The Eddie Munson Tape Dates

Dio, 'Holy Diver'

You rip another piece of paper from your notebook, screw it up and throw it in the waste paper basket next to your desk.

Eddie looks up at you from his side of the dual desk set-up in your room, "You need some help, babe? Is it the poetry assignment?"

You nod and start tapping the end of your pencil against your forehead again, glaring at the fresh blank piece of lined paper.

You peer over on Eddie's side of the desk. He has at least four different poems written out. He covers them over with his arm and shoos you away. You sigh and fall back in your chair, slumping down in it.

Why was it so difficult? You just needed to write a poem. It wasn't even a specific theme. It could be anything, any style. So, you think to yourself, that is probably part of the problem. The assignment was too vague.

Eddie is still scribbling away opposite you. You peer over again, "Is that number five?" You say jealously.

"You know, you can have one of mine if you like?" He raises his eyebrows at you from under his curls, his mouth turning up into a smile because he already knows your answer. After all, it's always the same when it comes to homework.

"I can't do that, Eddie. I'll know it's not my work, and so will they!" You complain as you throw your notepad and pencil into the bin.

"It can't be that bad, babe. We listen to music all the time. It's just like lyrics, you know. A story that rhymes." Eddie reaches into the bin retrieving your notepad, pencil and one of the screwed-up pieces of paper.

He unravels the paper ball to read its contents. It has a list of scribbled-out words, most describing things around you in your room. Book. Pen. Window. Paper. Finally, Eddie's name in tiny bubble lettering, with a heart dotting the 'i'.

You look at him, hopefully.

"Well", he starts, "It looks to me like you've hit a wall. Your inspiration is lost. Maybe you could write something about me? You always write me such nice things in those origami dragons, babe." He encourages

"Are you actually losing your mind? You want me to write something about you, for school?? No, babe. That's... well... it's private." As quickly as you reject his answer, you start contemplating it just so you might have something written. It's not like you didn't have a notebook half full of it already, anyway. You wait a few seconds before pretending to look for something, when really you were checking that the Eddie notebook was still in the secret drawer compartment, along with its other personal things and Eddie memorabilia.

"Maybe do a bit of other work and come back to it", Eddie suggests kindly with an encouraging smile as you snap the drawer shut.

You resist the unconstructive urge to let him know you've already done that...three times already...you just nod and start searching the room and out the window for inspiration, which is currently manifesting as a very bland list of nouns on your paper, until Eddie finishes his own homework.

It was tough to harbour any resentment towards him when he was doing so well. Your own parents and Wayne had obviously observed that you and Eddie were virtually inseparable but had set one rule. They would not intervene or complain about who stayed where or how much time you spent together, as long as grades didn't slip. What they hadn't anticipated was grades actually improving.

Eddie often attributed his scholarly improvements to this rule and your encouragement. Maybe in the beginning, yes, but now? This was all Eddie. He was, as you had suspected all along, extremely bright. He was pushing to the top of his class subjects in which he was just getting by. The ones he was failing, he was averaging. The praise from these successes only fueled Eddie's motivation. He was well on his way to graduating, and it was all his own hard work.