J. Gonzalez - Back From The Dead

And Tim had surprised himself by kissing her back.

He’d never kissed a girl before and he was surprised to find that his body just seemed to know what to do. From the gentle embraces, to the movement of lips and mouth, teeth and tongue, to the way he responded to her touches, her kisses, everything just came to him. The stirring in his groin was a natural reaction to that very physical coming together of their bodies, and Tim felt a momentary burst of panic. He didn’t want Chelsea to have the wrong impression of him; he wasn’t like all those other guys that lived only to get into a girl’s pants and then dump them. He wanted this to be special!

At the same time, he wanted her so badly.

And he sensed that Chelsea knew this.

And she responded accordingly.

She’d pressed herself against him and he could feel her breasts against his shirt. That only made him more crazy, more responsive to her touch, her caresses, her kisses. He let himself go, gave up control to his body’s instincts and expressed his desire for her through his own touch.

He didn’t know how long they made out in her car but at some point she stopped and held him. Tim opened his eyes, noted that the windows of the car were steamed up and he smiled. Chelsea told him that she should go — her curfew was midnight and it was already eleven-thirty. She started the car, rolled down the windows, laughing at the fact that they were steamed up. Tim had laughed too and she backed the car out of the parking slot and drove the dozen houses down to his condo unit and pulled up in front of it. She told him she’d talk to him tomorrow morning. He told her that would be great. They kissed one more time, quick, but still passionate, and then he was out of the car and heading toward the front door, feeling a momentary sense of panicked embarrassment. God, I hope my folks didn’t peek out the window as she pulled up to the house .

But those fears were laid to rest when he entered the house and saw his mom reclining on the sofa, the TV on, her eyes half shut. She’d looked up at him wearily, asked how his evening was and he’d smiled and said fine. Then he’d gone upstairs.

Where he’d stayed and relived the moment in the privacy of his bedroom.

And didn’t fall asleep.

At some point Mom came upstairs to bed. Tim went downstairs quietly, turned on the TV, and sat down in the darkened living room. His excitement was fueling his wakefulness and he could not go to sleep. He channel-surfed for a while, then headed to the kitchen for a snack.

A light tap on the sliding glass door caught his attention.

Chelsea was on the back deck. When she saw Tim, she grinned.

Tim had quietly opened the back door and before he had a chance to ask what she was doing, Chelsea was in his arms.

Somehow they kept quiet. And when it was over and they were re-arranging their clothes, Chelsea gave him a quick kiss, told him she just couldn’t help it, she had to come back. Tim had grinned back, told her he hadn’t been able to keep her out of his mind since she’d dropped him off, and then she was leaving out the back door. He watched her shadowy figure dance across the yard and between the utility shed his father had built and the fence that bordered their property with the neighboring house, then down the common area to where he knew the guest parking for the development was located. A moment later he heard a car engine start. Only then did Tim close the back door.

And now it was the following morning and Tim had relived his evening with Chelsea too many times to count. Everything about the date was perfect; the physical expression of their feelings toward each other last night had been the icing on the cake. Preceding that had been their conversation at the theater and in the car, where they’d talked about everything. School, their families, friends. Tim had brought her up on the latest in the investigation. How the police still hadn’t pressed formal criminal charges against him, or George and Al, but on the advice of their attorney they were on a sort of house arrest. Chelsea had raised an eyebrow at that and asked if he was on house arrest, why did his parents let him go to the movies with her? Tim could only shrug and grin. “I guess as long as they know we’re going to the movies, they’re cool with it.”

In reality, the house arrest wasn’t mandatory, but was suggested until their attorney could get the police to drop the investigation or file charges. Should something else happen in the interim, it was important they had firm alibis, and if they could verify they were at home, so much the better. It made sense.

It also kept them safe.

Thanks to the local weekly newspaper, the Spring Valley Gazette , they had every reason now to stay close to home due to a story published in last week’s edition. According to the story, which stated in a bold eighteen point headline: local teenagers involved in occult activity accused of grave-robbery, other satanic activity, Tim and his friends were all but tarred and feathered. The article straddled a thin line between sensational journalism and reporting the basic facts. It started off by relating the incident at Reamstown Cemetery, including the police questioning of Tim Gaines due to the evidence found (an occult paperback, according to the paper — nitwits couldn’t differentiate between fiction and non-fiction), and then proceeded to lay out a thinly-veiled indictment of him. It wasn’t enough to support a libel suit, which was the first thing his mother thought of when she read the piece. Their attorney, Doug Fenner, after a careful reading, broke that news gently, and it was he who suggested the house arrest. “The only way we can nail them is when we get the police to drop the investigation completely and hopefully arrest another suspect in the cemetery desecration. If they can do that we might have a case. But for now…we don’t.”

The background material in the article was simple enough in its noting the facts of the past six years from the school records at Spring Valley Middle School and High School; from the accusations that Tim had drawn occult symbols on students lockers and books, to the more outlandish ones where some of the more boneheaded kids swore he’d cast spells on them. There were a few comments on record that the reporter managed to get for the piece, including one from that bitch Heather Watkins, in which she dug up that old chestnut from ninth grade — that Tim had sacrificed her cat and not only told her about it, but informed her that he’d hexed her. It didn’t matter that the police had later dismissed the allegations, and it didn’t matter that this wasn’t reported in the article. As Mom had said the night the article came out, “Who the fuck wrote this? Some idiot that flunked journalism school?”

Dad had written a very long letter to the paper taking them to task for their shoddy reporting. He also set blame on the paper for placing the Gaines family in danger; since the article’s publication they’d received a dozen death threats by phone and had several dozen drive-bys where people yelled obscenities. While the majority of the citizens of Spring Valley were level-headed people, it seemed that a tiny minority of them not only believed everything they read and were told about Tim, they felt the need to put him and his parents in danger when there was no solid proof he’d committed any crime. Furthermore, he wrote, Tim had never been convicted of a crime despite being made the social pariah of town. He concluded by addressing the Spring Valley Police department directly: either file criminal charges against my son or cease your investigation and make a public apology.

That had been three days ago, on a Sunday. Dad’s letter had not been published yet (he wondered if the editors of the paper would publish it in its entirety, if at all), and as Tim thought about it, not even paying attention to the news on TV, he added a few more things he’d noticed in the days since the article’s publication. How the police and Spring Valley High’s principal weren’t returning their calls. How Dad casually mentioned the other night how a once friendly colleague at work was now silent around him, refusing to speak to him (the guy in question lived in Spring Valley). For her part, Mom was looking into moving out of the area. Tim had overheard his parents talking about this Sunday night and his heart sank as he detected the seriousness in their voices. As much as he realized it was the rational thing to do, to wipe the slate clean and start fresh, he felt a tinge of sadness that he would be forced to leave his friends. He also felt a heartsickness at the thought of leaving Chelsea. In the days before their date they’d talked constantly on the phone, and Tim could feel that the attraction was not only mutual, but was preparing to build to a new level. He didn’t want to destroy any hope he had with her.