Note: A small bit from my WIP ghost fic. It's another scene set in the past, written in second person. (Still not sure I like that.) Not edited by anyone other than me. Cheers!
Past (2)
You hate days when you have to dress in anything more formal than casual. It isn't that you don't like to look nice—that part, you love. No, it's the insane footwear society has forced upon you. You hate, hate, hate heeled shoes and the way they make your calves ache. You know it's your own damn fault, though, because you're too vain to wear flats that, while more comfortable, make you look completely ass-less in your long skirts and tailored pants.
You've learned a few tricks over the years, though. You wear slip on shoes as you make the short-but-just-long-enough-to-hurt-your-feet trek from your (okay, Matt's, since his is the only name on the lease) apartment to the Metro. You keep the comfortable shoes on for the first leg of your trip because there's really no rush to change when you're going to have to wait for your connecting train at one of the hub stops, anyway.
Unfortunately, when you're seated between an older black woman with a colorful suit and some tourists who look more confused than anything else, you know the inevitable can no longer be avoided. Opening your briefcase, which you carry mostly to look professional as it only holds your shoes and purse, you remove the dreaded pumps. They're really cute and fit like a dream but you know that will not save you.
Bending over to make the exchange, you get a different perspective of the people riding the Metro that morning. There's a caramel skinned man in a suit who looks about your father's age and a scowling teenager whose arms are crossed sullenly as he listens to some sort of MP3 playing device seated across from you. On the other side of the man is a couple sharing a seat. You pause with only one heeled shoe on to watch them for a moment.
The man, who can't be any older than you if that, is leaning into the corner of the car with his arms wrapped around the woman on his lap. Their heads are bent as if they're sharing secrets and you feel a pang in your heart. It's been a long time since there was anybody to whisper into your ear… longer still since you sat on someone's lap (unless you count Santa, which you don't). You offer them a lopsided smile when the man notices your less-than-veiled attention.
His eyes widen, as if surprised, and he opens his mouth. The brakes on the train slam suddenly and you have to concentrate fully on not being thrown into the older woman who, while sturdy looking, probably wouldn't appreciate being bombarded by a twenty-something with only one shoe on. You slip your other shoe on and close up your briefcase before you glance back over to the couple. They're gone, though, and there's only a stack of newspaper in the seat they previously occupied.
You furrow your brows for a moment wondering what that was all about, and then shrug it off. You have only two more stops before you get off and suddenly a wave of nerves hits you. You've never met your Representative before, and, even though you're only going to speaking with one of her aides regarding her stance on education policy, it's still kind of a big deal to you. Suddenly, you're almost glad you have your shoes to be annoyed about—it helped you forget to be terrified for a while.
You decide to send a thank you letter to Steve Madden when you get a chance as you stand up and prepare to exit. You even indulge in a smile before terror (and maybe a bit of excitement) overtakes you again.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
13. don't lose any sleep tonight, I'm sure everything will end up alright
Notes: I'm less experienced than a novice when it comes to chess but I had inspiration for a story involving it all the same. (Note the vagueness to which I describe the game. ;)) I was sort of trying something by starting in the middle and filling in the background as the plot progressed from there, though I'm not sure how successful I was in making the characters well-rounded and compelling. Also, mostly only I've edited this piece, so all mistakes belong to me and me alone.
Tears raced down her face as she tore her arm from her grasp. "Stop it! Just stop it!" She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "It's not funny! I won't be your joke anymore! Just stop and leave me be!"
Dumbstruck, he gaped at her for a moment. "What are you on about?" he asked, brows furrowed.
"I don't understand," she continued, ignoring his question. "I thought you were my friend but—" She pulled herself up and faced him head on. "Do you laugh when I'm not around? Amusement for you and your real mates. How could you?" Now her tear filled eyes bored holes into him.
He ran a hand through his hair, obviously bewildered. "Lily, I have no idea what you're talking about. Just—"
She waved him off, thrusting a piece of parchment toward him. "I can't believe you knew. It would be one thing if you just-just didn't feel the same but that you would string me along for so long for your own sick pleasure—how could you be so cruel?" She shook her head. "God, Aiden, I don't even know you."
His mouth opened to try and piece together some semblance of sense but she just shook her head as she slid into her car. She was gone in a screech, leaving a flurry or leaves unsettled behind her.
Blinking, he glanced down at the paper she'd thrust into his hands. There were water drops—tears, he realized belatedly—but the print was still readable.
