“Little devils” © Edward Michael Supranowicz

 

In His Eyes

He was a shy host at first but offered me a place on the carpeted sunroom floor as there was no furniture in the room. The room was lemon-yellow, appropriate for a southwest-facing sunroom. It had a closet to one side, a clothes rod running the length of it buoying cold-weather outerwear. In one corner of the floor was a short stack of what appeared to be textbooks and notebook paper. To the right of the closet, hanging on a hook, was a JROTC uniform, neatly pressed, bearing a nameplate, honor star, and a Catholic school crest. The room had two outside walls lined with windows and no source of heat that I could see or feel. Brisk as it was, I sat on the carpeted floor, my jacket tossed nearby. He sat across from me, facing each other as small talk stumbled along. He sat very close to me, so close that his breath, sweet as mint, tickled my cheek.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time,” he said.

I looked away, surprised by his frankness, silently flattered and excited. Then I realized he was waiting for me to reach out and receive what he was offering. His eyes were laughing, watching. And then I felt it. The flicker grew steadier inside me. Exploded in me. I was sensing that he, too, shared those same unnamable feelings. I didn’t have to wait to feel joy. Quietly, suddenly. Like a wave swelling in my chest.

Our small talk gave way to more heartfelt words, and a level of coziness began to develop between us just short of intimacy. While we were getting to know one another and moving into conversations of genuine honesty, he confessed that he encouraged his sister to bring me to meet him. He revealed that he would often watch me walking his sister home and watched as I turned to leave. I had just learned the root of that devilish spark in his eyes that I noticed when I first arrived. But then there was something else in his eyes – a gentleness, a knowing – which made me feel somewhat exposed and vulnerable. I would remember, on occasions, having the sense of someone being on to me when I wasn’t ready to admit to myself that they would be right in their presumption. But now I was flattered, hopeful, and excited. He leaned in and gave me a gentle, minty kiss. A kiss from a beautiful older boy! I thought I would lose any sense of coolness I pretended to have. I was a little embarrassed to have been enchanted by him. Our hours spent together that day became the first of many days we would idle away, lying on the sunroom floor, learning of each other’s secrets, and realizing we weren’t alone in this world of ours.

 

Jack Cooper’s work has been published in the Flumes Literary Journal, Weasel Press, Limit Experience Journal, Coffee People Zine, Miracle Monocle, Plentitudes Journal, Prometheus Dreaming, Two Sisters Writing and Publishing, Pride and Presents, Red Noise Collective, Running Wild Press Short Story Anthology, Wingless Dreamers Publication, Wild Sounds Writing Festival, Beyond Words, Beyond Queer Words, and RIZE Short Story Anthology.

Edward Michael Supranowicz is the grandson of Irish and Russian/Ukrainian immigrants. He grew up on a small farm in Appalachia. He has a grad background in painting and printmaking. Some of his artwork has recently or will soon appear in Fish Food, Streetlight, Another Chicago Magazine, The Door Is A Jar, The Phoenix, and The Harvard Advocate. Edward is also a published poet who has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize multiple times.