OOC: This is a romance story I'm working on ... there are still parts of it left unfinished, esp. during the flash-back, so don't be alarmed when it cuts suddenly to present day. I'll finish it accordingly. Please review and give me insight into your feelings about it. Cheers.
Sitting around the kitchen table, its lacquered wooden surface hidden by a thin maroon tablecloth and littered with cardboard Beer-emblem drink coasters, four friends raise their mugs in celebration. Stories and laughter fill the air from the decade-old friends, at last pulled back together, if only for a night; their cheers in commemoration at the long overdue reunion. Tonight is their night – captured by the return of old friendships and rekindling of cherished memories. Good times abound for all.
“Cheers folks, it’s been far too long since I’ve laid my eyes on all of you sorry-looking sobs! Let alone in the same room! Who’d of thought this ever possible?” chimes Terry, slamming his half-empty glass on the sturdy tabletop; his boisterous voice carrying with it a hint of longing for past glories.
“Always the charmer, isn’t that what I always tell you, Terry? Always the charmer…” Beth’s rose-painted lips and bronze-tan cheeks peel backward, the flesh pulling taut against her face’s soft, ‘Girl-next-door’ contours, as she lets loose an intense cackle – cynical and dry. Soon after her laughter subsides, Terry is quick to flick a couple of peanut shells her way, missing completely with every attempt.
“Hey quit it!” commands Beth, her voice turning shrill in annoyance.
“Damn Terry, how did you ever make it onto the baseball team each year?” Interrupting their little feud, I find myself for the first time in what could have been an hour, saying something. “Err … what I mean is, if you two want to play children’s games, lets at least play a fun one. I know these two will be up for it. But what do you say Simone?” Looking up from her cell phone, slightly dumbstruck, she glances around the table, issuing a brief apology for the digital distraction and quickly cupping her hands together, it flips closed.
“Well, well! Look who’s alive again – surprise, surprise – you’ve always been such a lightweight, Bryan. Where were you now? Out in space, or just trying not to puke this time?” Terry chides, but my attention is focused elsewhere – on Simone, awaiting her reply. ‘Shut it, T,’ rebukes Beth in my stead; and like reliable age-old clockwork, speedier than ever before, her right-hand flings about, backhanding Terry’s shoulder for the lousy comment. “Hey, hey shit – that hurts! Alright I’m sorry, you know I’m just kidding right, bro?”
I nod to accept his apology, my eyes still entwined with Simone’s – “So what do you say, Simone?” Leaning into the back of the readymade wooden Ikea chair, my bodyweight carrying enough momentum to pull the front legs off the ground, forcing me into a temporary balancing act until the chair’s backside came to rest upon the opposing cabinetry. A bit of timid laughter escapes her otherwise pursed lips; an answer is inevitable now – we are all looking at her. “Well, what’s the game?” she finally blurts.
“Truth or Dare – a fun one, promise” I coax.
“Ahhh – c’mon then, lets just get it started, ya’know she’ll join in once we start!” quips Beth; turning in her seat, she now looks directly at me – so I shift focus. “I get to start!” she instructs eagerly and then takes several more mouthfuls from her glass. “Guinness, yuck! How can you drink that stuff?” Both Terry and I pretend to gag as she finishes her sixth pint.
“Real easy, you see boys, I just swallow.” Beth cuts the explanation short, her face’s expression immediately engulfed in a Homer Simpson-esque ‘Doh!’ moment at realizing what she had just said. Moreover, before she could even begin to regret her wording let alone correct herself, Terry and I break into an uncontrollable cacophony of childish laughter. “Enough!” Beth roars a few moments later and then again a few moments after that – only after the third time de we finally start to calm ourselves down, just as the colour in Beth’s visage begins to redden.
For hours we trade light-hearted questions and silly dares, each of us taking turns in the driver’s seat, probing one-another to see what has happened in their life since our last encounter many years ago. The game is certainly an unexpected delight, granting us the freedom to explore and fill-in the blank chapters of each other’s life. With each turn of the question and answer, it slowly but surely made it feel as though we had never parted ways – never spent numerous years in sparse contact. Fits of cheer and laughter betwixt the occasional joyful tear compose our emotional gamut. Tonight and if only for tonight, all of us feel secure enough to wear our hearts on our sleeves – and it’s a great feeling.
With twilight approaching the game does not relevant. Minds at ease, self-conscious liberated by the liquid courage of heavy intoxication, our faces an assortment of smiles; some like Terry’s are as wide as a baboon’s. Beth’s and Simone’s still display the reserved feminine quality. Mine on the other hand is a massive half-moon running from ear-to-ear. Eventually the choice returns to me and without hesitation, I choose Beth’s truth.
“Bryan, truth or dare?”
“Truth,” I reply.
Beth sits silently for a moment, pondering the possible questions as she rubs her chin. “Ah-ha! I got it - Where did you meet your first love?”
* * * * * *
I remember that day well, for it was as cold an autumn morning as Mother Nature had conjured in my short tenure on this earth. Erupting in dissonance, the school bell broke the outdoor chatter of a few hundred loitering students; ushering the throngs in relative silence through the navy-tinged steel doors. It was during this daily routine that I had performed hundreds of times that I first noticed her – walking in the line toward the door on my left, about half-a-dozen students ahead. I am not quite sure how I got such a good look at her with all the shuffling of bodies and swaying backpacks, but I got enough of one to be instantly mesmerized. It was at that moment, whilst trudging solitarily toward the centre-door’s threshold, I told myself I must discover who she is.
First period droned on into second; lunch-hour passed without as much as a notice. I was elsewhere. The rest of the school day, I spent in a world all to myself – my thoughts consumed by the fleeting glance I had of the mysterious beauty. I had to find her, but where should I start? I did not even know her name; let alone grade or circle of friends! I felt so hopelessly in passion, yet at the same time, I couldn’t help but hear the Man’s voice inside the back of my head saying – ‘It’s just a girl. Get over it.’
Solemnly walking through the hallways, strolling past a blur of lockers depending from the whitewashed brick, head hung low in deep contemplation. Underfoot the black and white checker laminate flooring slipped past; my path adjusting according only to the passing of bodies and opened locker-doors. What was I to do?
Distraught as ever before in my young life I remember venturing into the sanctuary of the school’s cafeteria. Nobody hung out in the cafeteria during class. This was the one place where I knew I could hide away from my teachers, classmates and friends; someplace where I could take solace and decipher my thoughts. As I pushed on the door’s leaver, hearing the lone mechanical click of releasing locks which allowed it to slide open, granting me entrance. Meandering down the aisles of empty custom-coloured green picnic-tables, their benches bowing out from either side, I found one suited to my taste in the far-east corner. Heavily shaded from the bluish hue of the plethora of overhead lighting by a low-hung school-team’s banner which read – The Hurricanes, Provincial Champions 2003 – was an underused table due to its darkened predisposition. The spot was definitely prime real estate for those such as me in need of solitude.
Sitting lengthwise at the table, eyes closed, head resting upon the cafeteria’s cold brick carapace, with legs pulled tightly to my chest, arms entangled around my shins; shoes tapping lightly upon the bench’s wooden surface. I felt so lost. All of this over someone I did not even know – how could this be so? With a shrug of tensed shoulders and shake of my frustrated head, I demanded myself to release the thought, to stop being foolishly love-struck, to get over it then and there. It had almost worked too.
But just as I began to think of something different, trying to envision anything else – I think it was a new Porsche sport’s car – another click of the door’s mechanical lock resounded through the desolate lunchroom and broke my concentration. Looking up from my reclusive niche, eyes releasing their seal to survey the unwelcome newcomers. I had hoped they would not be my teacher or friends coming to find me – but to my dismay and good fortune – the single person emerging through the door certainly was not any current friend of mine. It was her.
My heart fluttered, mouth dropped, hands rose and wiped my eyes in disbelief. This could not be true – most assuredly was not to be happening – why was I to be toyed with in such a cruel manner? What by-product of Karmic Rule had deemed this a suitable consequence for my past mistakes? Yet therein lied my curse’s duality, as much as I longed to delete her from my mind, a tenfold yearning to know her grew – strangling my conscious. Petrified as though a deer caught in a careening car’s headlights, I stayed locked in the shadowy recesses – my eyes could not turn away – transfixed upon my heart’s usurper.
She moved gracefully down the farthest aisle from me, walking toward a table near the large two-door entrance of the kitchen – I guess she enjoyed the smell of deep-fried foods as much as I did. By God, she was the most beautiful lady I had ever set my sights upon! Her visage a portrait of the rarest type of beauty – natural – delicately curved cheek and jawbones covered with skin so soft that an Angel must have graced her personage. Silken blonde hair fell down past her shoulders, swaying to the rhythm of her footfalls; from this distance, she seemed all too surreal.
I sat in quiet study of my new-found desire, enthralled by her presence. When she sat alone, I longed to walk up and introduce myself. But I could not muster the courage to take the first step, let alone find the words to express myself. So dejectedly I sat, disappointed in myself for lack of bravery yet also secure in the decision to avoid contact – at least just yet. After a few minutes, I could no longer bear the sight of her – it drove me wild – so hastily I left the cafeteria, skipped the remainder of class, forgetting my backpack and homework and went home.
