Take A Walk With Me (One-Shots and More)

Playgrounds (Merome)

It was picture perfect, the stereotypical playground.

I sighed, relaxing and slumping back into my seat. I was waiting to pick up Conner at his elementary school. There were kids, probably released from a tired P.E. teacher, rampaging the playground, chasing each other around and climbing up backward on the slide, the normal thing for littler kids to do.

The cold winter air was seeping in through the car, and I had to wonder how these kids could get away with shorts and tee shirts. It was a mystery I'd love the answer too.

I couldn't help but keep watching, focusing on the little blonde-headed girl struggling to push her way up the looping slide. Images of my own memories, trying to climb the great indigo monster with my best friend cheering me on from the top, flashed in my mind. It was almost like I was back in time, having traveled nine or ten years.

My friend's face and name came to the surface.

Jerome.

Flinching, I snapped from my thoughts and pushed it back to the edges of my consciousness. No use crying over spilled milk again, right? He was gone, and that was all there was to it.

The kids on the playground had gone, filed up and herded back to their classrooms. The Jeep in front of me started to roll away, so I shifted my own car into drive and pulled forward. It wasn't long before this trend continued, the bell having rung and the little heathens rushing to their cars to blab on about their riveting day of grade school.

It was my turn. Pulling the car into park, I waited as Conner stood from the crowd and ran over to the Honda, flinging open the passenger door with his usual enthusiasm. "Mitch!"

"Hey, buddy," I reply, keeping the smile on my face as he sets his backpack down and slams the door shut.

One of these days, he's going to break something.

"School's great! Well, not really. I hate Ms. Banks. She always gives us so much homework! Three pages!"

I let a chuckle slip. "Wait until high school. Then you can complain about homework. Or you can do my Trig for me."

"Bleh! No!"

Pulling forward and out of the lot, I watch the road, only half-listening as he starts rambling about this friend of his who's apparently really cute. I pick up on something, though.

Conner only describes them as a "they." He never gives them gender.

"Conner, buddy? What's their name?"

I steal a glance at him. There's a blush creeping up his neck and swirling on his cheeks, and a sheepish smile engraved on his lips.

"C-Cody..."

"Call him Carly in front of Mom and Dad, okay?" I tell him, offering a smile. I know what it's like.

I've heard my parents whispering about how alike Jerome and "Jessica" are.

"And a girl?" Conner asks, his blush only growing darker.

"Yep. I don't think they can handle two gay sons yet."

I knew Conner's sexuality, even before he knew. He had never told me, but he never looked at a girl the way he looked at guys. Sure, he was young, but that doesn't mean anything. It's something you're born with.

"Two?" he asked, looking over at me.

"Yeah... Two... But that's our little secret, okay?"

"Okay."

I speed up, turning to the on-ramp. The car falls silent, so Conner picks up my phone, enters the passcode, and starts playing an Electric playlist I have downloaded. The phone's hooked up to AUX cord, so it starts playing fairly loudly through the car's speakers. He turns it up even louder, and I laugh, watching out of the corner of my eye as he starts looking through other playlists.

"What's this one? Indie rock?"

He starts to play a grudgingly familiar song. "Turn that off," I snap, right before the lyrics start up. Sticking his tongue out at me, he shows his distaste, and I yank the phone out of his hands, somehow managing to focus enough on the road that I don't swerve like I'm drunk. I turn Moondust off and flip it to a pop and rap list. He scowls at me, but I ignore it, refusing to give the phone back.

At least, I ignore him until he makes one comment I can't avoid.

"You're just upset that it's Jerome's birthday."

"Shut the fuck up, alright?" I snap, my grip on the steering wheel tightening until my knuckles whiten.

"And that song reminds you of him," Conner continues dangerously. "You just want to be with him, but we moved away and he found someone else. He doesn't talk to you anymore, but you don't try to talk to him, either."

Seeing a sign for a convenience store, I start to look for the exit. "I don't want to talk about him, or what happened," I respond, focusing harder than I was before.

"Maybe he misses you, Mitch. Maybe he's waiting for a text or a call or a message over the net. Maybe he doesn't know what to say to you, and that's why he hasn't yet. Maybe, Mitch... Maybe he likes you too. Like, like likes you."

I have to admit, I hadn't thought of that.

I'm pulling into the little store's parking lot when I finally find an answer. Originally, I just thought to stop because I didn't think I could drive, but now, it serves a better purpose.

Grabbing my wallet, I fish out a couple dollars and stick them in my jeans pocket. "You're a smart little kid... I didn't think about it like that. Let's go get you some soda, and maybe a little ice cream. Mom doesn't have to know, right?"

I grin at him, and his face lights up. "Okay! Yeah, she doesn't have to know."

Chuckling, I tell him to hang on for a just a second, then open my phone and send a quick text.

From: You
To: Jerome

Happy birthday, Biggums

The reply was instantaneous.

My phone lit up and rung, trying to signal an incoming call. I picked up and placed the phone to my ear before starting in towards the shop, Conner prancing after me.

"Hey, Jaye."

"Mitch! I haven't talked you in so long..."