Longview Lull: Flying with Melody
Longview Lull: Table of Contents
She was 17.
Of course, I didn’t know that at first, only later.
I saw her at church.
I was 12.
She was new.
Her father had just started as the new minister.
I came every Sunday.
My parents threatened to shut off the TV if I didn’t go.
One Sunday she was just there.
In white, even the ribbons in her hair were white, the tips were pink.
Her eyes were brown.
Her hair was brown — golden brown — if that is possible.
Her teeth were white — brilliant.
Perfect except for the slight gap between her 2 front teeth.
She had dark, thick eyebrows.
I saw her at the front of the sanctuary.
I thought she was singing but it was just her lips moving — but not in sync with the hymn.
I was at the back on the right side — staring.
Maybe she was praying but I don’t think so.
I couldn’t stop thinking of her all week.
That’s how the mind of a 12-year-old boy works.
Breasts, nipples, legs, other parts — I couldn’t stop.
Like an obsession — I couldn’t turn off my mind.
Afternoon, evening, night, morning.
After I woke up, when I peed, when I walked, when I waited, when I slept.
That’s when I knew I was in love.
Love is strange.
It happens so fast and hits so hard.
Sudden.
Like falling out of a tree and flying.
I was flying.
High.
Soaring above the ground, above my house, above hers.
Swooping down and looking in her window.
I didn’t even know where she lived but I would find her.
Flying.
Nothing would have happened except we met accidentally at the corner store.
I was buying a can of juice.
She was buying some lemons.
We were in line together — she was first.
Before she had to pay, she turned and smiled at me.
I didn’t say anything — I just grinned.
She dropped a 5 dollar bill and didn’t notice.
I picked it up and handed it to her.
She said, Thanks, and smiled.
I grinned.
She left and I paid for my juice.
I tried to hurry but by the time I got outside she was a long way down the street.
I went flying again.
The next Sunday, I saw her.
This time she was wearing a spring dress, baby blue.
I was hooked.
I swear I could see her nipples poking through the fabric.
I imagined her without a bra — in church.
It’s amazing what I think about in a holy place.
I started flying again.
It was the midpoint in the service.
I whispered to my father that I had to go to the washroom.
I struggled to get past the people in the pew.
I got to the lobby and found the bathroom.
Luckily, no one else was there.
I sat on the toilet and felt myself — I was hard.
A few minutes later I heard the door to the washroom open.
I held my breath.
I wasn’t sure what to do but I pulled my pants up to my knees.
Then I saw a woman’s shoes under the stall door.
I wasn’t sure they were her shoes but I thought they might be.
Then I heard a knock.
My heart stopped.
Who knocks on the door of a toilet stall? I thought.
The knock on the stall door happened again and she said, I know you are in there, open the door.
I stood up, pulled up my pants, and buckled my belt.
It took forever.
I felt trapped — claustrophobic.
I flushed which was dumb because I didn’t need to but felt I had to.
I opened the door and there she was, smiling but it was twisted.
Almost bitter but her eyes glistened — moist like she was about to cry.
I just stared.
I was excited but terrified.
My thoughts were a whirlwind.
I’m Melody, she said.
I must have grinned but I don’t really know.
I nearly collapsed but managed to sit down on the toilet.
I was still flying but now in a tailspin.
I felt like soon I was going to crash.
I couldn’t speak.
I could feel that I still had my pants on.
It felt weird sitting there with my pants on.
I looked up.
I couldn’t look at her face so I stared at her breasts.
I knew I shouldn’t, but sitting on the toilet like I was, I couldn’t help it.
She didn’t seem to notice where I was looking.
My thoughts were now like a hurricane: tumbling, whirling, exposed, whipping around.
Meet me here this afternoon, she said.
Here? I stammered.
Ya, I’ll be here, she replied, Come at 3 o’clock.
Why? I blurted out — it sounded too loud but maybe it wasn’t.
I don’t know, I like you and I know you’ll help me, she replied and left.
I wasn’t so sure.
All I could think about was, Are you freaking serious?
When it comes to girls, I’m like the plague.
They don’t talk to me — they don’t even come close.
Of course, I should have let it go and never returned.
In fact, that was my plan.
I was just going to forget about it.
