Date: Mon, 7 May 2012 15:32:06 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tyler Adams <tyleradamsbooks@yahoo.com>
Subject: Almost Straight ch 11

"Hey Elijah," I called out as I was leaving the library, "You got plans for
this afternoon?"

I hadn't been sure about how I was going to get there before I saw him, but
I had been planning to find a way to get to the mall today to start
checking out diamond engagement rings. I figured there's no use waiting
until the last minute for something as important as this was, and when I
saw him, I remembered that he had told me he had a car at school.

"Ah, actually, I don't. Why? You want to get together and do something?"

"You've got a car, right?"

"...and?"

"...and, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the mall? I need to do a
little shopping."

"Sounds like that could be fun. What time?"

"Any time after right now, works for me."

"Did you need to get anything from your dorm room first?"

"Nope, I'm ready already.



We crossed campus and crawled into Elijah's silver blue Chrysler
Crossfire. I felt a smile overtaking my face as he pushed a button on the
console to retract the top. It was a chilly afternoon, but I didn't care.

"I've never ridden in one of these."

"A Chrysler?"

"No. A convertible"

He smiled as I fastened my seatbelt, and gunned it for the parking lot
exit.

We were going about seventy miles per hour in the opposite direction of the
Nittany Mall, but I didn't care in the least. This was so neat. Elijah
glanced over at me, grinning, and then punched the accelerator pedal to the
floor.

"Highest I've ever had it is a buck twenty-five," he yelled above the wind
noise as the speedometer approached the century mark and the radar detector
affixed to the windshield began screeching its warning alarm at us. He
immediately hit the brakes fairly hard. Evidently it wasn't hard enough,
because about a half mile down the road we passed the cruiser that had sent
out the radar signal, the red and blue on top already flashing.

"Not again," Elijah moaned.



"Nice car," the officer commented as he stood next to Elijah. "You think
you were at a race track?"

He flipped the pages back on his citation book.

"Don't suppose you know how fast you were going a half mile up the road?"

"Ah-h, eighty?"

"Ah... no. Try ninety-seven."

Elijah cringed. "Yes sir"

"Mind if I ask why you were doing ninety-seven miles per hour in a posted
sixty-five zone?"

"I guess I was trying to impress my friend, sir."

"And does your friend know it's illegal to use a radar detector to avoid
speed traps?" he asked looking straight at me.

"Crap," Elijah muttered under his breath, looking at the black box which
was at the moment doing its best to act innocent of all wrongdoing.

"I didn't know sir," I meekly replied, "Is it illegal?"

I saw the officer giving the interior of the car a good visual inspection,
being very careful not to touch anything. "Yes it is. You guys have
anything in the car that you're trying to hide?"

"No sir, just the radar detector."

"May I suggest you pull it off the windshield and tuck it under your seat?
It'd cost you a hundred eighty bucks and three points if I happen to see
it."

"Yes sir," Elijah said again as he slipped the unit off of the suction cup
window mounts and slid it beneath him.

"I'll need to see your driver's license, registration, and insurance card."

After pulling his license from his wallet, Elijah reached across my knees
to root around in the glovebox for the registration and insurance cards. I
held my breath and squeezed back in my seat to try and avoid him touching
me. His hair smelled like coconut oil, and it was all I could do to keep
from leaning forward and burying my nose in his scalp.

I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally found the cards and turned to
present them to the State Trooper.

"Cohen, from Conshohocken. You don't know a Daniel Cohen by chance?"

"My uncle Daniel? You know him?"

"You're his nephew? We were in the academy together. He went into detective
work, and I went for trooper. Yeah I know Daniel. So how's he doing? I
haven't seen him in... Gosh, it must be twenty years."

"He's still a detective. ...got remarried a few years ago. He has a fifteen
year old daughter from his first marriage, and now, he's got two year old
twins."

"Son of a gun. Better him than me. Wow, twins. I wouldn't wish that on an
enemy.

Officer Schindler finished writing in his citation book and handed it to
Elijah for his signature.

"I'm letting you go this time with a warning. But if I ever catch you going
one mile per hour over the speed limit, I'm writing you up for
ninety-seven, plus a radar detector. Have a nice day gentlemen."

We just sat there while the officer got in his car and then signaled for us
to proceed.



Pulling into a parking space at the mall, Elijah pressed the button that
lifted the top back into place while I sat and marveled at the technology
that went into creating such a mechanism. It felt cozy sitting next to him
with the top in place and windows closed. He smiled at me and opened his
door.

"So, you didn't tell me why you needed to come here."

"I just wanted to check out something I was thinking I'd need soon."

As soon as we were inside, I spotted a jewelry store.

"You don't need to hang with me if you have something else you need to
get." I was kind of hoping he would take the hint.

"Nah, I don't really need anything. I'll just hang with you."

I suddenly felt uneasy – like I was embarrassed for him to know what I
was shopping for.



