He pulled up and parked his old Dodge, the one with the broken taillight my mother always complained about. Then he shut the engine off with a quick flick of his wrist. I caught his eye, smiled. He smiled back, no teeth. We stepped out of the car, entering a night world inhabited by a single streetlamp and far too many shadows. The road was darker than I had ever seen it but I had only previously been on it during the day. 

The words ran through my mind. It doesn’t matter. What do the Buddhists say? Be here now. Now.

I smoothed down my dress so that it fell just an inch above my knees. It was deep blue like the star-stained sky above us. I kept it from the days when I always wore blue. 

Jerome, my boyfriend of a year, grinned at me as I yawned a baby doll sized yawn. Everything I did seemed so delicate to him, the man who had grown up only with brothers. I was a lotus petal and he, the Giant Panda whowith clumsy paws. After his split-second display of amusement, Jerome wrapped his arm around me so I wouldn’t be too cold as we walked around my middle school’s soccer field. My feet hadn’t touched those grounds since my last day of gym class in 8th grade. Then my mind wandered back to Jerome’s arm. Somehow, every time he touched me, I instantly warmed up. I must have glowed almost as brightly as the solitary streetlamp that watched over Jerome’s Dodge. 

You’re so corny, I told myself, Love is just about chemicals sloshing around the brain. Chemicals, remember that.

I clutched Jerome’s hand and led him along the edge of the playing field, where years ago I had been with another boy, a different boy. The boy before Jerome. I shook so slightly at the thought that Jerome must have taken the movement for a shiver. He squeezed my hand. I had told myself to forget that other boy, that ghost. He never understood me, not the way Jerome did. We were only thirteen then. Seven years later, I knew more about myself, about boys, about everything.

As we strolled along, Jerome’s hand became increasingly sweaty to the point of clamminess. I counted him swallow at least five times. I knew what he wanted to ask, how he tumbled the words over and over in his mind, trying to decide upon the best way to phrase his question. He was a gentleman and he didn’t want to sound coarse. But he didn’t have to fret. I had to seen him shove the condom into his pocket in the parking garage above the Italian restaurant where we ate dinner. 

Now I was familiar with the concept of condoms. I understood how they worked, why they were necessary. I didn’t understand before but as my older sister Tess explained, health class became much more interesting junior year of high school.

“S-so,” Jerome whispered, “It’s a n-n-nice night.” After a pause, he cleared his throat and said, without stuttering, “Did you enjoy dinner?” He was obviously very nervous, more nervous than I had ever seen him before.

“Of course, you know that’s my favorite restaurant.”

“Oh, right, right. It is.”

“Did you like it?”

“Well, you know how I feel about Italian food so---”

“But you ordered a cheeseburger.” I knew another boy, that other boy, who could live on burgers alone. No ketchup. Just the meat patty and a single slice of American cheese.

Jerome responded, “Yeah, because, well, you know I don’t really like…” he voice trailed off. He had never liked tomato sauce. Is ketchup tomato sauce? Fuck. Again.

My heart raced. Everything reminded me of that boy, this ghost. It was this field, this field I hated. 

We had been walking home from school, holding hands. He tickled me a couple of times too, made me giggle. I was prone to giggling back then. When he suddenly stopped in front of me, halting me right then and there at the edge of the bamboo forest behind the field, I kept giggling. I thought it was a joke. I thought we were still two children, a boy and a girl reveling in their first crush. He glimpsed at me and I felt my eyes sparkle. But his darkened. Then that boy just pushed me down and rolled on top of me. 

He thrust into me, over and over, yet I lied there, absolutely still. He was the one moving. He was moving inside of me. He was tearing me. I bled but I didn’t scream. The only sound I made was a faint, faint whimper that even he probably couldn’t hear because he was panting. Loudly. Sometimes I still hear that breathing.

When he was done, he rested on top of me for a moment. We both sighed at the same time but for completely different reasons. He, out of contentment. Me, out of relief that it had ended. After our simultaneous sigh, he popped up and brushed himself off. He then grinned and offered me a hand but I didn’t accept it. I remained on the ground. He shrugged, “See you at school tomorrow, Carleigh.” I didn’t respond. He pivoted on his left foot and spun around toward home. The only sign of the encounter was his mussed up hair.

Now. Be here now.

“Jerome,” I began.

“Yeah, Carleigh?”

“I want to.”

He paused. “You want to what?”

I did not put one foot farther. “I saw you put that condom in your pocket.”

Even in the dark, I could make out his blushing cheeks. He glanced away, bashfully.

“Oh, Carleigh, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t want to pressure you. You know I’m not like that. I just thought that since it was our anniversary, that maybe…but if you don’t want to…”

“Jerome,” I said, taking his face into my hands, “Didn’t you hear me, baby? I said I want to.” 

His eyelids fell down in disbelief. “I--”

“I do.”

His face broke out into a grin. “Thank you, Carleigh.” Then he pulled me into his broad chest and the panda nuzzled the lotus petal. 

“Do you want to go back to the car, sweetheart?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, Jerome. Let’s do it there.” I pointed to a spot near the first patch of bamboo stalks and my loin quivered out of remembrance.

“Alright, Carleigh. We’ll make love there.” 

“Love,” I repeated. 

We laced fingers and treaded toward my pillage ground.

And Jerome and I buried the ghost.