Opening the screen-door to my mother’s house, our dog Gizmo barked; his typical alarm-bell alerting the household to another’s presence. With a silencing “Shut it,” I managed to quell the pipsqueak’s herald and moved past the doorway. As I passed the living room, my sickly mother looked up from the couch, asking me why I had returned so early. “Just not feeling good,” I muttered and with little trouble managed the excuse, allowing me to bypass further questioning. Descending the carpeted staircase to my room, I glanced at my decrepit grandmother, also couch-ridden – she did not appear to notice me, so silently I made way to the basement, closing the thin wooden door behind. Here there was no sunlight, only the artificial luminescence offered from a solitary 60-watt light bulb. I felt isolated, secure and alone for the first time since I left the safe-haven that was my room hours ago.
Throwing myself onto the flower-decorated couch, my body took rest upon the well-used cushions; how I languished to hear her voice, to know her name. With both hands I pulled the fleece cover overhead, allowing myself to be enshrouded in a darkness paralleling that which distressed my thoughts. Our Father who art in Heaven … is the last thing I remember of that day.
The next day, I ventured to school with a sense of trepidation. As much as I wanted to simply forego the feelings that had overwhelmed me for the last 24 hours, I could not manage to elude them for long. Matter-of-fact, whilst strolling by my lonesome down the asphalt pathway that led from the myriad of side-streets to the school yard, the first person I saw when I turned the corner past the chain-linked fence was her! Never before had I noticed that she took the same route; walking the same lonely path that I routinely took. Again my heart skipped a beat and sought to retreat, into the shell that had become my personal Hell, but steadfast I stood. I would not flee, for whatever today brought, I was determined to face it.
Whilst engaging in the routine activities that constituted an ordinary school day, I found myself once again lost in thought. I just could not get her off my mind. My teachers and their lessons went completely unheeded, save the occasional glance at the chalk board; socializing with friends became more of an exercise in reiteration than open communication. Ever the thespian, I managed to mask my turmoil in an ever-present smile; a well-used façade from my troubled childhood – one I longed to never recall into duty – yet for these circumstances it proved an indispensable ‘gift’.
Each time I glanced at the white-faced, black-numbered clock depending above the classroom’s doorway, it felt as though time had no meaning but to extend my uncertainty and torment. I remember all I wanted to do at that point was to get up, leave class and meander through the hallways. Decidedly so with the teacher’s reply to my raised hand and given a satisfactory excuse, I was granted permission to the bathroom; a temporary reprieve from the drudgery of World History.
There were few students lingering in the halls, and the majority that were, were seniors with a spare period; an odd class-skipper littered the mix, but they were more focused on not being caught then enjoying their hour of freedom. I slowly managed my way down the bleak corridors, shoulders hunched forward, head downcast; turning left here, right there, until I ventured into the heavily-scented bathroom and begun to plan out the rest of my day’s escape.
Thankfully it was empty. Marching in front the string of automated urinals, their infrared sensors each marked my passing with a release of water as I moved toward the back-row of stalls, choosing the farthest for my transitory haven. Locking the door and resting myself upon the toilet seat’s opaque cover, my lips parted, venting the troubles of my heart with a long lone sigh. It was shortly thereafter I came to realize that this certainly was not the ideal place to sit for a quiet moment’s reflection. The unpleasant smell of all things associated with a lavatory assailed my nostrils; urine, bodily gases and worse mingled with the scent of carbolic soap permeating in the air. It was enough to make anyone gag, and promptly forced me to rethink where I could adjourn for the remainder of the day.
Pondering the possible retreats, I could not fathom more than a handful; the most practical begin at home, but that would only raise more questions from already overly concerned family members. Another idea was the soccer field’s outlying forest. With its leaf-less trees and thick underbrush – at least its atmosphere would match that of my own mentality – drab, dreary and listless. But on second thought, it became another unsuitable location due to the weather – improperly dressed; it was far too cold for me to withstand the bone-chilling winds and sporadic rainfall that the weatherman had forecasted correctly. So where was there left to go?
I had hoped to avoid the cafeteria altogether, but my options were running few and far between. I could not endure sitting in the washroom for much longer than a couple more minutes, let alone for over two hours! If only I had of thought ahead and brought a nose-plug then none of this would have been problematic. Foolish, foolish me, I remember reprimanding myself with at the time. So to the cafeteria it was – I would return to the darkened niche of yesterday and hoped for that chance to catch-up with my thoughts.
With caution I took to the halls, careful to elude anyone whom might blow my cover. En route, I stopped to look at the trophy case, half-heartedly glancing at numerous statues of athletic men and women forever posed in metallic triumph. How I longed to be like the bronze they were made of – inanimate and frozen without emotion. But this could never be, so with a bit of convincing I dismissed the thought as wishful thinking and moved on. Entering the cafeteria, I strolled down the aisles with little to no notice of my surroundings; it appeared empty at first glance. Boy was I wrong.
Suddenly a voice filled the otherwise dead air, its blithe tone infiltrating my ears; “Hey stranger.” Stopped dead in my tracks, I dared not look. That voice, although I had never heard it before in my life, became instantly recognizable – it belonged to her. “I said, hey stranger,” she repeated; “not going to turn and face me?” Panic-stricken, thick beads of sweat pooled upon my brow, not knowing how to respond, I slowly turned around to face her. There she sat at the same table as before, how could I not have noticed her?
“Err … hello,” my voice quivered.
She was smiling at me and it melted my heart. “I saw you sitting alone the other day. You didn’t look like you were up for some company, so I let you be. How about today – up for some?” Talk about a whirlwind! Was she for real? She noticed me? I must have been taking my sweet time to respond, because before I could issue a reply, she carried on. “Well, are you going to sit down or aren’t you?”
For a few more drawn-out moments, I stood dumbfounded; trying to rationalize what had just taken place. This proved nothing more than an exercise in futility, for the life of me I could not gather how all of this had come about. So instead of continuing to stand there like the statues in the trophy case, I slid onto the opposing bench and casually rested my elbows upon the table.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Uh … Bryan, what’s yours?”
“Simone – it’s a pleasure to meet you!” Her voice sounded so sincere it would have swept me off my feet had I not been sitting.
“Likewise,” I said timidly; “So you saw me the other day, you say? That’s odd.”
“Why do you say that? You and I were the only people in the caf. Who else was I supposed to notice? The lunch-ladies? C’mon now, I mean, I look their food as much as the next person, but with the uniforms they wear, they aren’t exactly my cup of tea!” She jested, a smile creeping from the lips and across her exquisite cheeks.
“Oh yeah… I forgot about that. I was sort of preoccupied, ya’know? Always things to think about.”
“So what were you thinking about – if you don’t mind my asking?”
Now that question I certainly was not prepared to answer truthfully. So with the few remaining wits I had left in my head came this excuse;
“Exams.”
She glanced at me quizzically, as though sizing me up with relation to my answer. “They aren’t for a few more months.”
“Oh … I know … just a worry-wart sometimes,” I hastily retorted, trying to sate her curiosity.
“Fair enough, fair enough. So tell me, Mr. Bryan – what brings you to this place today then? Exams again?”
Damn she was quick with her questions, too quick. “Uh … just needed to get out of class for a bit – some fresh air.”
“Me too,” she replied; “But the caf doesn’t do it for me – even though it’s raining want to go for a walk?” Was she kidding me? Go for a walk? Hell yes! As eager as I was to pounce upon the proposal, I managed to keep my cool and answered with a simple nod.
Exiting the school we kept a low profile to avoid any staff that frequented the smoking section, making our way across the jam-packed parking lot and to the nearby church. It was deserted at this time of day. It felt as though we were making some great escape, and for the first time I had a partner in crime which made the adventure all the sweeter. I was too nervous to say much, my tongue tied in knots; I hated it too, I did not want to give her the wrong impression. I really wanted to talk but everything I thought about seemed stupid or silly, I could not decide what to discuss or it simply just would not come out! But soon enough the decision was taken from my hands – she plunged in and sparked the initial conversation – what a relief!
“So quiet one, where do you live?” she said.
“Over there,” pausing for a moment I pointed westward; “In the Kwartha Heights area. It’s a nice neighbourhood. What about you?”
“Really?”
“Yeah – why?”
“Me too! I’ve never seen you out and about – what street do you live on?”
“Treetop, 1567 – you?”
“Wow, really close – Cherry Hill, 1659. That’s cool, well at least we don’t have to be strangers anymore!”
“Heh, yeah – make sure to say hi if you see me.”
“Promise if you do,” she replied.
“Err … deal,” I agreed.
She beamed a smile at me and timidly I gave one back. Stopping at the church’s doorstep, with the wind howling fiercely at our backs and raindrops spilling over the eaves-trough and crashing upon your heads, we looked desperately for a spot to take shelter from the harsh elements. Finding a dry niche suitable to our needs near the corner wall. Huddling together we sat with our backs to the red brick, safe from the drizzle and cold unrelenting tempest.
We conversed for hours talking as though age-old friends whom were comfortable unveiling the intimacies of our lives. Liberated of insecurity’s cumbersome mantle, which so often restricts communication from developing into the deep and meaningful, I was able to delve as far into her heart and mind as she was mine.
