There is something surreal about having sex. In my case, there were no screams, no moans, just simple gasps, trying to inhale every moment of sweaty passion. I looked down at her and admired her, wrapped up in the humid air that we were exchanging. Her eyes were closed and her hands tried to find a place to rest, but they kept wandering across my chest and over my shoulders. I felt the power surging through my veins, a sensation that kept us clinging on for more. I keep thinking to myself, as she breathed in deeply and slowly, sex is sort of like murder.


     For a long time, I didn’t believe in love. I shuddered at the thought of sex, at the images that came to mind in imagining the sort of things couples did while they're alone. I used to think it was revolting, all the touching, the feeling, the sexual contact that went on. There is no love in sucking a guys dick, there is no love in putting your fingers in a girls vagina. It all seemed pointless to me, something that people only did to say they had, a boast that would eventually turn into a joke, which would be forgotten in time.
     I was sixteen and thinking, is there really any love anymore?
     And then I met Mia.

     It was one of the chillier days of October; the leaves were still clinging to the trees. They had turned from green to red to yellow and now their last days were approaching. I was walking down my street with my dog, Freckles, when we passed by a house that had a moving van in the driveway. It was a new house and I had been watching the progress of it since they began building it. I guess it had never occurred to me that eventually, someone would move in and start a life there. But now as I walked by I saw the family, a mother and father, and a daughter and son, the picture perfect family. I saw them bringing boxes up their front steps, and movers hauling huge pieces of furniture through the garage, and I wondered what they were like. I was so preoccupied with staring that I didn’t notice the girl staring back. When I noticed, I gave a slight smile and continued on my walk.  

     On my way home, I passed by again, and saw that they were still moving things in. I walked up to the father as he was taking a break, swallowing big gulps from his water bottle.

     “Hi,” I said, offering him my hand, “I’m Adam Peterson I live a couple houses up from here.”

     “Oh hey I’m Bill Palmer, but you can call me Bill.” He replied, shaking my hand and smiling a big, enthusiastic smile.

     I hadn’t planned what I was going to say after the introduction. We stood awkwardly smiling at each other for a few seconds. Freckles prancing around between us, barking excitedly, then it came to me.

     “Do you need any help, moving things in or anything?” He looked surprised by this, but accepted my offer graciously.

     “Wow that’d be great, we have about a million boxes and not too many hands to carry them.” He looked around and mumbled something. The girl came out of the front door and when she saw her father talking to me, looked rather puzzled.

     “Mia!” Bill yelled to her. “Come down here I want you to meet someone.” He waved her over and she strolled over cautiously. She was wearing overalls with a white tee shirt on underneath. Her hair was chocolate colored, straight and pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes matched her hair, dark and mysterious. Overall, she looked like a girl, quite simply, a normal girl.

     “This is Adam, he lives up the road, he offered to help us unpack some things, could you just show him where the rooms are so he’ll know where to put the boxes?” he asked.

     She nodded her head and gestured for me to follow her.

     What happened next is something that I cannot explain with just the simple tones and notes that the average human in capable of uttering. No combination of words could do justice to the sound of Mia’s voice. We were walking up the stairs to her front door when she said her first words to me.

     “You can’t bring your dog in the house.”

     I paused for a moment, not comprehending what she was saying, just caught up in the melody of her voice. When I realized what she said, I hurried down the stairs and tied Freckles’ leash to the railing on the stairs. She immediately lied down in the dirt and began to snore. When I got back up the stairs she was waiting with the door open for me. I went in and she showed me around the house, rushing, because it was obvious that she had things to do, and it was inconvenient for her to have to show me around. When she was done, she sent me out to the truck and I began bringing boxes in to the house, placing them in rooms according to the labels on the side. All the while, I replayed her voice in my head.

     I didn’t think much of her until she spoke. All I saw was another girl, probably already in a relationship, if not, looking for one in a guy who would touch her and take advantage of her. It seemed that that was all that girls wanted these days, someone to make them feel like they were beautiful, not by telling them so, but by feeling them in places that made them feel wanted.

