”  He shouted back.  The onlookers turned embarrassedly back to their conversations.

She felt the anger drain from her and with it the past.  Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

“No!  Michael.”  She whispered her hands on his shoulders, longing to lock her fingers behind his neck once more.  She looked into his eyes, and at the lines on his face.  They seemed to carry so much sadness and pain. 

Wordlessly they lent in to embrace, their bodies colliding at first in the awkward way of teenagers and then gripping each other as adults.