“It’s been a trying few months. When she passed away, I didn’t know exactly what to do or how to cope. I sat by my lonesome for a long while, sort of like how you were yesterday. I wished; wished so much that I could’ve redone our last conversation, to be able to say how I really felt and how much she meant to me…” Her words were anguished and unexplainably I wished never to hear that tone in her voice again for it greatly pained my heart. My hands fidgeted around in my pockets, toying with a stray coin as she spoke; as uncomfortable as the subject matter was for both of us, I knew that it was important to have a medium for release.
“It seems like it, that must be hard to deal with. Death is always painful – I’ve had its sour taste in my mouth recently too,” sighing I replied; “My best friend…” pausing in an effort to maintain my composure but it was too late; tears begun slinking down my rosy cheeks.
Immediately I looked away, head poised downward, eyes closing in an attempt to quell the salty discharge; but it would not cease. I was so embarrassed! At that moment I wanted nothing more than to flee, yet somehow I was frozen to the spot. During this moment of vulnerability, an immense fear of Simone’s judgement crept in, but I soon found out that I had nothing to fear.
Her hand touched my face, fingers gently wiping away the tears as she pushed my head back to eye-level. The look on her face was not that of disinterest, disgust or disappointment. On the contrary, it was of genuine concern. She did not speak nor did she need to – everything that could be said was already being stated with action. The simple stroke of her warm hands against my cold cheeks more than I had prepared for, and although the hurt inside did not evaporate, through this act of compassion it certainly diminished to the point where my tears ceased and an awkward smile gradually returned to my lips.
“It’s all right, you don’t need to hide. You can show yourself to me,” she said in earnest; hands cupping my face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t –”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry about,” adamantly she interjected.
“But I am, I –”
“No! There’s no need, don’t even try to say it!”
“Err … okay. Sorry – ugh! I mean – thanks.” I reply.
“Around me, you just need to be yourself, whatever that entails. If you can’t be you, then who are you? There’s no need to posture. Ok?”
Taken aback I did not know exactly how to respond, her personality was certainly unlike anyone I had ever met and that enthralled me, everything else about her was merely icing to the proverbial cake. Still a bit tongue-tied I replied, “Good deal. I’m not quite sure I get you, but it sounds comforting. But you’ve got to promise me the same – deal?”
“Deal,” she replied; “So plans?”
“Plans – what plans?”
“To do, silly – what’ca want to do?”
“Err, you mean now?” I responded, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
“Yes I mean now! What else did you think I was talking about? Tomorrow? That’s an entire day away!”
“I suppose you’re right, I suppose you’re right. Well, I dunno … The weather’s still crumby out,” passing my hand out from the safety niche’s covering, the rain poured fiercely upon it; “Perhaps we should just sit tight for a bit, wait and see if this clears.”
“Nonsense! We’ve sat here long enough, it’s time to explore. You decide!”
Damn – she had caught me on one of my worst attributes: decision-making. After several minutes of thought and a few gouges to my ribs from my new-found friend’s index finger, I spoke up; “The mall? There’s a sale that ends today, and I need to get a new pair of pants.”
* * * * * *
As the days turned into weeks and then into months, our friendship grew in leaps and bounds; there appeared to be no limitation on what we could discuss or share in. Although at that junction in my life, my emotions were still in their infancy, I felt immensely for her. When I looked into her eyes, they pierced my soul; like crystal-clear panes of glass, I could through them and into her deepest aspects. I understood who she was, why she acted with her own uniqueness; why she was afraid and at times, empty. And so could see all those things in me too.
We must have spent the entire semester together, enjoying each other’s company as though there was nobody else around. Our little trips to the mall or movie theatre, even simply out to eat became moments forever ingrained within my memory; each adventure however seemingly mundane brought about an immeasurable sense of happiness and contentment to my oft troubled heart. Even though I still kept parts of myself locked away under thick layers of insecurity and self-doubt, around her I grew in safety, in comfort and gradually like peeling away the rotten layers of an onion, I unfurled my secrets, my fears and pains.
Then one day everything suddenly changed. She had called me to meet up with her at the park, it was a Sunday, so nothing but the tone of her voice seemed out of the ordinary. She sounded distant, withdrawn, definitely not her usual self. I was a bit spooked, to tell you the truth, but nevertheless, I was excited as ever to go and spend the afternoon with her. I got ready quickly, it was still autumn, and so I dressed light. I ran off toward the park a couple minutes after hanging up the phone; I knew she would already be there and I did not want to keep her waiting long.
Arriving at the local elementary school, its playground empty, and the baseball diamond too; so I marched toward the underused swing-sets, I knew I would find her there. Trotting up the grassy knoll and past the jungle-gym, I saw her sitting on one of the swing-set’s seats, rocking back and forth slowly without much energy. This was very uncharacteristic of her; I knew something must have been very wrong.
Approaching her, she did not seem to notice me, her head fixated upon the sand bed that lay underfoot. I shouted from afar, “Heya cutie! What’s up?” No response came, even her head failed to rise to greet me with a smile; something very troubling was brooding within her. My pace slowed trepidation for what loomed ahead clutching at my innards and making me feel a nervous sickness.
When I finally reached her, I took the seat next to her. She still would not look up to face me. What was up? I was very anxious to hear her dilemma and help her through it, but something about this particular situation alarmed me – it told me that things between us were about to change. If only I could have prepared myself for how drastic the change would be.
As we swung back and forth, the lazy wind provided little in the way of encouragement; I continued to look at her. Finally she spoke, her voice softer than ever, her words coming uneasily to fruition; “My … my parents just told me … something …” She paused trying to maintain what little resolve she had left.
“What’s up? What do you mean? What did they tell you?” I fired quickly in reply.
For another few moments she was silent, until finally it must have been too much to bear and so she simply blurted it out like a bad taste from her mouth; “We’re moving! We have to move! My dad got a new job, we have to move – I have to move!”
My swing stopped rocking. I could not believe what I had just heard, nor did I want to try and believe it. In fact, I wanted to yell at her, to tell her how cruel a joke that was and to never try a prank like that again; but I knew she was being truthful, all too truthful. As she looked up to face me, her face was covered in tears and soon mine was too. All the words of encouragement I had thought of on the way to the park simply vanished from my thoughts, all the courage and willingness to show her support dissipated faster than an ice cube in boiling water; I was left in as worse emotional upheaval as she.
The lone whisper of the wind passing across the field and gently nudging the empty seats of the swing-set overtook all as we sat silent for many minutes. Neither of us dared look at the other, it was far too painful; tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes were all there was to see and that alone was too powerful a sight. So we sat as slaves to our emotions, entrapped within the all-too-powerful embrace of sudden loss. I tried to think of something funny to cajole a sense of happiness to my thoughts, perhaps even share to lighten the mood, but only the maven of loss with all of her disparaging comments loitered within my head.
“I … I don’t care!” finally I blurted out; “I won’t let you go!” I was nearly yelling at this point, but managed to adjust my tone as not to discourage her from talking back.
“I can’t help it … I begged them not to move, I begged them!” She screamed back at me; her face flooded with a combination of sadness and anger.
“This can’t be happening, can’t be,” I muttered, slipping from the swing and pacing around aimlessly. My head shook in disbelief as if trying to wake myself from some abhorring dream, but no matter how hard or fast I shook, the reality of the situation would not lift to unveil itself as a common nightmare. No, this was the cold truth and I could not escape it.
“Why do you have to move? Where is your dad’s new job? What the hell is going on?” I stammered, walking past her.
“Somewhere overseas, I don’t know! They just told me today, an hour ago! You’re the first person I’ve told!” She cried back, sitting motionless on the swing’s seat; white-knuckled hands wrapped tightly around the suspending chain-links.
“Refuse! Tell them no, you won’t go!” I pleaded with her.
“I’ve tried! I’ve tried it all already! I’ve screamed, I’ve fought, I’ve cried, they won’t budge! We’re moving within two weeks!” She was still screaming, each word assailing me with a deeper sense of loss than I had ever felt before. She jumped from the swing-set and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, pulling tightly to my chest as she cried vehemently.
Wrapping my arms around her, squeezing as though it was life-or-death, we stood entwined within each other’s embrace and shed countless tears. Nothing could save us and we both knew it – that hurt worst of all. Our bodies shook as we sobbed, faces resting against each other; my lips mouthing words that until that point I was too afraid to say. But now was the time, for in that moment, I knew that there probably never would be another chance to expose my soul to her.
I pushed her away slightly, just enough so that she could see my face in full view. I had managed to calm myself enough to speak coherently, to show that what I was about to tell her was not simply some spasmodic rhetoric or simply out of the threat of imminent separation but genuine sentiment.
“Simone … Simone … my Simone … I’ve tried so hard to figure all this out between you and me; to grasp what the hell all these feelings are about. I’ve struggled with it and I thought I knew what it’s all about, but just now have I come to realize everything … everything you mean to me.” A second’s hesitation crept into my head and bid me caution for what I was about to expose; perhaps it would be too much for her to hear right now; or perhaps she would not want to hear it at all? But for my peace-of-mind and in the necessary pursuit of being truthful to my heart, I urged myself on.