     Mia was not like this. How did I know? I didn’t.

     After hearing the sounds that flowed from behind her lips, I felt purity, virginity, and innocence that couldn’t be touched by the most seductive of men, could not be taken by the most powerful rape. She was a lover, an old time romantic who would die before giving herself away.

     By sunset, all the boxes were stacked in their new rooms and furniture lay cluttered all over the house. They ordered a pizza and offered me some, but I had to get home. They thanked me and said jokingly, that I could stop by anytime and help.

     As I walked home, I thought about Mia. I had never had butterflies before, but there’s a first for everything.



     I came back the next day and helped Bill move furniture around the house. He was a really nice guy. He asked how old I was and when I told him I was sixteen he said that Mia was almost the same age, she was fifteen. Ian, his son, was 10 and his wife’s name was Maria. He told me that they had to move to Glenwood because he got transferred. He worked for a car company and they were constantly moving around, he said though, that they were settling down here for good.

     Before I left Mia came out of her room and, looking quite abashed in her pajamas and tee shirt, smiled and hurried into the kitchen.

     Freckles spent the day on her patch of soil, twitching every so often when the wind picked up, enjoying the crisp autumn air.


     I saw Mia waiting for the bus the next morning, and I waved to her as I passed, I considered asking her if she needed a ride, but decided against it, I wasn’t sure if Bill would be okay with her driving with me. I saw her at lunch, but she wasn’t in any of my classes. A girl named Clare Batten was sitting with her. I somehow felt like I should protect her. When I saw a guy pass her, I would glare at him, making sure he wasn’t shooting her any flirty looks. They all just walked by, taking little notice to her sitting there, and I eventually let her be.


     I worked at a restaurant in the village on weeknights. Since I had only worked there for a few months, they wouldn't let me do anything but wash dishes. My boss, Kristy, was probably the biggest bitch in the world. She constantly checked up on me to make sure I’m doing it right. “Clean dishes,” she said, “are the second most important part of running a restaurant.” When I asked what the first is, she replied, “Kitchen doors, if anybody saw how this shit was made, we’d be bankrupt in a week.” I didn’t ask many questions after that. About a week into my employment I found a piece of paper taped above the sink. It read:

        How to wash dishes:
1. Rinse dish with hot water.
2. Soap on sponge.
3. Scrub dish clean with soapy sponge and hot water.
4. Rinse off soap with hot water.
5. Stand back and look at your glistening success!

I read it with disgust. Of course I knew how to wash dishes. I disregarded it, and went about washing. Kristy came over sporadically throughout the night and checked the water temperature, constantly saying “Hotter! Hotter!” I reluctantly turned the warm faucet more and more to the right, and tried to ignore the burning in my hands.


     A week after Mia moved in, Bill called me and invited me and my mom to dinner at their house. Maria was going to cook and it was going to be their first big meal in the new house. I accepted, but my mom had to stay home. She was swamped at work and had a lot to do. She sent me on my way and wished me a good time. When I got there the table was set and everything looked elegant and neat. They were completely moved in except for a couple boxes that hadn’t been unpacked yet. Mia and Ian were lying on the couches watching TV and I stood awkwardly, wondering if I should take a seat myself. Before I could decide Mia turned to me and smiled.

     “You have to see the rest of the house.” She passed the clicker to Ian and got up. She led me around the house, showing me all the things they had done since I was there last.

     “We still have to paint most of the rooms, but we’re gonna take a little break.” She said, complaining that everything was so white. When we got to her room I was surprised to see that all of her boxes were still packed. I asked her why she hadn’t settled in yet and she said she had just been really busy, that she would get around to it. When we got back to the living room there were two more adults in the room, Mia ran to them and hugged both of them, a man and woman.

