Categories > Original > Drama > Separation
April 15, 1979
“Hello?”
“Hi Misty.” It was Ray. “Did you…er…wanna do something this weekend? Friday maybe?”
If he was nervous, there was no other evidence besides the small hitch in mid-sentence. Dear God, was he actually asking her out? Misty hardly dared to finish the thought.
“Sure, what did you have in mind?”
“Eh nothing big, maybe some pizza and a video? I’ll spring for the pepperoni if you bring the movie.”
“Sure sounds great. Is seven too late?”
“It’s perfect. I’ll see you then.”
“See you.” Her mad squee of joy could be heard two blocks over.
The first "date" was somewhat uneventful by anyone’s standards. Ray met her at the door, propped up with a pair of crutches, and offered her a seat before ambling over himself. There was always at least twelve inches of couch between the two of them, the pizza was good, and the movie amusing. Neither remembered overmuch of the plot, but that was all right. Misty left before eleven and after a gentlemanly handshake. Alex counted the evening a success, if a Puritanical one.
There were others that followed in succession, more movies and more takeout; the number of inches of couch cushion slowly diminishing with each. Having gotten to the last inch and halfway through a period movie that involved a lot of laughable attempts at historical costumes, Misty dared to lay a hand on his shoulder. Ray looked over and smiled, only a hint of shyness around the edges. Lifting a hand, he placed it over hers, taking it in his own, and lowering their interlaced fingers to the cushion between them.
She was smiling like an idiot and didn’t care; Ray didn’t either if the foolish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth was any indication. Who would have thought a simple touch of hands could ratchet her heart into overdrive, her blood surging through her veins so loudly that it was drowning out the musket fire and shrieks of Shawnee Indians onscreen. Excitement or nerves or perhaps a mix of both had him gripping her hand so tightly that his nails and knuckles were fading to white. A small, dismissible misgiving began tickling at the back of her mind, threatening to spoil the moment.
She lifted their joined hands, taking his in both of hers. The misgiving became louder. Ray’s smile had faded, his attention turned elsewhere, and his breath coming in short gasps.
“…Ray?”
Blood draining from his face and small beads of perspiration forming on his brow, he didn’t respond, only gasped for air.
“Ray!” Now she was honestly scared. Gripping his hand tightly, she cast desperately for something to do; usually Alex dealt with this and she’d only ever been witness to a handful of his once legendary fits. “Ray, what’s wrong?!”
He was clutching his heart with his free hand, his gasps turned to coughing.
“Ray!” She dropped his hands and grabbed his shoulders, patting his back as sharply as she dared.
Ray gagged as if surfacing from deep water, choking a bit before his breathing settled. Unsure what else to do, Misty rubbed his back lightly until he’d calmed down enough to answer.
“Are you okay?” she asked, gently placing a hand against his cheek and turning his face towards her. He opened his mouth to speak but got no farther. The sudden dead weight jolted her nerves and instincts into action, and she caught him before he could slide off the couch entirely.
"Oh God..."
“Hello?”
“Hi Misty.” It was Ray. “Did you…er…wanna do something this weekend? Friday maybe?”
If he was nervous, there was no other evidence besides the small hitch in mid-sentence. Dear God, was he actually asking her out? Misty hardly dared to finish the thought.
“Sure, what did you have in mind?”
“Eh nothing big, maybe some pizza and a video? I’ll spring for the pepperoni if you bring the movie.”
“Sure sounds great. Is seven too late?”
“It’s perfect. I’ll see you then.”
“See you.” Her mad squee of joy could be heard two blocks over.
The first "date" was somewhat uneventful by anyone’s standards. Ray met her at the door, propped up with a pair of crutches, and offered her a seat before ambling over himself. There was always at least twelve inches of couch between the two of them, the pizza was good, and the movie amusing. Neither remembered overmuch of the plot, but that was all right. Misty left before eleven and after a gentlemanly handshake. Alex counted the evening a success, if a Puritanical one.
There were others that followed in succession, more movies and more takeout; the number of inches of couch cushion slowly diminishing with each. Having gotten to the last inch and halfway through a period movie that involved a lot of laughable attempts at historical costumes, Misty dared to lay a hand on his shoulder. Ray looked over and smiled, only a hint of shyness around the edges. Lifting a hand, he placed it over hers, taking it in his own, and lowering their interlaced fingers to the cushion between them.
She was smiling like an idiot and didn’t care; Ray didn’t either if the foolish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth was any indication. Who would have thought a simple touch of hands could ratchet her heart into overdrive, her blood surging through her veins so loudly that it was drowning out the musket fire and shrieks of Shawnee Indians onscreen. Excitement or nerves or perhaps a mix of both had him gripping her hand so tightly that his nails and knuckles were fading to white. A small, dismissible misgiving began tickling at the back of her mind, threatening to spoil the moment.
She lifted their joined hands, taking his in both of hers. The misgiving became louder. Ray’s smile had faded, his attention turned elsewhere, and his breath coming in short gasps.
“…Ray?”
Blood draining from his face and small beads of perspiration forming on his brow, he didn’t respond, only gasped for air.
“Ray!” Now she was honestly scared. Gripping his hand tightly, she cast desperately for something to do; usually Alex dealt with this and she’d only ever been witness to a handful of his once legendary fits. “Ray, what’s wrong?!”
He was clutching his heart with his free hand, his gasps turned to coughing.
“Ray!” She dropped his hands and grabbed his shoulders, patting his back as sharply as she dared.
Ray gagged as if surfacing from deep water, choking a bit before his breathing settled. Unsure what else to do, Misty rubbed his back lightly until he’d calmed down enough to answer.
“Are you okay?” she asked, gently placing a hand against his cheek and turning his face towards her. He opened his mouth to speak but got no farther. The sudden dead weight jolted her nerves and instincts into action, and she caught him before he could slide off the couch entirely.
"Oh God..."
Sign up to rate and review this story