A Ballad for Allison Porter by Gary Solomon

Author:Gary Solomon
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781618130419
Publisher: eBooks2go, Inc.

Chapter VI

There were some good times, and there were some bad times. I hope Emerson doesn’t mind if I steal a thought or two. But it’s the truth. In spite of everything that went wrong in my life, I can remember some happy times mixed in with the sad; it was the happy times that got me through it all.

Allison Porter

Notes to myself: I’m not sure that I’ve ever felt this way. What way? What way is that, Kevin? Are you angry? Overwhelmed? Sad? What? I wish I knew. I’ve been just sitting in this closet for fifteen minutes, holding Allison’s memories on my lap. There’s no map. No clues. No book of explanations. Just a shoe box full of junk. Junk? Is that what it is, junk? Not to Allison. To her, it must have been her pieces-of-everything. Hell, I had one, too. The funny thing is that even though there’s no way of telling what any of this stuff means, it all looks a bit familiar. Yet, there is nothing familiar at all. I’ll never be able to figure out what it all means. Frustrated. That’s what I feel, frustrated. I found a torn, autographed picture of Kenny Rogers. It looks fake. Kenny Rogers, now there’s someone who’s a hell of a long way from being a balladeer.

***

“No, I said no! I don’t want to. I’m not ready!”

“You’ve been telling me that for almost a year. Shit, are you ever going to be fucking ready? Jesus. All of our friends are doing it.”

“I don’t care! And don’t talk to me like that. I don’t care what they’re doing,” shouted Allison as she opened the door to the 1970 Mustang. “I’ll do it when I’m ready.”

It was late June. The sky was rich with light, and the ground was free from all the debris left by Portland’s worst storm in years. And although it was still a little chilly on Mt. Tabor, Allison and Chris took little notice of the discomfort it caused them. Most of the local young people used Mt. Tabor as a place to park and avoid being hassled by the local police. Between the smell of the pine-scented tree air and the spectacular view of the city, Mt. Tabor was known for being a place where a boy could get lucky with a first-timer.

“What about me? What am I supposed to do? You don’t know what it’s like. I’m going crazy. For the love of God, my balls are a permanent shade of blue.”

“I told you not to talk to me that way. You promised me. You promised you would stop using those words,” said Allison leaning against the hood of his car. “Why do you have to push me so much? There are things you can do to take care of yourself. You don’t need me.”

“It’s not the same,” whined Chris, trying to calm her down. “Are you telling me you don’t have any desire at all?”

“Chris, we’ve talked about this a thousand times. Of course I do.

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