     “Adam!” It was Bill. He was holding a Budweiser and had his arms open to me; I hugged him and he explained to the newcomers who I was.

     “And this is my brother James!” he said to me, pointing to the man standing in the living room. James stretched out his hand to me and I shook it.

     “This is my wife Betty.” James said, giggling a little at his brother’s behavior. Betty too, extended her hand to me and I took it, she smiled sweetly.

     We sat down to dinner shortly after, and it was the best roast pork I have ever had in my life. We sat around the table talking and laughing and enjoying the company. I felt at home there, and dreaded the clock, forever turning against me, pushing me forward when all I wanted to do was stay right there forever. The night did end, however, and I found myself walking out of their front door into the black night, illuminated only where I stood, by the light above my head. Before I could close the door behind me, Mia ran down the stairs and shoved her shoes on.

     “Let me walk you home.” She said. It was hardly a question, and I don’t think I would have said no even if it was.

     “Put a sweater on first.” I said. She grabbed her sweatshirt from the hooks next to the door and glared at me jokingly. As we walked she talked, I got lost in her voice, and could hardly concentrate on what she was really saying. Finally out of all the music I heard, “…so I thought I’d walk you home so I could see your house, cause you’ve seen mine, so it’s my turn right?” I smiled, but she couldn’t see it.

     “Yeah,” I said, “I guess it is.”

     I unlocked the door to my house and let her in. I gave her a tour and when we got to the kitchen I noticed my mom asleep with her head on the table, notes and books surrounding her and her laptop right in front of her face. I giggled, to let Mia know that I wasn’t embarrassed, and she smiled. I touched my moms shoulder and woke her up.

     “Mom wake up, this is Mia.” She put her head up and wiped her eyes, trying to focus on our faces. She saw Mia, smiled, and said “nice to meet you Mia, I’m sorry I’m not quite awake.” I asked Mia to hold on a minute and brought my mom to her room, kissing her goodnight and setting her alarm for her.

     When I got back to the kitchen Mia was sitting in the chair at the table that my mom had previously occupied. She was flipping through the books and reading some of the notes.

     “What does your mom do?” She asked.

     “She’s a journalist.”  I told her. “And she’s a novelist, but, she’s never had anything published.”

     Mia looked down at the notes again.

     “Not because she can’t,” I said, “just because she doesn’t want to. She says her novels are personal, and that I’m not even allowed to read them until I’m 21. Don’t ask me why.” We laughed. She looked at the clock and realized it was almost 11.

     “Wow, I better get going, my mom will be pissed if I get home too late.” I was going to offer to bring her home but that would have been silly. I saw her to the door and watched her walk down the driveway until the darkness swallowed her up.


     The next day Mia showed up around noon. I was getting dressed to go out and rake the leaves when the doorbell rang. I ran to get it and was surpised to see her peering through the glass. I opened the door.

     “Hey, I was wondering what you were up to. I’m sick of working on the house.” She said. I laughed and invited her in.

     “I was just getting ready to rake the leaves.”

     “I could help if you wanted me to.” She said eagerly.

     “I thought you didn’t want to work.”

     “Well, not on my house, but I’ll work on yours.”

     I smiled and gave her some gloves and led her to the garage. I gave her a rake and we started with the front yard, building a huge pile of leaves right in the center. Freckles ran between us, kicking leaves back in our faces and barking with pleasure. The backyard took longer, and by the time we were done we were completely wiped out. My mom brought us water and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And we layed in the leaf pile for a long time.

     “Have you finished unpacking your room yet?” I asked.

     She signed, “no, I’m afraid to, it seems like if I do, it’ll be official, we’re staying.”

     “Do you not want to?” I said, not quite hurt but disappointed.

     “I do, but, that’s the point. We never stay in one place for more than a year. We keep moving around, building houses and making them our own, and then leaving again. I just want to stay in one place, and be able to call it home.”

     “I thought your dad said that you were settling down here for good.”

