by Keith Wallan
Phil Shoemaker had his hand on Traci Eichman's thigh. Or at least that's where Phil would have said it was. It was actually on her knee, more or less. But it had moved. Slightly. It had moved toward Traci Eichman's thigh.
The back window was starting to go opaque from condensation, erasing the view of the cloudy evening and the dark form of the water tower, a structure that had been visited at least as early as the "CLASs Of Ô7o RULeS."
Had they gotten out of Phil's dad's Fairlane and walked to the edge of the dirt road they would have seen a grid of suburban streetlights and the distant glow of the city. But they weren't getting out of the car; so it was the piece of October night floating just over their neighborhood that they would have seen, had they looked before the view faded to white.
A damp blush of irritated red circled both their mouths. "Mmmm," said one of them, occasionally, as their faces slid against one another. Phil's hand would sometimes leave Traci's knee/thigh to make a daring end run up the side of her hip, then straight up under her arm and back. each time the hand came back, it rested farther away from Traci's knee.
Both of the side windows were fogged by the time Phil's hand nestled where the inseam of Traci's jeans started to fit tight. Traci rested her hand on Phil's - pinning it.
"I think we should talk," she said.
"Great game, wasn't it? we oughtta make the semi-finals this year, at the least."
Traci's eyes went impersonal. She sat up straight, moving Phil's hand closer to her knee. "We need to talk about feelings."
"You feel okay to me, ha ha ha ha ha." Phil brought his face toward hers, but she turned her head, leaving him leaning awkwardly toward the back of her ear. He tried to nibble toward the lobe but ended up grazing on her hair.
"What are your feelings right now?"
"I feel great, how about you?"
"Oh, Phillip, can't you be serious?"
"Sure I can be serious, Trace," Phil said, trying unsuccessfully to pluck a strand of hair from the end of his tongue. "Fire away. I'll anther all quethtions."
"Okay then, what are you feelings toward me?"
"What kind of a question is that?"
Traci drew a face on the fogged part of the side window. "Oh, I don't know. It's just that after Norm..."
"That Prick. I should show him a few things about how to treat girls." Norm was Phil's best friend. It was through Norm's enthusiastic stories of Traci Eichman that Phil first became interested in her. "Guts like that are always on the make." He moved his arm around her waist.
"Oh, he wasn't as bad as all that."
"Sure he was." Norm had told Phil about the night at Lost Lake and a birthmark Traci had Ôsomewhere' on her body. "He's an animal."
"Oh, Norman wasn't really an animal..."
"Okay! I mean, I wouldn't really know about that. I just always thought you were too good for him." He had to find that birthmark. Norm would ask him about it Monday in homeroom.
"So I'm too good for him but not too good for you?" She brought her lips within range. Phil still didn't have the hair out of his mouth, but interrupted the search to catch Traci's lower lip between his teeth.
Fog quickly overtook the side windows and advanced to the front of the car. The face Traci drew began too fade. Phil was chewing on Traci's neck as his hands did a reconnaissance of her back, which was thinly disguised as some sort of massage (Traci's bra clasp had two hooks). Traci pulled a hair from her mouth and tried to look into Phil's eyes from nose length. He looked like a cyclops. "Did you hear about Darla and Steve? They're engaged!"
"There's one born every minute."
Traci sat back and crossed her arms. "Whaddya mean by that?"
Phil tugged his hands free. "Oh, they're not really made for each other," he tried.
"I think they make a cute couple."
"Yeah, I guess, but it's not like that's all you need."
"Steve's got a job... and Darla's really neat with kids," Tracy said, re-drawing the face on the window.
"Sure. Steve can keep his job at the Taco Town and Darla can stay home and be really neat."
"So what's wrong with that?" Traci drew her knees up to her chin as she spoke, snuggling into an impenetrable ball.
"Aw hell, nothing, I guess. It just seems like they get married and it's all over. Darla'll get pregnant on the honeymoon and Steve'll have to act like a dad the rest of his life."
"My mom got married when she was sixteen. She says it was beautiful."
"Okay, I'm not saying it's bad, I'm just saying that I'm... it's not for everyone... uh, yet."
"So why do you even bother taking me out then?"
"I go out with you because... I feel something special with you."
"But you don't think we have a future?"
"I never said that. You think going out is, like, automatically connected to marriage. Like it's always there. Like a birthmark or something."
"So what do you go out with me for?" Tracy turned away.
"Aw hell, Trace, don't you know how I feel about you?" he hit her shoulder with his forehead.
Tracy added curly hair to the face on the window.
Phil kneaded Traci's other shoulder. "Hold me, Trace," he whispered into her ear, collecting another strand in his mouth. "Hol' me."
The face on the window now had an undersized body with long fingers.
"Lemme feel your affection." His hands roamed her waist.
"So, what'd you think of the game?" Traci resumed the fetal position.
"Did you know that guys my age have been known to explode?"
"Well, you can go ahead and explode if you're going to make fun of real commitments."
"Fine."
"Fine!"
They sat in silence, while Phil squeezed his own thigh viciously.
Traci picked at her cuticles. They took turns looking down or straight ahead at the crescent of unsteamed windshield just above the dashboard.
"Uh, Trace?"
"Now what?"
"Aw, never mind. You'll think it's stupid."
"What?"
"Naw, you'll laugh at me."
"No, I won't. Tell me." Traci let one leg down.
"Well, remember when Mrs. Andrews was talking about genes and traits and stuff in biology last Thursday?"
"Yeah?" She turned toward him.
"Well, I was kind of thinking about, uh, what our kids'd look like."
"Oh, you silly!" She put her arms around his neck and leaned her forehead against his. He could see down her blouse.
"I told you you'd laugh." He planted his hand squarely on her thigh.
"Do you love me Phillip?"
Does a bear shit in the woods?" Phil noticed an additional color peeking out from behind the embroidered rose on Traci's bra.
"Birth mark? What did you say?" asked Traci, her eyes trying unsuccessfully to catch his from inches away.
"Beautiful," answered Phil. "I said beautiful." Phil pushed his face forward. Their mouths met agape, their teeth clicking together slightly. Phil went directly for Traci's bra clasp.
The windows were now completely white. The face Traci drew drips condensation from the corner of its mouth.