Enchilada Ed

1.

Ed's eureka moment came in the form of two red balloon-shaped dangle earrings.

He had spent most of English class trying to think of a way to confess his love to Audra. It wasn't entirely pathetic. Miss Larsen had begun a new lesson that day, so she just played slides: nothing that would require much attention. Ed was relieved to be done with Shakespeare. He didn't quite understand the fuss with Shakespeare. Sure, there was some funny bits in the version of Hamlet Miss Larsen showed last Friday after the unit exam, but Kenneth Branagh couldn't make Ed fall in love with it. Shakespeare was all strange interrogatives with meanings that weren't at all obvious. Wherefore was a synonym of why? Whose idea was that? And then there was iambic pentameter- whatever that was meant to be. He knew it had something to do with syllables. He also knew he got that question wrong on the unit exam. The metaphysical poets had to be easier than Shakespeare; poetry was all basically bullshit, how bad could it possibly be?

Even if Ed had been paying attention, he wouldn't have really gathered a whole lot from that morning's lecture anyway, except that John Donne had a pointed brown beard and wore an Elizabethan ruff. It was a good day to allow himself to daydream, if he could choose what times to be overtaken by his fantasies. That's not really the way Ed's mind operated. His brother Mike seemed to be able to channel his dreamy creativity into productivity- at least, ever since he had gotten contracted at that record label in the west end of town- but Ed wasn't even impressively dreamy. Musical talent? Zilch. Artistic ability? Nada. Sure, he was romantic, but in a stifled,good-for-nothing way. Ed could come up with a thousand stupid ideas, and maybe stumble on half-a-good-one. But even then, he wouldn't be able to put it into motion. The balloon plan was the best stupid idea Ed had considered that morning.

Its conception was nothing short of miraculous. Ed had tried to keep his eyes from wandering to Audra, seated in the desk beside him. But as Miss Larsen flipped through seventeenth century oil portraits and cloudy photographs of grassy English churchyards, something red in his right periphery caught his attention. When Ed was sure Audra was engrossed enough in the lecture not to notice him peeking, he snuck a glance at her. Her slender neck, her short black hair, and there, dangling from her left earlobe, a small red balloon.

Of course, balloons.

Ed's eyes fell back onto his desk. Audra liked balloons. Ed remembered her mentioning that on Valentine's Day. The eleventh grade's student council representatives had passed out that year's "Valentine-A-Grams" in the cafeteria. Phil had bought Emily one as a token of his love, for their entire friend group's lunch table to behold. Audra had seemed so impressed by Phil's gesture that Ed half-hated himself for not ordering her one of those silly bouquets of heart-shaped Mylar balloons. At least until Audra added that she preferred the plain-old latex kind. Mylar was too crinkly, she said. At that point, of course, it was too late to get her a decent valentine. Besides, Ed hadn't felt confident enough to make his affection known back then. Not that he was exactly confident now, just two months later, but he had resolved not to let this opportunity escape him. This would be his last chance.  

Ed could buy a tank of helium and inflate a bouquet of latex balloons. He could tie the balloons to Audra's locker, looping the ribbons through those little vents in each locker door. What were those vents for anyway? Did the original locker-designer anticipate that skinny misfits would be shoved into his creation? Were they therefore intended as life-saving ventilation? Ed had never actually seen a misfit shoved into any locker, except in movies. He decided that it was just as likely that the vents were intended as a balloon-ribbon tying apparatus. He could write Prom? and With me? and Ed? on the three front-most balloons. It seemed like a fool-proof plan, initially. But there had to have been something wrong with it. Ed chewed on his lower lip and tried to conjure up any possible doubt.