trust one of them. Something hurts in you, worse
than that time you were playing football with the
guys and Frank Popovich tackled you into the cement-block wall. You know if you tell your mom
Ted said this word, you would never be allowed to
come back here again.
Ted flips the burgers. They’re almost done. You
hungry? he asks with a smile. No, you shake your
head, you’re not hungry anymore and make up
something about going home.
You cross inside to get your coat and backpack
because your bike is parked out front. You pass
the Sam Cooke record still playing and you reach
for it, yanking it off Ted’s expensive record player. You break it in half, hurting your hand, and
throw it on the floor as you run out the front
door.
Jumping on your bike, you push it off their
porch, slamming your feet on the pedals as you
ride down the street. You pedal faster and faster
until everything around you is a blur because this
makes sense to you, this you can understand even
though you still love him and you don’t.
Ron Burch’s short stories have been published
in Mississippi Review, Cheap Pop, PANK and
others. He’s been nominated for a Pushcart, and
his first novel “Bliss Inc.” was published by
BlazeVOX Books. www.ronburch.com.