i bet i never told you about the one time . . .

when i very publicly embarrassed myself in front of half of Holy Family School.

my friend bryce's grandparents used to watch us in the morning before school. my mom would drop me off on her way to work and we'd get into shit in his grandparents' living room until it was time to pile into his grandfather's cadillac and head up the road.

bryce would always get in trouble, too. once, his grandfather found a squeeze bottle of grape jelly under his bed that had been sitting there for weeks. his grandfather asked him why he had it under the bed and bryce said he was putting it on crackers one day and left it under there by mistake.

i listened to the whole exchange from down the hall. suddenly, i heard a *thwack* and bryce came dancing down the hall, holding his left ass cheek.

anyway, one day, we were going back to school after a few snow days. bryce's grandfather pulled up alongside a mound of snow, and bryce hopped out, darting towards the parking lot. i slid across the bouncy leather seat, saying, "wait for me, bryce!" but he was gone.

i think i made it about 20 feet from the crowd when i felt my legs go from under me. the next thing i know, i'm sliding on my back, bookbag propping up my head, looking at the sky. i came to a rest at everyone's feet and was immediately greeted with an outbust of laughter. it felt like some shit out of a children's book. you know, the kind with the kid fighting off a cloud of misfortune all day.

i was so embarrassed. i gathered myself and stood up like nothing happened. i don't even know where bryce was, the fucker. i got laughed at for 2 more days until the incident became old news.

i ended up blaming my mom because she wouldn't buy me a pair of British Knights to go along with my uniform. they were the "it" shoes back then, but i was stuck with a pair of Giovanni Prancers.

(they weren't really called "Prancers", but, you know, i can't reasonably say anything positive about thoe shoes.)

"Fell out twice in the basement."

gerald stood in front sister, giving his orders for the evening.

"just make sure no one comes downstairs. i'm having company in a little while."

his sister, engrossed in a phone conversation and not listening, pulled her ear from the receiver and made eye contact with him.

"huh?"

gerald exhaled loudly and once again made his demands clear.

"i want privacy. melanie's coming over and i don't want anyone to come downstairs."

gearld shifted his eyes from his apathetic sister to his infant niece, who was bashing toys together on the floor next to her mom.

"this means you, too." he said, laughing. his niece halted her cacophony and held up a plastic orange ring in gerald's direction. a peace offering. a token of understanding. gerald kneeled, thanked her for the toy, and gave her a kiss.

he stood just in time to hear the trademark rattling of melanie's car enter his cul de sac and see her headlights casting their beams over each house as she rounded the corner. he watched as she parked and stepped from her car. she was always slow, delicate, and calculated in her movements, as if she knew he was staring from his finger-sized window view.

gerald was at the front door watching her approach from the peephole before she could ring the doorbell. to avoid appearing too anxious, he observed her face -- now bulbous -- for a few seconds. she was stunning, even from a fish lens perspective.

melanie represented the perfect combination of intelligence and attractiveness to gerald. they were only a month into their summer romance, but in his mind, the future was limitless. gerald's heart palpitated as he angled his head more to observe her body. he scanned back up to her face, which was transforming from idle to impatient. she looked straight ahead at the peephole as if she knew gerald was standing on the other side and rang the doorbell again.

gerald sister stopped her conversation and yelled from the floor above.

"gerald, are you gonna get the door?"

a rush of humid air ushered her inside.

"took you long enough."

"good evening to you, too."

they embraced -- gerald's nose resting in her hair -- until he felt melanie pull away and crane her neck towards the staircase.

"hi!" she said.

gerald heard giggling and noticed his niece, who had just learned to travel down the stairs, making an about face and positioning herself on her belly.

"no!" he shouted. "stay upstairs!"

gerald managed to grab her a third of the way down, scooping up her tiny body as she kicked and screamed. her ams went limp as she tried to slide from gerald's grasp, but he managed to plop her down on the couch beside her mom, who was oblivious to what was going on.