Hugh—
I can't believe school's only been out for a week! It feels like an age. My mum's already on me about my A-Levels, though, can you believe it? You'd think we were already halfway through next year or something!
Anyway, I've not got long. I just wanted to check—are you still planning to visit Town next week? I was hoping we could get tea...without our parents. They are horrible bores, after all.
One last thing before I go; I never could work up the nerve to say anything during the year. Please don't be mad—I just didn't want to upset you. I know how much you care for Lily, even if she is a terrible nag at times.
See, my older sister mentioned she overheard Aiden Milton laughing about her—about how she's always following him like a puppy dog and obviously infatuated with him. I know they're meant to be friends but apparently he and his mates are always mocking what she says and other things behind her back.
I'm so sorry, Hugh. I honestly didn't know how to tell you. I can't imagine what I'd do if it were my sister and… well, I just hope you can forgive me for taking so long. We can chat more next week or over IM.
Aurelia Santoro xoxo
Face set in a deep scowl, Aiden raced into his parent's posh flat. Unlike Lily, he still wasn't quite old enough to get his license. Instead, he was stuck using cabs and the generosity of others. It wasn't long before he was on his father's computer, using Skype to call the Santoro household. (They summered in Italy and he highly doubted his parents would appreciate a long distance phone charge.)
A maid with dark skin and darker eyes answered the call. She appeared to have been cleaning the office. "Signore Aiden, sir," she said in a heavily accented voice. "You wish to be speaking with Signorina Giulia?"
"Yes," he barked, forgoing the usual pleasantries in his agitated state.
The woman gave a serene nod, apparently not bothered by his tone, and moved out of the webcam's range.
It wasn't long before Giulia's tanned face popped into view. "Aiden?" she questioned curiously. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this impromptu call?"
He did not spare her any pleasantries. "Lily has just been here, Giulia. She was in an absolute state because of something your sister wrote to her brother. Something you apparently shared with Aurelia about me." His expression darkened. "I just have one question: why?"
Giulia had the audacity to look innocent. "Am I not allowed to share things with my sister now? How was I to know she was friends with Hugh Dixon?" She crossed her arms. "I'm not the one who told all those stories about the 'stupid flower' and that 'pansy cow'."
Instantly his face fell. "That—you thought..." Aiden growled with irritation. "I called her that pansy cow because the stories were about Pansy King and my father!" He grit his teeth. "You insufferable busybody. Instead of coming to me or having all the facts, you just—ugh!" Throwing his hands up, he waved off her hasty apologies. "Never mind. I've got a mess to clean up."
After closing Skype, Aiden began pacing. He couldn't very well cab over to the Dixon household or wherever Lily had chosen to hide out. If her mum and dad didn't do him in, her brother and cousins would surely finish the job. No, despite his inclination to try to fix this that moment, it would probably be best to wait. Forcing himself to sit, Aiden began to formulate a plan.
It was late morning when Aiden called a cab take him to Lily's small suburban neighborhood. It was a short ride during which he alternated between looking anxiously at his cell phone (no missed calls from Lily) and pretending to listen to the Pakistani man ramble about traffic and weather. Soon enough, he was standing on a corner and left to his own devices.
Wandering down the lane, it wasn't hard for him to find a small park. A cursory look confirmed that it was the park. The park that Lily always chatted about. It really wasn't much to look at—just a few benches, a nice lawn with some flowers around the edges and a handful chess tables in the centre. But for the child of Robert Dixon, rabid chess enthusiast, it was enough.
He spotted her almost instantly. Her red hair shone like a beacon—a splash of color in an utterly gray world.
For a moment, he paused. An anxious hand ran through his blond hair and he considered running away. But, no. He'd made it this far, he wasn't going to call another cab (or worse, one of his parents) to return home with his tail between his legs. Not without at least speaking with her first.
Steeling himself, Aiden marched forward. As he closed in on her, he could see Lily was waiting for another opponent. He gave the evil eye to anyone that even glanced her way and swooped into the seat across from her.
Lily's gaze snapped up, and she froze. "Aiden?" Her mouth formed a thin line as she started to stand.
Covering her hand with his, his gray eyes pleaded with her. "Please, Lil. Hear me out."
