Marilyn didn't linger. There was no point in it. Also, she had better things to do, such as her homework and getting some rest. This might be the last night she would spend with Michael before he went back to his normal life without her. She wanted to be ready.

She didn't see the car coming. She heard it. Maybe one block and a half down the street from school, the loud noise of an engine made her turn. It was coming straight at her. As if it were to run right off the street and onto the sidewalk. Where she stood. She wasn't even scared as she faced the radiator grille. There was no time for fear. Dropping her History book and folder she had still been carrying from her last class, she took a step back. It was pointless. She wouldn't stand a chance. A young mother in a front yard screamed.

The car didn't run off the street. At the last moment, the driver yanked the steering wheel around. The vehicle grazed the curb with a screeching sound, sending a gush of dirty water in Marilyn's direction, spilling it over her book and folder on the ground, her sandals, legs and the lower part of her dress. Then the car quickly gained speed as it drove away. Peter leaned out of the back window to check the result, and cursed at having largely missed her. The young mother quickly ushered her two children inside and closed the door.

For a moment, Marilyn stood there in shock, watching the car go. Then she thought of her History book.
"No, no, no, no, no!" she whispered, as she collected it from the ground. Her notes would dry, and she could still use them, even if they were a bit dirty, but the book belonged to the school, and she had to return it by the end of the year. On top of that, the teacher was extremely picky about the books. For the lack of anything else, Marilyn tried to dry it with the hem of her dress, that was dirty anyway, but the cut edges had already started to warp at the top.

While she was still crouching on the ground trying desperately to get as much water and dirt off the book as possible, other cars of other students started to pass by.
"Hoo-hoo! What'ya doin', Edmond?" someone yelled, honking the horn, "Havin' a picnic in the street?" and Marilyn became aware, that it was only a matter of time until someone else would think her a perfect aim and splash another round of water over her. So she picked up her folder, too, and still dabbing the book with her dress, quickly continued on her way.

The first thing she did when she got home, was to lay her notes and the book out to dry, then she took a shower before having a closer look at her dress. Although Thomas - it had been his car - hadn't managed to splash water all over her, the lower part was still dirty and the dress needed to be washed. And as she had a few other things that needed to be washed, too, she decided she might as well do it right away and hang them out to dry as long as the sun was still up.

While the machine washed, Marilyn slept. She had set an alarm to wake her again after an hour and a half, and when it went off, she was so groggy from sleep, that she had to drag herself out of bed. Eyes half closed she crawled to the washing machine to retrieve her laundry.

Next to the door that led from the kitchen to the garage was a second one that led outside to the pool next to the house and to the back yard beyond. The basket with her laundry under one arm, Marilyn headed past the pool towards the garden. She was still feeling drowsy and not really paying attention to anything, when suddenly something caught her foot. The basket with her laundry went flying, and Marilyn met painfully with the tiled ground.

Sitting on the floor and holding her throbbing ankle, she looked around for the cause of her fall. One of the tiles that covered the pool area was elevated, maybe by some tree root or whatever else could cause such things. Marilyn cursed it. She cursed the tile and the trees and Thomas and Peter - and Brian, too, while she was at it.

The basket with her laundry in lay turned over a few feet away, and two of her tops were swimming in the pool. On all fours, she struggled to fish them out and almost fell in herself. What a cursed day this was! There was no doubt that the tops needed rinsing, and as the rest of her laundry was dusty from being spilled out on the ground, Marilyn decided to put all of it back in the washer for an extra rinse before hanging it to dry.

While the machine worked, she sat on the sofa nursing her foot. It felt slightly numb and tender and hurt a bit when she walked. She had put it up high on a set of pillows and was cooling it with a handful of ice cubes wrapped in a towel. Tonight would probably be the last chance for her to meet Michael. What if she couldn't walk? In a sudden panic, she searched the medicine chest for some cooling ointment and rubbed her ankle with it. Then she went back to sitting on the sofa.

When her parents came home, she reported the incident immediately. While her father went outside to check on the tile, and categorized it as a tripping hazard that needed fixing someday, her mother had a look at Marilyn's ankle. She didn't find anything obvious, but suggested that Marilyn should go to bed early and cool and rest her foot. If it wasn't any better in the morning, she would take Marilyn to the hospital with her, so it could be x-rayed.