“I … I don’t really know how to put this … I don’t think there’s any certain way even though this certainly isn’t the situation I want to be telling it to you in, but now I must – my hand and heart have been forced,” Pausing for another second I looked into her eyes, past their pained and confused look and watery surface; I looked into the place that stored the precious Simone that I had discovered many months ago when during our first conversation and in my bout of tears she chose to reveal herself. Once I had found her, I was no longer hesitant to finish what I had to say; “I have fallen for you. I love you. I LOVE YOU,” my voice escalated as the words came off my lips to the point where I was shouting – to say the words freed but also completely overwhelmed me and I could do nothing more than simply keep repeating them.
My tears has resumed in full force and Simone whom was being held at arm’s length shook violently as she cried. It was too much for her. It was too much for me too. I released my grip on her and fell to my knees; I could feel the moist grass as it soaked through my corduroy pants. I pounded the ground trying to vent my frustration, to override my sorrow with the temporary curate of physical pain, but that was soon halted as Simone grabbed at my hands, forcing them to a halt. She too was kneeling and within a hair’s length from my face.
“Don’t you ever do that, you hear me? You better don’t do that again!” She demanded her tears decreasing in volume as her anger for my actions rose.
My arms did not fight her restrictive embrace, instead it felt comforting to feel her touch. Still crying immensely, I was perhaps more prone to tears than she, yet a tear was a tear and shed for the same purpose carried equal weight – no matter how many may or may not follow. My fingers motioned against the ridge of her thumbs, caressing the soft skin, as my mouth continued to mutter ‘I love you.’ I never expected her to say it back, nor did I want to force it by saying it to her, so in all honesty, I cannot remember what exactly she said in reply, but the look on her face is all I needed to know how she felt. She was my Simone – regardless of who else might try and take her, to know and to love her – she would always be mine beyond anyone else’s.
I pulled my arms back and she followed, relinquishing her grasp enough for me to wrap mine around her back, squeezing her tightly. Her chin rested upon my shoulder, and I rested mine upon the side of head. Our tears refreshed, pouring down my face and across her cheek; hers down my neck and onto my Polo shirt. There was nothing left to say. There was only feeling, the feeling forever shared between us.
* * * * * *
“Bryan? Bryan? You alive?”
Shaking my head and looking toward Beth and company and realizing I had been silent for far too long, I promptly thought of an answer to her question. “I met her at a friend’s party, several years ago. Her name was Cassidy,” I finally reply, hiding the truth behind a masterful guise and earnest voice. All but Simone are satisfied with the long overdue answer. She knows better.
As the night turns to dawn and its illustrious rays shine upon the resting half of the world, our quartet feels its energy being sapped. “I think it’s time to get heading back to the hotel,” I stammer drunkenly. Nobody has the strength to argue. We have had a truly memorable night and there is nothing more to accomplish from prolonging some much needed rest. Everyone agrees, too exhausted to fight their own desire for sleep.
At the door, we share loving embraces and kisses on the cheeks. After issuing our meaningful farewells and earnest promises to keep in contact, Beth and Terry wave one final time before closing the door. Simone and I turn from the doorstep and begin to walk down the cobbled pathway down to the street. A comfortable silence lingers in the air but it is soon broken by a question from Simone; it was one that I knew was coming, ever since I answered Beth’s query.
“You never told me about a Cassidy,” she states plainly, not bothering to look at me as we walk down the deserted street passing several parked cars.
Taking my time to find the proper wording, knowing that this conversation will lead to further question; I continue to walk alongside her, hands tucked into my coat’s pockets; “Well, there was never a Cassidy. I lied.”
She keeps moving forward, seemingly disinterested by my response; “So why did you lie? They’re your friends and it was just a game. I don’t get it.”
Not quite sure how to reply, we continue on the path toward Simone’s hotel in silence. Eventually the silence gets awkward and forces me to reply; “Because … as much as they are my friends and I care about them, that memory I hold too dear to just share – even if it is with best friends.” She is silent; she doesn’t even look in my direction. I worry about misunderstanding, so I look for different words to explain myself, but none come.
“So then, who was your first love? Can you be honest with me?”
“You … you know the answer to that question,” I retort defiantly.
“I’m not so sure, Bryan, why don’t you tell me?”
“Erhm … is that a trick question?”
“What do you mean – trick question?”
“How long have we known each other? Nine, ten years?”
“Almost eleven – but that still doesn’t answer my question.”
“In all that time, all that time – how many times have we seen each other since high-school?”
“A handful at least, I don’t count. I just enjoy the time when we get to see each other.”
“Twenty-one times – that’s how many times we’ve gotten together since then.”
“You counted?”
“No, I don’t need to.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain – but each of those times is ingrained within my mind, they are my happy times.”
“I still don’t understand … but I guess that’s O.K. – I won’t pressure you for a more detailed answer. But you still haven’t answered my first question – who was your first love?”
“Well…” I pause a bit cautious, trying to find the proper wording; “It’s you…”
Simone’s expression does not change; her pace fails to skip a beat. As we keep walking now in silence toward the hotel, I realize I have just released a pent-up decade’s old truth. I worry that she does not believe me or simply doesn’t care – a long overdue sigh flees from my lips.
“That was a long time ago – I honestly didn’t think you were completely serious, Bryan. Also don’t you mean, was me?” Looking at me while she speaks, my heart flutters like it did so many years ago. I do not know if I should try to explain or merely end the discussion with a white-lie. Silence once again invades the night air, disrupted only by the solemn echo of our footfalls and occasional dog bark.
After much thought I knew what I had to say, even if I did not want to verbalize it; “Perhaps I didn’t truly know what love was back then, maybe it was more passion and instinct – I’m not completely sure, it’s been so long. But after you left, the feelings began to clarify themselves, sharpening my perspective on what my emotions were and are. I did not want to explain that to everyone, even if it was just Beth and Terry. It’s a difficult subject to discuss; just thinking about it stirs powerful emotions in me.”
“What do you mean? Why is it difficult to talk about? It was so long ago – it shouldn’t matter anymore.”
“Heh… yeah … I guess it shouldn’t.”
“What’s that about?”
“What’s what about?”
“The sarcasm.”
“It’s nothing – never mind. As you said, it was so long ago.”
“No, no! Don’t try and avoid the subject. I want to know, please Bryan tell me.”
Another awkward moment of silence, she is waiting for a reply, but I am not sure if I can give it to her. But the look in her eyes, those bluish-green spheres pierce through me, forcing my response. “I suppose when I was younger I didn’t fully grasp the concept of love. I simply felt it – as though it were a surge of energy coursing through my body when I was with or thought about you. Then we parted ways when you had to move and our contact grew less and less; I thought those feelings – the energy would gradually diminish. But it didn’t.”
“What do you mean? I don’t get you.”
“What I mean is, instead of dying my feelings for you strengthened, the energy empowered me to run with life and helped me accept your loss. To this day, I still feel that energy coursing through my veins when I think of you. Right now, being here with you, it consumes me.”
“You’re kidding right? This isn’t a very funny joke.”
“At times, I wish I were.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I still love you; I have never stopped – never will stop. Every woman that comes and goes in my life, I’ve never had that feeling – not even remotely. I don’t know why, I’ve tried to figure that out a thousand of time, so don’t ask. What I do know is my heart belongs to one person, my souls find rest and comfort in one person, my body longs for only one person – and that person is and undoubtedly always will be, you, Simone.”
“Err … I don’t know what to say, Bryan. I really don’t.”
“I didn’t expect you to say anything. It’s not why I told you. When you ask, I tell, I can never hide myself from you. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression, I’ve come to terms with everything between us, but in order to be true to myself, I cannot deny how or who I love.”
“Wow … I really didn’t think you feel like this. I’m very surprised, it’s a lot to process right now. We have had a lot of great times and shared countless deeply emotional moments, but I always thought you weren’t completely serious when you told me you love me. I didn’t doubt when you said it, but I didn’t know how to fully interpret it.”
“Like I said earlier, at the time I didn’t either. But that’s not really important now, because now I know completely – it’s just my love.”
“I am sorry, Bryan – I’m sorry if I caused you such confusion or pain. That was never my intention.”
“You’ve never pained me. You saved me. If it wasn’t for you, I doubt I would have ever found myself. Over time, it became easier to deal with everything, yet even to this day, it is still hard to accept and release. But I just keep waking up each day, and allow myself the little hope of seeing you, somehow, lying next to me. Even if it’ll never happen again, it makes my day a little brighter, the everyday troubles easier to swallow. Because being able to deal with your loss, I have been able to overcome everything else. I do not fear any task – for none were or will ever be as daunting as it was to say good-bye to you. So for giving me that gift, you’ve no reason to be sorry, but rather take comfort in knowing you did me immense good.”
* * * * * *
I watch as she enters the elevator, fading from sight as its shiny metallic doors close and a part of my heart tears, like it do so many years ago. “I’ll always love you, Simone…” There was nothing more to say. As I turn and start walking from the hotel’s lobby, heading back home, tears begin to pour down my cheeks in unrelenting fashion. I knew that I might never see her again, to get to touch her hands or face; to feel her body’s warmth, the heat of her breath; the soothing tone of her voice or the tender caress of her lips – but it did not matter. The love in my heart and memories forever stored in my head would sustain me, giving me hope that one day even if it was thirty years from now – we would meet again and I would get to see the one and only love of my life – my soul’s eternal mate.
