DANCING WITH MYSELF • EDDIE MUNSON

post prom - part two

Eddie had to fiddle with the lock a few times before the front door would open.

While he jiggled his keys and cursed under his breath, you stood on the step below with your stomach all knotted up like macramé, watching the tiny moths flutter beneath the gleam of the porchlight. This wasn't your first time standing here. You had been here before, almost six years ago, when you came and started banging on Eddie's door at ten o'clock in the morning, yelling for him to get his stubborn ass outside. The memory made you giggle. You had been so nervous back then. Shit, you were nervous now... just a different kind, you supposed.

A soft creak drew your attention back to the front door. Eddie pulled it open with a triumphant smile and held it for you.

"Well," he said, "this is it..."

And right before you went inside, you saw Eddie suck in a shallow breath. He was nervous, nervous about letting you see inside his house—his private, most intimate place—completely unprepared. You felt honored and grateful to know he trusted you that much.

Smiling, you brushed past him and walked through the front door. As soon as you did, you were overcome with this overwhelming and indescribable warmth that spread through your whole body. It felt less like you were entering Eddie's house and more like you were entering his world. After years of standing outside it, only ever getting as close as the front porch, you had finally been allowed inside. It was hard not to get a little emotional about it.

"Sorry about the mess," Eddie said, but honestly, you didn't even notice it. Your feet moved on their own and carried you deeper inside, into the living room. There, you found a dark brown sofa chair sitting in the far right corner and a light brown loveseat resting against a draped window. A bit worn, both of them, but still in good shape. Pushed against the opposite wall was a small television, a writing desk with a built-in shelf, and a roll-out folding bed, where you imagined Eddie's uncle resting after a long night's work. It was a charming room, well-lit and cozy, full of all these random little knickknacks that you could have spent hours browsing through. There were hats hanging on the walls, dozens of them, and long wooden shelves lined with nothing but souvenir mugs, more than you could even begin to count.

"You know, your uncle could open a gift shop with all this stuff."

Eddie was watching you from the front door, a faint smile on his face. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, he's quite the collector."

You nodded absentmindedly and proceeded into the kitchen, humming as you ran your hand along a small dining table set for two, with mismatched chairs.

Eddie gave you a bemused look and said, "What are you doing?"

"Just looking around," you answered with a shrug. "Why? Do you not want me to?"

"Uhh, no," Eddie said, a little taken aback. "Go crazy."

So with his permission, you did. You fingered through some of the clutter on the counter, cracked open a few cabinets and drawers, snuck a little peek into the fridge—just a quick one to sate your curiosity, perfectly harmless. And as you did this, you imagined Eddie growing up here: making breakfast for himself before school, doing his homework at the counter, eating dinner with his uncle at the dining table. Did he use the upholstered chair or the simpler metal one leaning against the pantry? You couldn't quite decide.

Then you moseyed down the hallway, looking at this and that. You pushed open the door, switched on the light to see into the bathroom... and stopped dead in your tracks when you reached the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Your stomach flipped twice, end over end. Yeah, you didn't dare step foot in Eddie's room. Instead, you spun around and went scurrying back the way you came, feeling much less adventurous than before.