"Isn't there anything else we can do, mum? To make it get better sooner?" Marilyn was aware that she sounded desperate but couldn't help it.
"No, hun, there's nothing we can do right now. Just rest it. Why is it so important?"
Marilyn tried to think of something, but her mind was blank. Well, it wasn't, really. It was full of Michael.
"It's not, actually," she finally said, defeated. "I just don't want to miss school, tomorrow."
Her mother looked at her for a moment, then she smiled. "Well, whoever it is you want to see, he'll still be at school the day after tomorrow, love."
"That's not it, mum. Really, it isn't."
If only her mother knew. But she didn't. And maybe it was better this way, too. Marilyn, however, knew that going to bed early and resting until the morning wasn't a piece of advice she could take.

The street was descending and following a mild curve. The houses on the right were built higher up the hill and their land sloped towards the street, in places protected against landslides by walls along the sidewalk.

"It really hurts to see you like that, you know?!" Michael said suddenly after a moment of silence.
Marilyn felt taken aback. Although her ankle did hurt when walking, it wasn't that bad and she had been convinced that she was hiding it well.
"What happened?"
"Ah, nothing, really. I fell. It's nothing."
"Why are you here? You can hardly walk!"
"Now you're exaggerating!"

It had come out sharper than she had intended. But somehow he had hit a nerve. What kind of stupid question was that, anyway? She was here because she liked being with him. And the fact, that he didn't seem to know, didn't even seem to consider the possibility, hurt.
Michael looked at Marilyn and sucked in his cheeks.
"Honestly...!" she added in a softer tone trying to take off the edge. Uncomfortable under his eyes, she turned her attention to the houses across the street.

"Okay," Michael said after another brief moment of silence. There had been a few too many brief moments of silence that night. "Let's take a break!" The wall to their right was almost the height of his chest. He patted the top and smiled. "You can sit here!" Then a little dispenser that stood by the wall a few feet away, caught his attention, and he moved towards it while Marilyn wondered how she would be able to actually climb up onto the wall.
After only two steps he thought better of it and turned sharp on his heel. "Let me help you."

He was so close that Marilyn felt his legs against her knees. He put his hands on her body. She didn't dare to breathe.
"Ready? One, two, THREE..."
His hands closed tight around her waist, and then, for a moment, her body was subject to him.

Marilyn didn't remember what it felt like to be lifted up. Of course parents and relatives had picked her up and carried her, when she had been a child, but that was so long ago, now, that she couldn't recall any particular occasion. And being lifted by a father or a mother or maybe an uncle was one thing. Being lifted by a young man was quite another. Something happened in her stomach, when he did. And after all she was heavier, now, than she had been as a toddler, yet he didn't seem to mind. Marilyn was sporty, but she couldn't imagine lifting him. Well, in an emergencies she probably could have, but not like this. They were the same age, more or less, yet they were different. He was a man, and she was not.

Michael sat her on top of the wall and grinned. "There you go, ma'am!" he said, and then turned his attention back to the little machine, while Marilyn still marvelled at his sudden display of strength. He didn't look that strong.

As the dispenser apparently aimed at children it was only about the height of Michael's hips, and so he had to lean down to have a closer look at it. He then raided his pockets for change and started to put coins into it, twisted its metal screw, looked at what he had been given and put in another coin.

"What are you doing?" Marilyn asked after a while of watching him and lightly beating the heels of her sneakers against the whitewashed wall.
"Getting candies."
"What are they?"
"'Fuzzballs'-Wait, what?- This is kinda scratched..." he dug lower and brought his face closer to the machine, rubbing the label with his thump, "'Fizzballs' - Fizzy Fizzballs - Fussy Fizzballs. I like 'Fuzzballs' better!" Chuckling at himself, he put another coin into the dispenser and turned the metal screw.
"How many do you want?"
"Actually, I don't want any," Michael said, as he looked in the collection of change in his left hand for yet another fitting coin.
Marilyn narrowed her eyes at him, but he was too pre-occupied getting candies he didn't want to notice it.
"So, why are you doing it??"
Now he did look up. "I want one of those!" He tapped one of his long fingers against the little window in the front of the machine.
Sitting on the wall, Marilyn moved closer to him and the dispenser and leaned forward to see what he meant. She had to lean forward quite far.
"Don't fall!" said Michael.