“I love you, Simone…”
At First Sight:
Sitting around the kitchen table, its lacquered wooden surface hidden by a thin maroon tablecloth and littered with cardboard Beer-emblem drink coasters, four friends raise their mugs in celebration. Stories and laughter fill the air from the decade-old friends, at last pulled back together, if only for a night; their cheers in commemoration at the long overdue reunion. Tonight is their night – captured by the return of old friendships and rekindling of cherished memories. Good times abound for all.
“Cheers folks, it’s been far too long since I’ve laid my eyes on all of you sorry-looking sobs! Let alone in the same room! Who’d of thought this ever possible?” chimes Terry, slamming his half-empty glass on the sturdy tabletop; his boisterous voice carrying with it a hint of longing for past glories.
“Always the charmer, isn’t that what I always tell you, Terry? Always the charmer…” Beth’s rose-painted lips and bronze-tan cheeks peel backward, the flesh pulling taut against her face’s soft, ‘Girl-next-door’ contours, as she lets loose an intense cackle – cynical and dry. Soon after her laughter subsides, Terry is quick to flick a couple of peanut shells her way, missing completely with every attempt.
“Hey quit it!” commands Beth, her voice turning shrill in annoyance.
“Damn Terry, how did you ever make it onto the baseball team each year?” Interrupting their little feud, I find myself for the first time in what could have been an hour, saying something. “Err … what I mean is, if you two want to play children’s games, lets at least play a fun one. I know these two will be up for it. But what do you say Simone?” Looking up from her cell phone, slightly dumbstruck, she glances around the table, issuing a brief apology for the digital distraction and quickly cupping her hands together, it flips closed.
“Well, well! Look who’s alive again – surprise, surprise – you’ve always been such a lightweight, Bryan. Where were you now? Out in space, or just trying not to puke this time?” Terry chides, but my attention is focused elsewhere – on Simone, awaiting her reply. ‘Shut it, T,’ rebukes Beth in my stead; and like reliable age-old clockwork, speedier than ever before, her right-hand flings about, backhanding Terry’s shoulder for the lousy comment. “Hey, hey shit – that hurts! Alright I’m sorry, you know I’m just kidding right, bro?”
I nod to accept his apology, my eyes still entwined with Simone’s – “So what do you say, Simone?” Leaning into the back of the readymade wooden Ikea chair, my bodyweight carrying enough momentum to pull the front legs off the ground, forcing me into a temporary balancing act until the chair’s backside came to rest upon the opposing cabinetry. A bit of timid laughter escapes her otherwise pursed lips; an answer is inevitable now – we are all looking at her. “Well, what’s the game?” she finally blurts.
“Truth or Dare – a fun one, promise” I coax.
“Ahhh – c’mon then, lets just get it started, ya’know she’ll join in once we start!” quips Beth; turning in her seat, she now looks directly at me – so I shift focus. “I get to start!” she instructs eagerly and then takes several more mouthfuls from her glass. “Guinness, yuck! How can you drink that stuff?” Both Terry and I pretend to gag as she finishes her sixth pint.
“Real easy, you see boys, I just swallow.” Beth cuts the explanation short, her face’s expression immediately engulfed in a Homer Simpson-esque ‘Doh!’ moment at realizing what she had just said. Moreover, before she could even begin to regret her wording let alone correct herself, Terry and I break into an uncontrollable cacophony of childish laughter. “Enough!” Beth roars a few moments later and then again a few moments after that – only after the third time de we finally start to calm ourselves down, just as the colour in Beth’s visage begins to redden.
For hours we trade light-hearted questions and silly dares, each of us taking turns in the driver’s seat, probing one-another to see what has happened in their life since our last encounter many years ago. The game is certainly an unexpected delight, granting us the freedom to explore and fill-in the blank chapters of each other’s life. With each turn of the question and answer, it slowly but surely made it feel as though we had never parted ways – never spent numerous years in sparse contact. Fits of cheer and laughter betwixt the occasional joyful tear compose our emotional gamut. Tonight and if only for tonight, all of us feel secure enough to wear our hearts on our sleeves – and it’s a great feeling.
With twilight approaching the game does not relevant. Minds at ease, self-conscious liberated by the liquid courage of heavy intoxication, our faces an assortment of smiles; some like Terry’s are as wide as a baboon’s. Beth’s and Simone’s still display the reserved feminine quality. Mine on the other hand is a massive half-moon running from ear-to-ear. Eventually the choice returns to me and without hesitation, I choose Beth’s truth.
“Bryan, truth or dare?”
“Truth,” I reply.
Beth sits silently for a moment, pondering the possible questions as she rubs her chin. “Ah-ha! I got it - Where did you meet your first love?”
* * * * * *
I remember that day well, for it was as cold an autumn morning as Mother Nature had conjured in my short tenure on this earth. Erupting in dissonance, the school bell broke the outdoor chatter of a few hundred loitering students; ushering the throngs in relative silence through the navy-tinged steel doors. It was during this daily routine that I had performed hundreds of times that I first noticed her – walking in the line toward the door on my left, about half-a-dozen students ahead. I am not quite sure how I got such a good look at her with all the shuffling of bodies and swaying backpacks, but I got enough of one to be instantly mesmerized. It was at that moment, whilst trudging solitarily toward the centre-door’s threshold, I told myself I must discover who she is.
First period droned on into second; lunch-hour passed without as much as a notice. I was elsewhere. The rest of the school day, I spent in a world all to myself – my thoughts consumed by the fleeting glance I had of the mysterious beauty. I had to find her, but where should I start? I did not even know her name; let alone grade or circle of friends! I felt so hopelessly in passion, yet at the same time, I couldn’t help but hear the Man’s voice inside the back of my head saying – ‘It’s just a girl. Get over it.’
Solemnly walking through the hallways, strolling past a blur of lockers depending from the whitewashed brick, head hung low in deep contemplation. Underfoot the black and white checker laminate flooring slipped past; my path adjusting according only to the passing of bodies and opened locker-doors. What was I to do?
Distraught as ever before in my young life I remember venturing into the sanctuary of the school’s cafeteria. Nobody hung out in the cafeteria during class. This was the one place where I knew I could hide away from my teachers, classmates and friends; someplace where I could take solace and decipher my thoughts. As I pushed on the door’s leaver, hearing the lone mechanical click of releasing locks which allowed it to slide open, granting me entrance. Meandering down the aisles of empty custom-coloured green picnic-tables, their benches bowing out from either side, I found one suited to my taste in the far-east corner. Heavily shaded from the bluish hue of the plethora of overhead lighting by a low-hung school-team’s banner which read – The Hurricanes, Provincial Champions 2003 – was an underused table due to its darkened predisposition. The spot was definitely prime real estate for those such as me in need of solitude.
Sitting lengthwise at the table, eyes closed, head resting upon the cafeteria’s cold brick carapace, with legs pulled tightly to my chest, arms entangled around my shins; shoes tapping lightly upon the bench’s wooden surface. I felt so lost. All of this over someone I did not even know – how could this be so? With a shrug of tensed shoulders and shake of my frustrated head, I demanded myself to release the thought, to stop being foolishly love-struck, to get over it then and there. It had almost worked too.
But just as I began to think of something different, trying to envision anything else – I think it was a new Porsche sport’s car – another click of the door’s mechanical lock resounded through the desolate lunchroom and broke my concentration. Looking up from my reclusive niche, eyes releasing their seal to survey the unwelcome newcomers. I had hoped they would not be my teacher or friends coming to find me – but to my dismay and good fortune – the single person emerging through the door certainly was not any current friend of mine. It was her.
My heart fluttered, mouth dropped, hands rose and wiped my eyes in disbelief. This could not be true – most assuredly was not to be happening – why was I to be toyed with in such a cruel manner? What by-product of Karmic Rule had deemed this a suitable consequence for my past mistakes? Yet therein lied my curse’s duality, as much as I longed to delete her from my mind, a tenfold yearning to know her grew – strangling my conscious. Petrified as though a deer caught in a careening car’s headlights, I stayed locked in the shadowy recesses – my eyes could not turn away – transfixed upon my heart’s usurper.
She moved gracefully down the farthest aisle from me, walking toward a table near the large two-door entrance of the kitchen – I guess she enjoyed the smell of deep-fried foods as much as I did. By God, she was the most beautiful lady I had ever set my sights upon! Her visage a portrait of the rarest type of beauty – natural – delicately curved cheek and jawbones covered with skin so soft that an Angel must have graced her personage. Silken blonde hair fell down past her shoulders, swaying to the rhythm of her footfalls; from this distance, she seemed all too surreal.
I sat in quiet study of my new-found desire, enthralled by her presence. When she sat alone, I longed to walk up and introduce myself. But I could not muster the courage to take the first step, let alone find the words to express myself. So dejectedly I sat, disappointed in myself for lack of bravery yet also secure in the decision to avoid contact – at least just yet. After a few minutes, I could no longer bear the sight of her – it drove me wild – so hastily I left the cafeteria, skipped the remainder of class, forgetting my backpack and homework and went home.