"keep her upstairs!" he said.

"huh?"

as he turned to leave the room, his niece threw the same orange ring at his feet.

in the basement, gerald and melanie chatted about their days and upcoming weekend plans. he was so excited to see her, but his bravado wouldn't allow him to show it. he flipped through an assortment of VHS tapes next to his VCR until he settled on something.

"wanna watch a horror movie?"

she shot him a look of contempt.

"oh, come on, this is nothing. i watch stuff like this all the time. i'll protect you."

melanie chuckled and reluctantly agreed. as gerald slide the tape from its sleeve, the thunderstorm that had been brewing zapped out the house's power. gerald froze -- his plans to have a frightened melanie clutching his arm had, too, disappeared.

"let's just talk," melanie said. "we don't need any movies. i missed you."

gerald sat on the floor with his back resting against the couch and stretched his skinny arms across the cushions. melanie scooted in close to him, gave him a kiss, and placed her head on his chest. he gently scratched at her scalp as the two sat illuminated by the lone functioning streetlight towering above melanie's car outside.

everything was perfect.

"this reminds me of that night at my grandmother's house when i was 10. did i tell you about that?"

"no."

"well, i had been staying there all summer, but that place never felt right. it was a big, old house with no air conditioning, but the guest room where i was staying always felt extremely cold. i always felt a presence in there, too -- like someone standing over me as i slept."

gerald stopped stroking her scalp.

"are you listening?" she asked.

"yeah. go on."

"so the night before i'm scheduled to go back home, a really, really bad thunderstorm hit. i couldn't get to sleep for hours. in the middle of the night, i woke up, and a really strong light, just like the streetlight outside now, was beaming through the room. i was shocked because there weren't any lights close to my grandmother's house. i tried to get up to pull the curtains closed, but i swear, gerald, i couldn't move my body. i felt like i was tried to the bed from the neck down.

have you ever heard of sleep paralysis?"

gerald felt a lump forming in his throat.

" . . . yeah."

"yeah! so i'm freaking out, right, but i can't move! it's just me in this house, stuck to the bed, hoping nothing else happens."

gerald moved his hand from melanie's scalp and let it drop to the floor. she continued with her story without noticing.

"since i can only move my face, i start looking around the room. i notice the usual stuff: my suitcase, a framed picture of my grandfather, and my grandmother's dolls propped up on the chest.

then, i looked down at the closet and noticed the doors were ajar. and gerald, i swear on everything, there was a green hand poking out from the opening in the closet doors. it was like some demon hand with visible read veins. it just sat there and didn't move at all."

gerald mouthed "what the fuck?"

he was now terrified. he stretched his arms across the couch cushions again and shifted to a more upright position. his affinity for the macabre, which was so poignant earlier that night, was coming back to bite him. his mind started racing through a B-movie catalog of unreasonable scenarios.

who is melanie, anyway? i've only known her for one month.

i knew she was too good to be true.

is she a demon, preparing to rip me to shreds right here in my own basement?

does she use this story to kill all of her flings?

gerald's heart was now beating rapidly. the movement in his frail chest was the sound of a tanzanian villege elder's hands beating a drum at dusk. he gulped for air and exhaled in staggered patterns -- his mouth now as dry as a sun-baked loincloth.

indeed, this was the end.

"are you okay?" melanie asked.

"yeah, why?" he replied, fighting through his fright.

"your heart is beating so fast."

just then, the power came back on and brought an end to gerald's moment of terror. melanie looked at him with squinted eyes, stretched, and took a look at her watch.

"i think i'd better go," she said. "you know i have a long drive back home."

as they walked hand in hand to her car, she asked if he wanted to come back to her parents' house after their movie date next weekend.

gerald gave her a kiss goodnight.

"no. let's do something outdoors. like go to a park. are there any nice parks close to your parents' house? let's do that. call me when you get home."

i just received some mail addressed to Jerrel Smith.

who the fuck is Jerrel Smith?