The Woman Who Stares at the Ceiling

By Ami A. Weghorst

Staff Writer

wenty minutes later they are in Alex's small car again, but this time Rachel sits in front. Looking innocently out the window, Rachel is vaguely irritated by the speed of Alex's driving. Soon, Alex has taken everyone else to his/ her homes, letting Shaela out first. When Alex drops off the boy who was so enamored with Boston, he leans toward Rachel before opening his door.

"I hope I see you again sometime," he says.

"I'm sure you won't," she replies. "I'm going back to Boston soon."

"Boston, wow! I envy you: I'd love to live there."

"Towns are all the same," Rachel says softly. "Only the names are different."

"There's gotta be something you like the best."

"Not at the moment. Right now it's all the same."

"Have a good night, man," Alex interrupts with just a tiny note of irritation in his voice. Rachel is pleased to hear it.

"Oh, right. Hey, thanks for the ride, Alex. Maybe IÕll run into you in Boston someday, Rachel."

"Maybe," she says, "but I wouldn't put any money on it."

The boy opens the door and gets out of the car. As they drive away, Rachel looks back and sees him standing on the pavement, watching their taillights fade.

Alone in the car, Alex says, "That guy is a total moron."

Rachel laughs. "Do I detect a note of jealousy there, Alex?"

He pauses for a moment. "Maybe. But he's an idiot either way." There is no laughter in his voice. Rachel considers asking him if he turned the music up that loudly on the ride to the party to stop their conversation, but realizes she doesn't want to know the answer.

Rachel directs him back to her house; it is a short ride. He parks in front of her driveway and hesitates. She places her hand on his knee and says, "Would you like to come in?"

Alex is staring over the steering wheel, his hands locked into the 10:00 and 2:00 positions on the wheel. Rachel can tell he is debating and is immediately irritated. She is just about to tell him to forget the whole thing when he turns to her and says, "I would very much like to come in," with as much sincerity as she has ever seen in a 19 year old boy.

Rachel smiles and the faint hope, again brushes through her stomach. They climb out of the car. She leads him to the back entrance of her parents' home. Silently they walk across the wet grass and Rachel is once more thankful that her parents' guest bedroom has its own outside door. It is a pleasant luxury to be able to avoid their curious eyes when she comes and goes through their home.