Opening the screen-door to my mother’s house, our dog Gizmo barked; his typical alarm-bell alerting the household to another’s presence. With a silencing “Shut it,” I managed to quell the pipsqueak’s herald and moved past the doorway. As I passed the living room, my sickly mother looked up from the couch, asking me why I had returned so early. “Just not feeling good,” I muttered and with little trouble managed the excuse, allowing me to bypass further questioning. Descending the carpeted staircase to my room, I glanced at my decrepit grandmother, also couch-ridden – she did not appear to notice me, so silently I made way to the basement, closing the thin wooden door behind. Here there was no sunlight, only the artificial luminescence offered from a solitary 60-watt light bulb. I felt isolated, secure and alone for the first time since I left the safe-haven that was my room hours ago.
Throwing myself onto the flower-decorated couch, my body took rest upon the well-used cushions; how I languished to hear her voice, to know her name. With both hands I pulled the fleece cover overhead, allowing myself to be enshrouded in a darkness paralleling that which distressed my thoughts. Our Father who art in Heaven … is the last thing I remember of that day.
The next day, I ventured to school with a sense of trepidation. As much as I wanted to simply forego the feelings that had overwhelmed me for the last 24 hours, I could not manage to elude them for long. Matter-of-fact, whilst strolling by my lonesome down the asphalt pathway that led from the myriad of side-streets to the school yard, the first person I saw when I turned the corner past the chain-linked fence was her! Never before had I noticed that she took the same route; walking the same lonely path that I routinely took. Again my heart skipped a beat and sought to retreat, into the shell that had become my personal Hell, but steadfast I stood. I would not flee, for whatever today brought, I was determined to face it.
Whilst engaging in the routine activities that constituted an ordinary school day, I found myself once again lost in thought. I just could not get her off my mind. My teachers and their lessons went completely unheeded, save the occasional glance at the chalk board; socializing with friends became more of an exercise in reiteration than open communication. Ever the thespian, I managed to mask my turmoil in an ever-present smile; a well-used façade from my troubled childhood – one I longed to never recall into duty – yet for these circumstances it proved an indispensable ‘gift’.
Each time I glanced at the white-faced, black-numbered clock depending above the classroom’s doorway, it felt as though time had no meaning but to extend my uncertainty and torment. I remember all I wanted to do at that point was to get up, leave class and meander through the hallways. Decidedly so with the teacher’s reply to my raised hand and given a satisfactory excuse, I was granted permission to the bathroom; a temporary reprieve from the drudgery of World History.
There were few students lingering in the halls, and the majority that were, were seniors with a spare period; an odd class-skipper littered the mix, but they were more focused on not being caught then enjoying their hour of freedom. I slowly managed my way down the bleak corridors, shoulders hunched forward, head downcast; turning left here, right there, until I ventured into the heavily-scented bathroom and begun to plan out the rest of my day’s escape.
Thankfully it was empty. Marching in front the string of automated urinals, their infrared sensors each marked my passing with a release of water as I moved toward the back-row of stalls, choosing the farthest for my transitory haven. Locking the door and resting myself upon the toilet seat’s opaque cover, my lips parted, venting the troubles of my heart with a long lone sigh. It was shortly thereafter I came to realize that this certainly was not the ideal place to sit for a quiet moment’s reflection. The unpleasant smell of all things associated with a lavatory assailed my nostrils; urine, bodily gases and worse mingled with the scent of carbolic soap permeating in the air. It was enough to make anyone gag, and promptly forced me to rethink where I could adjourn for the remainder of the day.
Pondering the possible retreats, I could not fathom more than a handful; the most practical begin at home, but that would only raise more questions from already overly concerned family members. Another idea was the soccer field’s outlying forest. With its leaf-less trees and thick underbrush – at least its atmosphere would match that of my own mentality – drab, dreary and listless. But on second thought, it became another unsuitable location due to the weather – improperly dressed; it was far too cold for me to withstand the bone-chilling winds and sporadic rainfall that the weatherman had forecasted correctly. So where was there left to go?
I had hoped to avoid the cafeteria altogether, but my options were running few and far between. I could not endure sitting in the washroom for much longer than a couple more minutes, let alone for over two hours! If only I had of thought ahead and brought a nose-plug then none of this would have been problematic. Foolish, foolish me, I remember reprimanding myself with at the time. So to the cafeteria it was – I would return to the darkened niche of yesterday and hoped for that chance to catch-up with my thoughts.
With caution I took to the halls, careful to elude anyone whom might blow my cover. En route, I stopped to look at the trophy case, half-heartedly glancing at numerous statues of athletic men and women forever posed in metallic triumph. How I longed to be like the bronze they were made of – inanimate and frozen without emotion. But this could never be, so with a bit of convincing I dismissed the thought as wishful thinking and moved on. Entering the cafeteria, I strolled down the aisles with little to no notice of my surroundings; it appeared empty at first glance. Boy was I wrong.
Suddenly a voice filled the otherwise dead air, its blithe tone infiltrating my ears; “Hey stranger.” Stopped dead in my tracks, I dared not look. That voice, although I had never heard it before in my life, became instantly recognizable – it belonged to her. “I said, hey stranger,” she repeated; “not going to turn and face me?” Panic-stricken, thick beads of sweat pooled upon my brow, not knowing how to respond, I slowly turned around to face her. There she sat at the same table as before, how could I not have noticed her?
“Err … hello,” my voice quivered.
She was smiling at me and it melted my heart. “I saw you sitting alone the other day. You didn’t look like you were up for some company, so I let you be. How about today – up for some?” Talk about a whirlwind! Was she for real? She noticed me? I must have been taking my sweet time to respond, because before I could issue a reply, she carried on. “Well, are you going to sit down or aren’t you?”
For a few more drawn-out moments, I stood dumbfounded; trying to rationalize what had just taken place. This proved nothing more than an exercise in futility, for the life of me I could not gather how all of this had come about. So instead of continuing to stand there like the statues in the trophy case, I slid onto the opposing bench and casually rested my elbows upon the table.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Uh … Bryan, what’s yours?”
“Simone – it’s a pleasure to meet you!” Her voice sounded so sincere it would have swept me off my feet had I not been sitting.
“Likewise,” I said timidly; “So you saw me the other day, you say? That’s odd.”
“Why do you say that? You and I were the only people in the caf. Who else was I supposed to notice? The lunch-ladies? C’mon now, I mean, I look their food as much as the next person, but with the uniforms they wear, they aren’t exactly my cup of tea!” She jested, a smile creeping from the lips and across her exquisite cheeks.
“Oh yeah… I forgot about that. I was sort of preoccupied, ya’know? Always things to think about.”
“So what were you thinking about – if you don’t mind my asking?”
Now that question I certainly was not prepared to answer truthfully. So with the few remaining wits I had left in my head came this excuse;
“Exams.”
She glanced at me quizzically, as though sizing me up with relation to my answer. “They aren’t for a few more months.”
“Oh … I know … just a worry-wart sometimes,” I hastily retorted, trying to sate her curiosity.
“Fair enough, fair enough. So tell me, Mr. Bryan – what brings you to this place today then? Exams again?”
Damn she was quick with her questions, too quick. “Uh … just needed to get out of class for a bit – some fresh air.”
“Me too,” she replied; “But the caf doesn’t do it for me – even though it’s raining want to go for a walk?” Was she kidding me? Go for a walk? Hell yes! As eager as I was to pounce upon the proposal, I managed to keep my cool and answered with a simple nod.
Exiting the school we kept a low profile to avoid any staff that frequented the smoking section, making our way across the jam-packed parking lot and to the nearby church. It was deserted at this time of day. It felt as though we were making some great escape, and for the first time I had a partner in crime which made the adventure all the sweeter. I was too nervous to say much, my tongue tied in knots; I hated it too, I did not want to give her the wrong impression. I really wanted to talk but everything I thought about seemed stupid or silly, I could not decide what to discuss or it simply just would not come out! But soon enough the decision was taken from my hands – she plunged in and sparked the initial conversation – what a relief!
“So quiet one, where do you live?” she said.
“Over there,” pausing for a moment I pointed westward; “In the Kwartha Heights area. It’s a nice neighbourhood. What about you?”
“Really?”
“Yeah – why?”
“Me too! I’ve never seen you out and about – what street do you live on?”
“Treetop, 1567 – you?”
“Wow, really close – Cherry Hill, 1659. That’s cool, well at least we don’t have to be strangers anymore!”
“Heh, yeah – make sure to say hi if you see me.”
“Promise if you do,” she replied.
“Err … deal,” I agreed.
She beamed a smile at me and timidly I gave one back. Stopping at the church’s doorstep, with the wind howling fiercely at our backs and raindrops spilling over the eaves-trough and crashing upon your heads, we looked desperately for a spot to take shelter from the harsh elements. Finding a dry niche suitable to our needs near the corner wall. Huddling together we sat with our backs to the red brick, safe from the drizzle and cold unrelenting tempest.
We conversed for hours talking as though age-old friends whom were comfortable unveiling the intimacies of our lives. Liberated of insecurity’s cumbersome mantle, which so often restricts communication from developing into the deep and meaningful, I was able to delve as far into her heart and mind as she was mine.