Maybe it was his sincerity. Maybe it was the dark circles under his eyes from a night of restless sleep. Maybe it was nothing more than some kind of morbid curiosity. Whatever the reason, though, she gave a small nod and sat again. "Fine," she said stiffly. "But, if you want to sit there, you're playing."
"Fine," he agreed. Because he was the challenger, he let her make the first move.
They played in silence for at least ten minutes before Lily's irritation outweighed any lingering mortification. "You were going to say something?" she prompted, bringing her bishop out to take one of his pawns.
"So I was," Aiden confirmed with a nod, eying the board for a moment. Scowling at what he saw, he moved his castle. Then he looked up to meet her gaze evenly. "Thing is, I don't know where to start."
Her lips were pursed as she toyed with her pawn, finally moving it. "The beginning is usually a good place," was her dry response.
Aiden shrugged. "Fine. I don't like to disrespect the girls I know but boys are boys. So, one day, after a good deal of ribbing—" here, he moved his queen, taking her knight, "—I finally acquiesced. I told them a story; a story about Pansy King and my father."
Busying herself with making her move, Lily didn't comment at first. "But Aurelia—"
"Santoro heard a bunch of nonsense from her sister who didn't know what the bloody hell she was talking about." Aiden frowned and moved one of his pawns. "It's not my fault you lot are named after sodding flowers, is it?" he added under his breath.
Lily heard him. Crossing her arms, she huffed a little. "Well, I—"
"Nuh-uh," he cut in, wagging his finger. "You don't get to argue right now, Lil. Way I see it, there can be only one of two reasons you believed this load of nonsense. Either you really do have that little faith in me as a friend or there was more going on here than I've been aware of." He cocked a brow at her as he moved his bishop into place. "So which is it? And check."
Scowling, Lily looked down at the board and made a quick move. "I don't have to answer that."
Aiden nodded. "True, I suppose," he agreed, pushing his knight forward. "Check."
"But I suppose if I don't, you'll be inclined to think I have little-to-no faith in the strength of our friendship," she said in a long-suffering tone, moving her king out of danger.
He smirked a little. "Well, there is that," he drawled in typical rich boy fashion as he prepared his bishop for attack. "I am more interested, though, in what I think was going on in that head of yours."
Lily chose not to comment, instead concentrating on the game. After a minute of contemplation, she pulled out the big gun—her queen.
"Aren't you interested in my theory?" Aiden pressed, putting his pawn up for sacrifice.
"Not especially," she muttered, taking said pawn.
Now he smiled a little, tapping her wrist so she'd look at him. "Not even if I think the same thing?" he asked, slipping his queen behind her defenses. "Checkmate."
Lily wasn't looking at the board, though. She was standing, expression fierce. "Aiden, I swear on all that is holy, if you are screwing with me—"
That was as far as he'd let her go. "I'm not," he interrupted, making his way to her. "And, unless I've completely misread everything, I'm going to kiss you now." He smirked again as he leaned forward. "Feel free to shove me away if this is an unwanted attack."
She laughed a little at that, though it had a distinctly higher pitch than her usual.
It didn't matter. The next moment, his lips met hers and even though it was awkward and fumbling and he completely forgot where to put his hands, it was still warm and sweet and he wanted more. Much more.
They pulled apart, noses just centimeters away from each other. Wide blue eyes met wide brown and neither quite knew what to say.
Lily recovered first, clearing her throat. "Well."
"Okay," Aiden agreed without actually agreeing to anything.
She nodded. "So?"
He matched the movement. "Yeah."
They both still looked like deer caught in headlights for another moment, then Aiden reached forward and grabbed her hips the same time Lily wrapped her arms around his neck. The next instant, she was plastered against him and they were full on snogging.
Half an hour later, they were discovered by a myriad of her cousins and other, more homicidal, family members. Aiden wasn't certain he'd live through the day but with Lily's hand clasped in his he found he couldn't mind too much.
Gambit
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gambit (noun) (1) a chess opening in which a player seeks to obtain some advantage by sacrificing a pawn or piece; (2) any maneuver by which one seeks to gain an advantage; (3) a remark made to open or redirect a conversation-------------------------------------------------
Tears raced down her face as she tore her arm from her grasp. "Stop it! Just stop it!" She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "It's not funny! I won't be your joke anymore! Just stop and leave me be!"
Dumbstruck, he gaped at her for a moment. "What are you on about?" he asked, brows furrowed.
