Septemus 46

Cru7hing 77


Is it love when you keep seeing the same face whenever you close your eyes?

That smile, those gray eyes, that cute little blonde hair I want to muss up.

It’s a crush, that’s for sure.


I think I’ve always had a crush on Lucas, every since I was a little kid and he came over to play with the doll house. He said he’d be my big brother then, but now I don’t want him as a brother. I want him as my other.

My school notebook testifies: Lucas inna-inna E I’ve written in every margin. And then, little drawings of him.


Even as a cartoon, he’s cute.

He asked me to teach him how to communicate telepathically.

“I’m not sure it’s something that can be taught,” I said, only I didn’t say it out loud.

“Sure it can,” he said back, also not out loud.


So, we have that connection.

He’s the only person besides Pops that I’ve talked to this way, on the inside, who’s not one of my gotogo.

He says the funniest things. For example, he imagined a couple of sumo wrestlers walking down a street. Then he imagined the music to Pink Panther, and when he put the two together–I lost it.


He kept a straight face, and that made it funnier.

He does the dishes when he comes over. That’s thoughtful. Sometimes, he even volunteers to take out the trash.


“You don’t have to do chores when you’re over!” I told him. I said that out loud.

“But I like to!” he said. He said that inside his head.

“But you’re the company!” I replied. Pops has always been drilling good manners into me: “Company first,” he says.


“Oh, come on,” said Lucas. “Company is what the little church ladies who come over on Tuesday afternoon are. I’m your boy Lucas. If you wanted, I could practically live here!”

I thought about that. I must admit, at that moment, I went deep into daydream. I put up a quick shield, so he wouldn’t see all my crazy thoughts.


And then, I imagined a little house, a cozy kitchen, a big bedroom, and an even bigger bed, with blue silk sheets, and a night table, with a little vase that held a single rose. No, make it a tulip. A purple tulip.

I imagined coming home to him, after a long day–at the university, let’s say–and he’d be in the kitchen, wearing an apron, and not much else. Maybe slippers. Maybe bunny slippers. And then he’d say, “I’ve got supper ready, honey. You hungry?”

I stopped the daydream right then. Enough is enough. He was really there, standing in our kitchen, talking to me about his garden club. They were planting tulip bulbs.

I put down the shield, and I felt how happy he was at something so simple: planting bulbs.

“You’re a nice guy, Lucas,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said. “Can I have some cake?”

We had some of that chocolate cake Pops bakes, and I dished him up a slice. I wrote in my journal while he ate. It felt companionable to sit like that together. It felt… cozy.


It felt like something I could get used to and even build a life around.

Is it love when you want to be with someone forever?

If so, then maybe…

I won’t write it, for fear it won’t come true.

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