     “Yeah, he says that.” I knew what she meant. My dad kept calling and saying he was going to visit, for Christmas, Thanksgiving, my birthday. He never did.

     “Have you ever moved?” she asked.

     “Nope, lived in this house my whole life.”

     “I can sorta tell.” She said. “It’s worn in, and not by someone else. I can tell the difference now, from moving around so much, I can tell when a house is really yours, not just a hand me down.”

     “I don’t know if I like my house anymore though.”

     “Why not?” She asked.

     “Because it’s so empty. My sister moved out, my dad is gone; it’s just me and my mom. This house is too big for just two people. I almost want to move and give it to someone who needs it more.”

     “You have a sister?”

     “Yeah.”

     “What’s her name?”

     “Trisha.”

     “Did she go to college?”

     “Yeah, in New York. She’s a Senior.”

     “Does she still love this house?”

     “Yeah, my dad built it himself, when my mom was pregnant with her. It’s the only thing our family has left. Whenever my dad calls he says “so how’s my house holding up.” I think my mom wants to keep it in hopes that he’ll come back someday.”

     “Do you think he will.”

     “No.”

     “Why not?”

     “Because he doesn’t love us anymore.”

     “Do you really think that’s true?”

     “No.”
     “Then why did you say it.”

     “Because I don’t think he ever loved us, the ‘anymore’ makes me feel a little better.”

     Mia stared at me.

     “Sorry,” I said, “it’s dirty business.”

     She dropped the subject, and threw some leaves at me, laughing, testing my patience. I let her throw them for a few minutes, until I was hallways covered, and then I sprung to life and tackled her to the ground. We rolled off the pile bringing the leaves with us and Freckles joined in.

     “I wanna show you something.” I said.

     I led her into the woods behind my house. In the middle of the woods there was a small shed. When we got there I unlocked the door and let her in. It was a tiny shed, with a futon in the back corner and a desk, some candles. I found the matches and lit the candles. She looked uncomfortable.

     “This isn’t what it looks like.”

     “What does it look like?” She said.

     “The love shack.” She laughed.

     “So if it’s not, what is it?” She asked.

     “My dad used to use this place for storing his tools.” I said, sitting down the futon, “He used to put them in here so he wouldn’t have to lug them all the way out whenever he wanted to work here. When Trish and I were like, 6 and 12, he stopped doing much of anything, so he didn’t use this shed anymore. When our parents were out one day, Trish and I cleaned out the shed and brought in an old mattress we were throwing out, some candles and a table, and set them up. We used it as a getaway for when our parents were fighting. Mom never found out about it because she didn’t come back here, and my dad left shortly after we did it. Every time we found something useful that someone was giving away we would bring it in. We would stay out here for whole nights at a time sometimes, playing cards or just talking. Trish came home one day with a whole futon and her and her boyfriend hauled it in, throwing the old mattress out. After that, I didn’t really come in here anymore. Trish stayed here a lot of nights with her boyfriends, and since my dad had left there wasn’t much reason to come in here. So I didn’t mind. We kept it locked from the outside when we weren’t using it and from the inside when we were. She and I were the only ones who had the key. I kept it around my neck with my dad’s dog tags. My mom never asked what it was for. Trish had it with the keys to her car.” I looked around, “man I haven’t been back here in years.”

     “Then why do you still keep the key around your neck?” She asked.

     “Just in case I ever need it, you never know right? A murderer could be chasin’ me around the woods; I’d have a place to go.”

     She smiled. “So in a way, it is the love shack.”

     “For Trish I guess, not me.” I said.

     “Oh sure, you mean to say you’ve never taken advantage of this with a girl?”

     “Yup.”

     “You’re lying.”

     “Nope.”

     She eyed me suspiciously.

     “I swear. I’ve never even kissed a girl.”

     She seemed shocked.

     “What?” I asked.

     “I don’t know, you just don’t seem like the kind of guy who hasn’t done that kind of thing.” She said, sort of giggling.