“It’s been a trying few months. When she passed away, I didn’t know exactly what to do or how to cope. I sat by my lonesome for a long while, sort of like how you were yesterday. I wished; wished so much that I could’ve redone our last conversation, to be able to say how I really felt and how much she meant to me…” Her words were anguished and unexplainably I wished never to hear that tone in her voice again for it greatly pained my heart. My hands fidgeted around in my pockets, toying with a stray coin as she spoke; as uncomfortable as the subject matter was for both of us, I knew that it was important to have a medium for release.
“It seems like it, that must be hard to deal with. Death is always painful – I’ve had its sour taste in my mouth recently too,” sighing I replied; “My best friend…” pausing in an effort to maintain my composure but it was too late; tears begun slinking down my rosy cheeks.
Immediately I looked away, head poised downward, eyes closing in an attempt to quell the salty discharge; but it would not cease. I was so embarrassed! At that moment I wanted nothing more than to flee, yet somehow I was frozen to the spot. During this moment of vulnerability, an immense fear of Simone’s judgement crept in, but I soon found out that I had nothing to fear.
Her hand touched my face, fingers gently wiping away the tears as she pushed my head back to eye-level. The look on her face was not that of disinterest, disgust or disappointment. On the contrary, it was of genuine concern. She did not speak nor did she need to – everything that could be said was already being stated with action. The simple stroke of her warm hands against my cold cheeks more than I had prepared for, and although the hurt inside did not evaporate, through this act of compassion it certainly diminished to the point where my tears ceased and an awkward smile gradually returned to my lips.
“It’s all right, you don’t need to hide. You can show yourself to me,” she said in earnest; hands cupping my face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t –”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry about,” adamantly she interjected.
“But I am, I –”
“No! There’s no need, don’t even try to say it!”
“Err … okay. Sorry – ugh! I mean – thanks.” I reply.
“Around me, you just need to be yourself, whatever that entails. If you can’t be you, then who are you? There’s no need to posture. Ok?”
Taken aback I did not know exactly how to respond, her personality was certainly unlike anyone I had ever met and that enthralled me, everything else about her was merely icing to the proverbial cake. Still a bit tongue-tied I replied, “Good deal. I’m not quite sure I get you, but it sounds comforting. But you’ve got to promise me the same – deal?”
“Deal,” she replied; “So plans?”
“Plans – what plans?”
“To do, silly – what’ca want to do?”
“Err, you mean now?” I responded, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
“Yes I mean now! What else did you think I was talking about? Tomorrow? That’s an entire day away!”
“I suppose you’re right, I suppose you’re right. Well, I dunno … The weather’s still crumby out,” passing my hand out from the safety niche’s covering, the rain poured fiercely upon it; “Perhaps we should just sit tight for a bit, wait and see if this clears.”
“Nonsense! We’ve sat here long enough, it’s time to explore. You decide!”
Damn – she had caught me on one of my worst attributes: decision-making. After several minutes of thought and a few gouges to my ribs from my new-found friend’s index finger, I spoke up; “The mall? There’s a sale that ends today, and I need to get a new pair of pants.”
* * * * * *
As the days turned into weeks and then into months, our friendship grew in leaps and bounds; there appeared to be no limitation on what we could discuss or share in. Although at that junction in my life, my emotions were still in their infancy, I felt immensely for her. When I looked into her eyes, they pierced my soul; like crystal-clear panes of glass, I could through them and into her deepest aspects. I understood who she was, why she acted with her own uniqueness; why she was afraid and at times, empty. And so could see all those things in me too.
We must have spent the entire semester together, enjoying each other’s company as though there was nobody else around. Our little trips to the mall or movie theatre, even simply out to eat became moments forever ingrained within my memory; each adventure however seemingly mundane brought about an immeasurable sense of happiness and contentment to my oft troubled heart. Even though I still kept parts of myself locked away under thick layers of insecurity and self-doubt, around her I grew in safety, in comfort and gradually like peeling away the rotten layers of an onion, I unfurled my secrets, my fears and pains.
Then one day everything suddenly changed. She had called me to meet up with her at the park, it was a Sunday, so nothing but the tone of her voice seemed out of the ordinary. She sounded distant, withdrawn, definitely not her usual self. I was a bit spooked, to tell you the truth, but nevertheless, I was excited as ever to go and spend the afternoon with her. I got ready quickly, it was still autumn, and so I dressed light. I ran off toward the park a couple minutes after hanging up the phone; I knew she would already be there and I did not want to keep her waiting long.
Arriving at the local elementary school, its playground empty, and the baseball diamond too; so I marched toward the underused swing-sets, I knew I would find her there. Trotting up the grassy knoll and past the jungle-gym, I saw her sitting on one of the swing-set’s seats, rocking back and forth slowly without much energy. This was very uncharacteristic of her; I knew something must have been very wrong.
Approaching her, she did not seem to notice me, her head fixated upon the sand bed that lay underfoot. I shouted from afar, “Heya cutie! What’s up?” No response came, even her head failed to rise to greet me with a smile; something very troubling was brooding within her. My pace slowed trepidation for what loomed ahead clutching at my innards and making me feel a nervous sickness.
When I finally reached her, I took the seat next to her. She still would not look up to face me. What was up? I was very anxious to hear her dilemma and help her through it, but something about this particular situation alarmed me – it told me that things between us were about to change. If only I could have prepared myself for how drastic the change would be.
As we swung back and forth, the lazy wind provided little in the way of encouragement; I continued to look at her. Finally she spoke, her voice softer than ever, her words coming uneasily to fruition; “My … my parents just told me … something …” She paused trying to maintain what little resolve she had left.
“What’s up? What do you mean? What did they tell you?” I fired quickly in reply.
For another few moments she was silent, until finally it must have been too much to bear and so she simply blurted it out like a bad taste from her mouth; “We’re moving! We have to move! My dad got a new job, we have to move – I have to move!”
My swing stopped rocking. I could not believe what I had just heard, nor did I want to try and believe it. In fact, I wanted to yell at her, to tell her how cruel a joke that was and to never try a prank like that again; but I knew she was being truthful, all too truthful. As she looked up to face me, her face was covered in tears and soon mine was too. All the words of encouragement I had thought of on the way to the park simply vanished from my thoughts, all the courage and willingness to show her support dissipated faster than an ice cube in boiling water; I was left in as worse emotional upheaval as she.
The lone whisper of the wind passing across the field and gently nudging the empty seats of the swing-set overtook all as we sat silent for many minutes. Neither of us dared look at the other, it was far too painful; tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes were all there was to see and that alone was too powerful a sight. So we sat as slaves to our emotions, entrapped within the all-too-powerful embrace of sudden loss. I tried to think of something funny to cajole a sense of happiness to my thoughts, perhaps even share to lighten the mood, but only the maven of loss with all of her disparaging comments loitered within my head.
“I … I don’t care!” finally I blurted out; “I won’t let you go!” I was nearly yelling at this point, but managed to adjust my tone as not to discourage her from talking back.
“I can’t help it … I begged them not to move, I begged them!” She screamed back at me; her face flooded with a combination of sadness and anger.
“This can’t be happening, can’t be,” I muttered, slipping from the swing and pacing around aimlessly. My head shook in disbelief as if trying to wake myself from some abhorring dream, but no matter how hard or fast I shook, the reality of the situation would not lift to unveil itself as a common nightmare. No, this was the cold truth and I could not escape it.
“Why do you have to move? Where is your dad’s new job? What the hell is going on?” I stammered, walking past her.
“Somewhere overseas, I don’t know! They just told me today, an hour ago! You’re the first person I’ve told!” She cried back, sitting motionless on the swing’s seat; white-knuckled hands wrapped tightly around the suspending chain-links.
“Refuse! Tell them no, you won’t go!” I pleaded with her.
“I’ve tried! I’ve tried it all already! I’ve screamed, I’ve fought, I’ve cried, they won’t budge! We’re moving within two weeks!” She was still screaming, each word assailing me with a deeper sense of loss than I had ever felt before. She jumped from the swing-set and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, pulling tightly to my chest as she cried vehemently.
Wrapping my arms around her, squeezing as though it was life-or-death, we stood entwined within each other’s embrace and shed countless tears. Nothing could save us and we both knew it – that hurt worst of all. Our bodies shook as we sobbed, faces resting against each other; my lips mouthing words that until that point I was too afraid to say. But now was the time, for in that moment, I knew that there probably never would be another chance to expose my soul to her.
I pushed her away slightly, just enough so that she could see my face in full view. I had managed to calm myself enough to speak coherently, to show that what I was about to tell her was not simply some spasmodic rhetoric or simply out of the threat of imminent separation but genuine sentiment.
“Simone … Simone … my Simone … I’ve tried so hard to figure all this out between you and me; to grasp what the hell all these feelings are about. I’ve struggled with it and I thought I knew what it’s all about, but just now have I come to realize everything … everything you mean to me.” A second’s hesitation crept into my head and bid me caution for what I was about to expose; perhaps it would be too much for her to hear right now; or perhaps she would not want to hear it at all? But for my peace-of-mind and in the necessary pursuit of being truthful to my heart, I urged myself on.