But in my mind, I wanted to fly with Melody.
I went home with my parents.
I didn’t say a word.
They asked me how I was and what I was going to do for the rest of the day.
I just mumbled something about being busy.
We got home and I ate lunch, quickly — not much — I was so nervous.
I went to the garage and took my bike out and started to ride.
I started to fly.
I flew over the trees and the streets thinking of Melody.
At 3 o’clock I was on the same street as the church.
I parked my bike at the side of the church and went to the back door.
I was sweating — flying does that.
My older brother smokes weed.
He told me I should try it but I never did — too scared to get caught.
I imagined that smoking weed was like flying.
At that moment, I felt like he sounded in his stories.
He told me it was cool.
I thought it might be but I didn’t know how to get any and I wasn’t going to ask my brother.
That wasn’t cool.
I was too scared to smoke weed.
But now I was at the back door of a church — thinking about how to not get caught.
I saw that the back door was open, slightly — so I pulled it open.
It was dark.
Melody wasn’t there so I waited and let my eyes adjust.
Within a minute or two she came up the stairs.
She was still wearing the baby blue dress.
She handed me a knife and said, Follow me.
A knife? I thought, What?
But I followed her.
She had a hammer in her hand which confused me.
I was hypnotized — I kept following her.
We went to the bottom of the stairs, around a corner and down a hall.
I was terrified but excited.
I kept thinking about the knife I was holding but it didn’t matter, I was flying.
My feet weren’t even touching the ground.
It was dark in the basement but I could easily see Melody moving in front of me.
We got to the end of the hall — to the teenagers’ room.
This was a room reserved for teenagers.
I had walked by it many times before but never really gone in — you had to be 13.
I couldn’t wait until I was 13 — then I could be a teenager.
Right now I was a tweenager — I hated that reference.
I sounded so immature and I felt I was mature.
I could only imagine what teenagers did in there.
I knew they listened to music — sang sometimes — talked.
I imagined that they hugged, kissed and touched each other but I wasn’t sure.
Melody stopped and looked through the door, slowly.
She whispered back to me, He’s still there.
I didn’t know who she was talking about — I figured it was her boyfriend.
A boyfriend? I thought and gripped my knife tighter.
My father is asleep on the sofa, she whispered.
We have to kill him, she said, Before he does it again.
My throat tightened, choking, but I managed to croak, Do what?
He hurts…… people — girls, she said quietly.
Did he hurt you? I mouthed back.
She didn’t answer my question.
We have to stop him, he hurt my friends, she replied just above a whisper.
In my thoughts, I screamed, I can’t help you — but I froze.
You have to help me, she whispered, I can’t let him hurt anyone anymore.
I leaned back to run away but she grabbed my arm — the arm holding the knife.
Most of what I remember is a blur — like a tornado — twisted, violent but focused. I remember she pulled me into the room and swung the hammer at his head. She was still holding my arm as she pulled me closer, grabbing me with her other hand and forcing me to stab him. I pulled away but it happened so quickly I know I stabbed him a couple of times with her hand forcing mine. I turned and ran down the hall, up the stairs, out the door and to my bike. I jumped on and rode as fast as I could to a nearby park where my friend and I built forts in the trees. We pretended we were hunters — in Africa — hunting veracious lions and enormous elephants. We teased each other about snakes and sometimes scared the beejesus out of little kids that we occasionally invited to be a part of our secret. Now I was too old for forts but I found an old one and sat in it until my breathing slowed down and my heart stopped beating. I heard sirens but I stayed there until 7 or so until after dinner which is always at 6 thirty on Sundays and I was late. My mother, who was not pleased, asked me where I was and I stammered something about being at the park with Jake. It was a lie but I couldn’t think of anything else.
I never saw Melody again except on TV.
I heard she was arrested.
She went to court and the full story came out.
She was acquitted because of the terrible things her father had done.
I have no idea what happened to the knife — she must have cleaned off my fingerprints.
I heard that he was stabbed but that wasn’t what killed him — the wounds were superficial.
It was the blow from the hammer that killed him — the impact and the hemorrhaging.
Her mother and her moved to another town.
I thought of Melody often but it took me a long time before I flew again.
Jeff Nelson
March 17, 2013