     “What, do I seem like a guy who’d take advantage of a girl?”

     “Well, no, I guess not, a little bit, maybe?” She said.

     “I take offense to that.” I said half jokingly.

     “No no, you don’t, I’m just a little surprised, cause you’re, you know, good looking, so I would expect girls to be all over you…are you gay?”
     “No!”

     She laughed. “Then why haven’t you ever kissed a girl, have you gone out with a girl before?”

     “No, I’ve just never liked someone enough to date them, let alone kiss them, or do anything at all with them. I don’t believe in that stuff.”

     “What stuff?”
     “I don’t know, sex, other sexual things, it all seems dumb to me.”

     She looked at me seriously for a second.

     “I see what you’re trying to do.” She said.

     “What?”

     “You’re trying to make it seem like you’re some innocent guy to suck me in and make me like you and then make me do some really nasty stuff.”

     “Do you really think that?”

     “No.”

     “Then why’d you say it?” I asked.

     “I guess it’s just hard to believe a guy when he says that, most of the time all guys care about is sex.”

     “Not me.”

     “I can see that.”

     “In fact, if you wanted to do something with me right now, I’m positive I would reject you.”

     “Even just kiss you?” She asked.

     “Yes.” I said, more seriously than I meant to. She looked disappointed.

     “So is it working?” I said, trying to lighten the mood again.

     “Is what working?”

     “Am I sucking you in?”

     She laughed. “Yeah maybe a little bit.”

     We sat for a long time in the candle light, and when it began to get dark outside and the candle was burning down to it’s wick, I walked her home.



     She mentioned in the next few days that her birthday was coming up, on October 30. We had been hanging out a lot, mostly in the shed. We called it the Love Shack, for lack of better reference, LS for short. We talked about a lot of things. She told me about Clare, who ended up being her best friend. I told her about Eddie, who was my best friend, but I didn’t get to see him much outside of school anymore because he had a girlfriend. We talked about important things, politics, and world news. Or sometimes we belittled ourselves to the intelligence of a 4 year old, trying to see the world as they did. I was starting to think that I was falling in love with her.

     So when she said her birthday was in a week or so, I decided I wanted to do something really special. I went to the hardware store and got another key for the lock to the LS made. I covered the walls in posters and cleaned it out, brought out fresh candles and new blankets and made it look nice. In order to do this though, I had to keep her out of the love shack for the time being. We went to her house more often. Bill and Maria were glad to have me there and often put me to work as soon as I got there, but I didn’t mind. The first time I went there after the big dinner, I walked into Mia’s room, expecting it to be messy and still packed, but to my surprise she had unpacked all of her things. Books sat neatly on shelves, trophies lined the top of the room, pictures hung on the wall. She came in behind me and noticed my astonishment.

     She said, “hey, what can I say, I guess I really wanna stay this time.” She smiled and we watched TV for a while, making fun of the soap operas and complaining about the news. She didn’t suspect a thing.

     On her birthday I asked her to come over. My mom was home, she said she wanted to make us dinner, because Mia’s parents had me there so often, but she had a lot of work today. Mia understood. She seemed to love my mom, no matter what she did. Freckles layed in the corner of the kitchen, observing us. We made pancakes. When she went into the pantry to find the syrup I had already taken it out. I decorated hers with whipped cream and chocolate chips with syrup around the edges. She got a kick out of it. When we were done eating I brought her out to the love shack. She walked in and I think she may have cried. She spent at least a half and hour looking at everything I put on the walls. When she was done she sat down on the futon and looked at me through glassy eyes.

     “Thank you Adam.” She said.

     “There’s one more thing.” I got on my knees and held out a velvet jewelry box. She laughed and opened it. It was the key, hooked onto a chain. She put it around her neck and gave me hug. When she let go, I kissed her on the lips, and she led the way. She still says it was the best birthday of her life. But that’s the way sweet sixteens should be right?