“I … I don’t really know how to put this … I don’t think there’s any certain way even though this certainly isn’t the situation I want to be telling it to you in, but now I must – my hand and heart have been forced,” Pausing for another second I looked into her eyes, past their pained and confused look and watery surface; I looked into the place that stored the precious Simone that I had discovered many months ago when during our first conversation and in my bout of tears she chose to reveal herself. Once I had found her, I was no longer hesitant to finish what I had to say; “I have fallen for you. I love you. I LOVE YOU,” my voice escalated as the words came off my lips to the point where I was shouting – to say the words freed but also completely overwhelmed me and I could do nothing more than simply keep repeating them.
My tears has resumed in full force and Simone whom was being held at arm’s length shook violently as she cried. It was too much for her. It was too much for me too. I released my grip on her and fell to my knees; I could feel the moist grass as it soaked through my corduroy pants. I pounded the ground trying to vent my frustration, to override my sorrow with the temporary curate of physical pain, but that was soon halted as Simone grabbed at my hands, forcing them to a halt. She too was kneeling and within a hair’s length from my face.
“Don’t you ever do that, you hear me? You better don’t do that again!” She demanded her tears decreasing in volume as her anger for my actions rose.
My arms did not fight her restrictive embrace, instead it felt comforting to feel her touch. Still crying immensely, I was perhaps more prone to tears than she, yet a tear was a tear and shed for the same purpose carried equal weight – no matter how many may or may not follow. My fingers motioned against the ridge of her thumbs, caressing the soft skin, as my mouth continued to mutter ‘I love you.’ I never expected her to say it back, nor did I want to force it by saying it to her, so in all honesty, I cannot remember what exactly she said in reply, but the look on her face is all I needed to know how she felt. She was my Simone – regardless of who else might try and take her, to know and to love her – she would always be mine beyond anyone else’s.
I pulled my arms back and she followed, relinquishing her grasp enough for me to wrap mine around her back, squeezing her tightly. Her chin rested upon my shoulder, and I rested mine upon the side of head. Our tears refreshed, pouring down my face and across her cheek; hers down my neck and onto my Polo shirt. There was nothing left to say. There was only feeling, the feeling forever shared between us.
* * * * * *
“Bryan? Bryan? You alive?”
Shaking my head and looking toward Beth and company and realizing I had been silent for far too long, I promptly thought of an answer to her question. “I met her at a friend’s party, several years ago. Her name was Cassidy,” I finally reply, hiding the truth behind a masterful guise and earnest voice. All but Simone are satisfied with the long overdue answer. She knows better.
As the night turns to dawn and its illustrious rays shine upon the resting half of the world, our quartet feels its energy being sapped. “I think it’s time to get heading back to the hotel,” I stammer drunkenly. Nobody has the strength to argue. We have had a truly memorable night and there is nothing more to accomplish from prolonging some much needed rest. Everyone agrees, too exhausted to fight their own desire for sleep.
At the door, we share loving embraces and kisses on the cheeks. After issuing our meaningful farewells and earnest promises to keep in contact, Beth and Terry wave one final time before closing the door. Simone and I turn from the doorstep and begin to walk down the cobbled pathway down to the street. A comfortable silence lingers in the air but it is soon broken by a question from Simone; it was one that I knew was coming, ever since I answered Beth’s query.
“You never told me about a Cassidy,” she states plainly, not bothering to look at me as we walk down the deserted street passing several parked cars.
Taking my time to find the proper wording, knowing that this conversation will lead to further question; I continue to walk alongside her, hands tucked into my coat’s pockets; “Well, there was never a Cassidy. I lied.”
She keeps moving forward, seemingly disinterested by my response; “So why did you lie? They’re your friends and it was just a game. I don’t get it.”
Not quite sure how to reply, we continue on the path toward Simone’s hotel in silence. Eventually the silence gets awkward and forces me to reply; “Because … as much as they are my friends and I care about them, that memory I hold too dear to just share – even if it is with best friends.” She is silent; she doesn’t even look in my direction. I worry about misunderstanding, so I look for different words to explain myself, but none come.
“So then, who was your first love? Can you be honest with me?”
“You … you know the answer to that question,” I retort defiantly.
“I’m not so sure, Bryan, why don’t you tell me?”
“Erhm … is that a trick question?”
“What do you mean – trick question?”
“How long have we known each other? Nine, ten years?”
“Almost eleven – but that still doesn’t answer my question.”
“In all that time, all that time – how many times have we seen each other since high-school?”
“A handful at least, I don’t count. I just enjoy the time when we get to see each other.”
“Twenty-one times – that’s how many times we’ve gotten together since then.”
“You counted?”
“No, I don’t need to.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain – but each of those times is ingrained within my mind, they are my happy times.”
“I still don’t understand … but I guess that’s O.K. – I won’t pressure you for a more detailed answer. But you still haven’t answered my first question – who was your first love?”
“Well…” I pause a bit cautious, trying to find the proper wording; “It’s you…”
Simone’s expression does not change; her pace fails to skip a beat. As we keep walking now in silence toward the hotel, I realize I have just released a pent-up decade’s old truth. I worry that she does not believe me or simply doesn’t care – a long overdue sigh flees from my lips.
“That was a long time ago – I honestly didn’t think you were completely serious, Bryan. Also don’t you mean, was me?” Looking at me while she speaks, my heart flutters like it did so many years ago. I do not know if I should try to explain or merely end the discussion with a white-lie. Silence once again invades the night air, disrupted only by the solemn echo of our footfalls and occasional dog bark.
After much thought I knew what I had to say, even if I did not want to verbalize it; “Perhaps I didn’t truly know what love was back then, maybe it was more passion and instinct – I’m not completely sure, it’s been so long. But after you left, the feelings began to clarify themselves, sharpening my perspective on what my emotions were and are. I did not want to explain that to everyone, even if it was just Beth and Terry. It’s a difficult subject to discuss; just thinking about it stirs powerful emotions in me.”
“What do you mean? Why is it difficult to talk about? It was so long ago – it shouldn’t matter anymore.”
“Heh… yeah … I guess it shouldn’t.”
“What’s that about?”
“What’s what about?”
“The sarcasm.”
“It’s nothing – never mind. As you said, it was so long ago.”
“No, no! Don’t try and avoid the subject. I want to know, please Bryan tell me.”
Another awkward moment of silence, she is waiting for a reply, but I am not sure if I can give it to her. But the look in her eyes, those bluish-green spheres pierce through me, forcing my response. “I suppose when I was younger I didn’t fully grasp the concept of love. I simply felt it – as though it were a surge of energy coursing through my body when I was with or thought about you. Then we parted ways when you had to move and our contact grew less and less; I thought those feelings – the energy would gradually diminish. But it didn’t.”
“What do you mean? I don’t get you.”
“What I mean is, instead of dying my feelings for you strengthened, the energy empowered me to run with life and helped me accept your loss. To this day, I still feel that energy coursing through my veins when I think of you. Right now, being here with you, it consumes me.”
“You’re kidding right? This isn’t a very funny joke.”
“At times, I wish I were.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I still love you; I have never stopped – never will stop. Every woman that comes and goes in my life, I’ve never had that feeling – not even remotely. I don’t know why, I’ve tried to figure that out a thousand of time, so don’t ask. What I do know is my heart belongs to one person, my souls find rest and comfort in one person, my body longs for only one person – and that person is and undoubtedly always will be, you, Simone.”
“Err … I don’t know what to say, Bryan. I really don’t.”
“I didn’t expect you to say anything. It’s not why I told you. When you ask, I tell, I can never hide myself from you. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression, I’ve come to terms with everything between us, but in order to be true to myself, I cannot deny how or who I love.”
“Wow … I really didn’t think you feel like this. I’m very surprised, it’s a lot to process right now. We have had a lot of great times and shared countless deeply emotional moments, but I always thought you weren’t completely serious when you told me you love me. I didn’t doubt when you said it, but I didn’t know how to fully interpret it.”
“Like I said earlier, at the time I didn’t either. But that’s not really important now, because now I know completely – it’s just my love.”
“I am sorry, Bryan – I’m sorry if I caused you such confusion or pain. That was never my intention.”
“You’ve never pained me. You saved me. If it wasn’t for you, I doubt I would have ever found myself. Over time, it became easier to deal with everything, yet even to this day, it is still hard to accept and release. But I just keep waking up each day, and allow myself the little hope of seeing you, somehow, lying next to me. Even if it’ll never happen again, it makes my day a little brighter, the everyday troubles easier to swallow. Because being able to deal with your loss, I have been able to overcome everything else. I do not fear any task – for none were or will ever be as daunting as it was to say good-bye to you. So for giving me that gift, you’ve no reason to be sorry, but rather take comfort in knowing you did me immense good.”
* * * * * *
I watch as she enters the elevator, fading from sight as its shiny metallic doors close and a part of my heart tears, like it do so many years ago. “I’ll always love you, Simone…” There was nothing more to say. As I turn and start walking from the hotel’s lobby, heading back home, tears begin to pour down my cheeks in unrelenting fashion. I knew that I might never see her again, to get to touch her hands or face; to feel her body’s warmth, the heat of her breath; the soothing tone of her voice or the tender caress of her lips – but it did not matter. The love in my heart and memories forever stored in my head would sustain me, giving me hope that one day even if it was thirty years from now – we would meet again and I would get to see the one and only love of my life – my soul’s eternal mate.
“I love you, Simone…”
Last edited: