Junction X by Erastes (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

to buy them locally. I ended up driving hunting uselessly in the local area and then driving twenty miles to a warehouse that a retailer suggested. “You should’ve come before now,” he said irritatingly.

It was getting dark when I got home; the bonfire would have to wait for the morning. As I drove down The Avenue, I saw Alex’s light on. I cut the engine and headlights and coasted until I was outside number seventy-eight. I played a game of anticipation with myself, forcing my will power to keep my eyes ahead until the car stopped, then slowly turning my head and not allowing my eyes to focus on anything else until I reached his window. The curtains were open but there was no sign of him. I rolled down the window; I could just catch the strains of some music I didn’t know. I wondered what he was doing, what he was thinking. Maybe—I hoped—he was thinking of me.

I yearned for him to stand up—I imagined that he must be lying on his bed—to lean on the window sill, to play Juliet so I could be the Romeo I never had been. Perhaps, I thought, he’s waiting for the purr of the car. All the romance I’d faked once upon a time with Valerie came clear to me as I sat there. That hadn’t been real; that had been playing at mummies and daddies. This—for all its wrongness—was the romance I’d yearned for.

Except that romance doesn’t work on cue in the real world. No figure appeared at the window. Nothing happened. A light went on in the downstairs hall and I realised he probably wasn’t even there, but on the phone to one of his friends, or sitting watching the television with his parents, or perhaps already in my own house, finishing the Guy.

I felt myself go hot with embarrassment. Who did I think I was? How old? Did I really think that a young man like that would be mooning his evenings away thinking about some middle-aged stuffed shirt? It was a nice fantasy, but it vanished under the grimy memory of Phil’s eagerness to know the sordid details of my bit on the side. That was something I was going to have to address.

I started the car and drove the short distance home. As I got out of the car to open the gates in the dark, I couldn’t stop my glance from flickering to his windows. My heart and stomach leapt in my chest for there was my wish fulfilled—Alex, hanging out of the window.

I stepped back into the shadow of the house, pushing my shoulders against the brick, so no neighbour would see me scraping off the last vestiges of wings. It meant Alex probably couldn’t see me either, but that didn’t matter. He knew I was there, falling in the shadows.

I could see little, but it was enough. His chest was bare; the glow from his bedroom back-lit him, obscuring his face but lighting the tips of his curls, the dark pink lobes of his ears. Something hurt inside me, something primal; my hands curled into fists and, for just a few seconds, I half-believed we were together, his hand on my cheek, my hand on the small of his back. I touched my lips and I could feel his against my face—he was kissing me like the lightest of dreams. I worried that he must be cold, then I wished I could see his nipples. Lust. Disgust. Longing. Fear. There was no limit to the feelings I had every moment and forever afterwards. Most feelings linger, even now—but the fear has gone, at least.

I heard a sound in the kitchen and my heart nearly stopped. Valerie couldn’t have seen me without the drive gates open, but it still shocked me back to reality. Alex, too, glanced around as a light came on, illuminating part of the driveway. He ducked inside with a frantic wave of his hand.

Idiocy, idiocy, I thought as I went through the motions of putting the car away. So the neighbours couldn’t have seen me, but it wouldn’t have been hard to see him. Even Valerie could have seen him, had she been in the right place. It wasn’t like her to wait up for me.

All seemed normal, though, apart from the thudding of my heart. Valerie followed me into the sitting room. “Have you eaten?”

I shook my head. I was suddenly tired, as if I’d been tense for days. I collapsed into my chair.

“I thought you’d have lunch at the club. Wasn’t Phil there?”

“He was, but…” I waved a hand. How could I explain I didn’t want to eat with him? “I was worried I’d miss the shops. I did, anyway.” I explained about the warehouse. “But what I got was worth it. These fireworks are bigger—; the owner said that they were for a Parish Council’s display that had to be cancelled.”

“No wonder you look so tired, darling. I’ll make you something.”

I moved to the settee and stared into nothing. I sat up hurriedly when she came back, loaded up with a tray. She made herself scarce until I finished eating. The television bored me and I couldn’t relax. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Alex, his hair shining in the bedroom lights. All evening I could feel her looking at me from time to time while she read and I stared numbly at whatever was on the television screen. I had a bath and went to bed. I was reading when Val came in. She sat down to take off her make-up and I jumped up to close the curtains.

“So, how is Phil?”

“A little annoyed with me, I think.” That much was probably true.

“Ah. You beat him? How is he?”

“A bit better.”

“Good. Claire asked me about him today.”

“Really?” I grasped the velvet in my fist and then paused, pretending to see something on the glass. Alex’s light was off. I wished I could wave into