"May I look at that solitaire?" I asked the sales associate behind the
glass showcase.

"Certainly." She pushed her key into the lock and slid the glass door
open. "Our diamonds are all thirty percent off this week. Do you have a
price range in mind?"

"I'm just looking, but I'm thinking I need to stay under a thousand
dollars."

She pulled the ring I was eyeing up from the box and placed it into my
hand.

"You gonna ask her to marry you?" Elijah asked quietly.

"Over Christmas break"

She's a lucky girl," he bemoaned, disappointment apparent on his face.

"How so?" I asked.

"I mean you seem like a really nice guy. There aren't many nice guys out
there. She's just lucky to have someone like you."

I pushed the ring back into the lady's hand and asked to see another.

"That one's really nice," he said, and draped his arm around my shoulder,
leaning in to look at it with me.

The wiry hair on his arm tickled my neck. His breath smelled of peppermint
and his soft curls brushed against my cheek. I felt my ears growing hot.

"I wish I could find someone as nice as you."

His lament gave me pause.

God, it's happening again. Please keep him from doing this to me, I
pleaded, now wishing I had found some other way to get to the mall.

Although I hadn't really decided which cut of diamond I actually liked
best, I suddenly felt I had to make a decision. "That one's really
nice. How much is it?"

"I'm afraid your tastes may outweigh you pocketbook, sweetheart. Even on
sale, this one comes to..." She began punching numbers into a pocket
calculator, and without looking up said, "thirteen thirty-four eighty-six
with tax. We do have a lay-a-way plan, though, and financing is also an
option it you qualify. Would you like me to put it back for you?"

I felt all panicky, and moved out from under Elijah's arm. I hadn't really
intended to buy a ring today, but it was like I somehow felt I was being
forced to play my hand. ...that I if I put it off, I was going to fall
deeper into wanting – lusting for him instead of Shelly.

I chose Shelly, and pulled four one-hundred dollar bills from my pocket.

"Would this be enough to hold the ring for me until financing is approved?"

"Certainly"

"Would I get my deposit back if they turn me down for credit?"

"You needn't worry about that, Mr...." she waited for me to tell her my
name, and then finished her reply. "Of course we will Mr. Johnson. Our
return policy is printed on the back of the receipt."

Both Elijah's and my mood seemed to be sullen rather than joyous as I
filled out the necessary paperwork to apply for credit. Of course, I knew
the real reason, but told myself it was because I didn't know where I was
going to get the extra money to pay for my impulsive purchase. Thirteen
hundred dollars is a lot of money, but Shelly is worth every penny, I
reasoned.



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Sunday, November 9, 2008



Dear journal,



Thoughts about today: God, you're all I need or want in this life. I know
you'll see me through this. I can really see that Elijah needs to become a
Christian so he stops hitting on me (at least it felt like that's what he
was doing at the mall). It would be so neat to see you change his life the
same way you did mine. I think then I'd be proud to tell Shelly he was my
"boyfriend."

I can't wait to see Shelly's face when I give her the ring. Please prepare
her heart so she knows I'm the one you have for her.



Honesty time: I can't put my finger on why, but there's something gnawing
in the pit of my stomach whenever I think about us getting married. Guess
it's just nerves. Getting married is a really big step in a person's life.



What I learned: Don't look back, or even to the side; just do what you know
is right.



Honesty time revisited: I put this journal down, but all I've thought about
for the last half hour is that what I wrote wasn't completely honest. I'm
still not sure I want to go there, so I'm writing this in pencil so I can
erase it later. God help me.

I know the gnawing in my gut is because of how I felt when I was with
Elijah at the mall, and I don't know how to handle that. I think I could
fall in love with him, Lord. I mean love, love – like maybe even more
than with Shelly. I know it's really messed up to feel that way about a
guy, so help me to do the right thing and focus on her.



` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `
` ` `



For some reason, when I came to the word "proud" as I reread my journal
entry for the day, it made me stop and think how perverted men have taken a
regular word like that, and twisted it to make it seem like something
sinful is good. You can't even use that word anymore without someone
questioning your sexual orientation. How could anyone actually be proud of
themselves for intentionally doing what they know is wrong? ...and I don't
believe they're actually "gay" either. That's ridiculous. That's another
word they hijacked from the English language. It's all an illusion where
you choose to only focus on carnal pleasure. ...sort of like I still do
sometimes when I think about me and Casey. Truth is, it wasn't gay at all;
it got me into drinking and using drugs.

"Satan's a pretty good counterfeiter," I thought to myself – my mind
suddenly transported back to a particularly steamy time with Casey – and
a rare kiss with him. I remember how the sparse stubble on his upper lip
sent chills down my spine.

I stopped myself from reminiscing further. "It's counterfeit!" Even if I
never feel chills running down my spine again, at least I know that what I
have for Shelly is true love.