"You want a Smiley ring?"
"Yes!" His mouth was full of white teeth.
"Aren't you a bit old for that? - The fact that the dispenser doesn't even reach up to your waist might be a hint!"
Michael cocked his head and seemed to seriously consider the question. "I want it. So, no, I guess not!"
"Given how many coins you've put in already, you could easily have bought a Smiley ring somewhere. Or you could have bought the machine!"
In response, Michael threw one of the candy balls at Marilyn. He threw it hard, but clearly didn't aim to hit, so it soared well past her. She even tried to catch it, but wasn't fast enough, and it disappeared beyond recovery in the greenery on the other side of the wall. Marilyn turned and scanned the bushes for it, but it was hopeless. When she turned back around, Michael smiled and threw another candy in her direction. This time it came in a gentle arc for her to catch.

They both sat on the wall opposite each other, the candies on Marilyn's spread handkerchief between them, and were organizing the fizzballs by color. The majority were orange, then there was almost the same amount of yellow ones. There were less red balls and even less dark red ones, five green ones, and finally two blue ones. The Smiley ring on Michael's left ring finger smiled at Marilyn. It was adjustable, and he'd had to bend it open all the way to fit it on his hand. Silly as it was, Marilyn somehow wished she had one, too.

After the colourful balls were laid out like a rainbow, she started counting them. "... 16, 17, 18, plus the one in the bushes makes 19."
"Pluf de one in ma mouf makef 20!" Michael slurred around the candy ball on his tongue, trying not to spit it out, accidentally.
"I counted that one already."
"Oh, okay!" With a loud crack he brought his teeth down on it, and almost immediately broke into frantic laughter, leaning back and rocking forward again. "Uh, oh-oh! They're fun! There's fizzy stuff inside! You gotta try this!" Marilyn could smell the raspberry flavour on his breath.
She maneuvered her candy ball between her teeth and tentatively tried to crack it open. It was hard, and she just wondered, if she might have to suck on it for a little while longer, when the shell broke and carbonated candy powder flooded her tongue. The sudden sour taste made her squeal, and Michael started another round of laughing, as if his mouth were full of pucker powder all over again.

At first, Marilyn thought she wouldn't have another of those candy balls, thank you very much, but when the fizz melted away, she found herself giggling and realized that in an odd way it had been an enjoyable sensation.

"What color did you have?" Michael asked, scanning their collection.
"Orange."
"What did it taste like?"
"Orange! Well, somewhat, at least. I bet the yellow ones are supposed to be lemon."
"Or pineapple, maybe?"
"Banana?"
"Or..." Michael had the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Even in the poor light it was pink against his dark lips. "I can't believe I'm running out of yellow fruits so quickly! Gosh, and there should be so many!" Then he popped a yellow candy ball in his mouth. Moments later he confirmed that it tasted of lemon.

Half a dozen Fizzballs later, Marilyn had the feeling the sugar would glue her teeth together, and her tongue felt numb. Even though they walked slowly, it seemed as if they arrived back at her street quicker than usually. They had walked in silence for quite some time, and Marilyn was still pondering the idea of asking him about his ability to start working again as the two weeks since his accident were over, when he slowed and stopped.
"This is my car," he said.

It was. It was the same pick-up he had driven away in with Bill and his bicycle, and that he had always come in. Marilyn had just expected it to be parked closer to her house. Under her eyes Michael pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. Then he took the handle and looked at his hand. His thumb slowly rubbed over the lock, but otherwise he didn't move.
Something was up. Marilyn felt it. Unbidden, her heart started to race.
Then his back straightened, and he took a deep breath. "There's something," he said, as he turned back to her.

And Marilyn experienced a falling feeling. As if her heart had torn lose and were falling through her chest until it bounced heavily on her midriff.

~~~~~
Hey, guys! :)

So, what do you all think Michael is going to say? What's bothering him? What do you think? Leave me a comment! I'd love to know your thoughts! ;)

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Have a wonderful day! I love you all! <33

You-know-who ^^°v°^^