     After that we were inseparable. During the winter I helped her paint her house, and I shoveled their driveway, and mine. Bill tried to pay me, but I wouldn’t let him. We couldn’t use the Love Shack too much because it was too cold, so we went back and forth from each others houses all the time. Winter melted into spring which gave birth to summer and still we bloomed.

     We kissed, and that was the extent of it. I stayed true to my beliefs. One day, in August, she brought it up again.

     “So why is it that you don’t believe in sex and stuff?”

     I was surprised that she would talk about it.

     “Cause that isn’t what love is about.”

     She was lying perpendicular to me on the couch, her head on my crotch.

     “Is this love?” She whispered.

     “Yes.” I said.

     I think she may have wanted to do something, but I did not want to be just another couple. I didn’t want to do things to her, and I didn’t want her to do things to me. That wasn’t love.

     “Don’t you think it’s dumb when couples do that?” I asked.

     “Yeah.” She said. “But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be that way with a guy.”

     “Do you want to be that way with me?” I asked.

     “No,” she said, “I love you too much.”

     “Do you mean that?” I asked.

     She put her head up. “Of course I do.”

     “Just checking.” I said smiling. “If I asked you to suck my dick would you do it?”

     “Nope.” She said.

     “Good.”

     We consider our year anniversary Mia’s birthday, and that was two months ago. We were lying on the futon in the Love Shack. I was on top of her and I was listening to the soundtrack of a loss in the background of my mind, a loss of innocence that we will never be able to reclaim. Her shirt was off and we were kissing, like I had never kissed her before. There is something surreal about having sex. In my case, there are no screams, no moans, just simple gasps, trying to inhale every moment of sweaty passion. I look down at her and admired her wrapped up in the humid air that we were exchanging. I moved in and out of her slowly and softly. Her eyes were closed and her hands tried to find a place to rest, but they kept wandering across my chest and over my shoulders. I felt the power surging through my veins, a sensation that kept us clinging on for more. I thought to myself, as she breathed in deeply and slowly, sex is sort of like murder.


     And that was love at its fullest.


     Last week Mia told me she was pregnant. She brought me out to the Love Shack, which now suited its name much more properly, and she told me, through fits of tears and uneven breathing. She told me that we needed to tell our parents. She said that she would not give up the baby. I agreed. I already had a plan. So we would all get what we wanted.



     So now I am laying next to Mia on the futon. It is freezing, due to the season, winter is frozen around the shed yet this is the only place we can hide. We are discussing how we should tell our parents.

     I ask her, “do you still love me?”

     “Of course I do.”

     “Do you promise?” I am taking a gun out from under the pillow.

     “I promise.” I got it from Eddie’s house, his dad hides it in his closet.

     “I love you too.”  It is out, and it is pointing at her head but she can’t see it because it is dark. I pull the trigger. The sound makes my ears go numb. Killing her is like making love all over again. She breaths deeply and slowly until she does not breath anymore. Sex is like murder. I take the bucket of hot water and a sponge out from under the futon. I rinse the blood off of her face with the warm water. Just like washing the dishes. I scrub the blood off of the walls and rinse the walls. I stand back and look at my glistening success. I lock the door from the inside and put the desk against it. I blow out the candles and lay down next to Mia. When they come looking for us in here, they will see the words “RIP Adam and Mia” on the door, and we will be frozen, because it will take months. It will take until Mom thinks to all Trish and ask her where I might be hiding. She will tell her about the shed, but we will be long gone. It will be too late, and that's the idea.


     I put one hand on Mia's stomach and hold the gun to my head with the other. I shoot, and everything is perfect. Mia died loving me, and I died loving her. And so we will remain in love for eternity. No, I’ll never lose her.


     I remember the last thing going through my mind was our last Thanksgiving. I remember sitting around the table with Mia's family. My mom was there too. I remember Mia standing up and proposing a toast. She said:

    "I give thanks to god, for sending me my angel."
    I am her angel.