"I don't understand," she continued, ignoring his question. "I thought you were my friend but—" She pulled herself up and faced him head on. "Do you laugh when I'm not around? Amusement for you and your real mates. How could you?" Now her tear filled eyes bored holes into him.
He ran a hand through his hair, obviously bewildered. "Lily, I have no idea what you're talking about. Just—"
She waved him off, thrusting a piece of parchment toward him. "I can't believe you knew. It would be one thing if you just-just didn't feel the same but that you would string me along for so long for your own sick pleasure—how could you be so cruel?" She shook her head. "God, Aiden, I don't even know you."
His mouth opened to try and piece together some semblance of sense but she just shook her head as she slid into her car. She was gone in a screech, leaving a flurry or leaves unsettled behind her.
Blinking, he glanced down at the paper she'd thrust into his hands. There were water drops—tears, he realized belatedly—but the print was still readable.
Hugh—
I can't believe school's only been out for a week! It feels like an age. My mum's already on me about my A-Levels, though, can you believe it? You'd think we were already halfway through next year or something!
Anyway, I've not got long. I just wanted to check—are you still planning to visit Town next week? I was hoping we could get tea...without our parents. They are horrible bores, after all.
One last thing before I go; I never could work up the nerve to say anything during the year. Please don't be mad—I just didn't want to upset you. I know how much you care for Lily, even if she is a terrible nag at times.
See, my older sister mentioned she overheard Aiden Milton laughing about her—about how she's always following him like a puppy dog and obviously infatuated with him. I know they're meant to be friends but apparently he and his mates are always mocking what she says and other things behind her back.
I'm so sorry, Hugh. I honestly didn't know how to tell you. I can't imagine what I'd do if it were my sister and… well, I just hope you can forgive me for taking so long. We can chat more next week or over IM.
Aurelia Santoro xoxo
Face set in a deep scowl, Aiden raced into his parent's posh flat. Unlike Lily, he still wasn't quite old enough to get his license. Instead, he was stuck using cabs and the generosity of others. It wasn't long before he was on his father's computer, using Skype to call the Santoro household. (They summered in Italy and he highly doubted his parents would appreciate a long distance phone charge.)
A maid with dark skin and darker eyes answered the call. She appeared to have been cleaning the office. "Signore Aiden, sir," she said in a heavily accented voice. "You wish to be speaking with Signorina Giulia?"
"Yes," he barked, forgoing the usual pleasantries in his agitated state.
The woman gave a serene nod, apparently not bothered by his tone, and moved out of the webcam's range.
It wasn't long before Giulia's tanned face popped into view. "Aiden?" she questioned curiously. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this impromptu call?"
He did not spare her any pleasantries. "Lily has just been here, Giulia. She was in an absolute state because of something your sister wrote to her brother. Something you apparently shared with Aurelia about me." His expression darkened. "I just have one question: why?"
Giulia had the audacity to look innocent. "Am I not allowed to share things with my sister now? How was I to know she was friends with Hugh Dixon?" She crossed her arms. "I'm not the one who told all those stories about the 'stupid flower' and that 'pansy cow'."
Instantly his face fell. "That—you thought..." Aiden growled with irritation. "I called her that pansy cow because the stories were about Pansy King and my father!" He grit his teeth. "You insufferable busybody. Instead of coming to me or having all the facts, you just—ugh!" Throwing his hands up, he waved off her hasty apologies. "Never mind. I've got a mess to clean up."
After closing Skype, Aiden began pacing. He couldn't very well cab over to the Dixon household or wherever Lily had chosen to hide out. If her mum and dad didn't do him in, her brother and cousins would surely finish the job. No, despite his inclination to try to fix this that moment, it would probably be best to wait. Forcing himself to sit, Aiden began to formulate a plan.
-------------------------------------------------
It was late morning when Aiden called a cab take him to Lily's small suburban neighborhood. It was a short ride during which he alternated between looking anxiously at his cell phone (no missed calls from Lily) and pretending to listen to the Pakistani man ramble about traffic and weather. Soon enough, he was standing on a corner and left to his own devices.
Wandering down the lane, it wasn't hard for him to find a small park. A cursory look confirmed that it was the park. The park that Lily always chatted about. It really wasn't much to look at—just a few benches, a nice lawn with some flowers around the edges and a handful chess tables in the centre. But for the child of Robert Dixon, rabid chess enthusiast, it was enough.
He spotted her almost instantly. Her red hair shone like a beacon—a splash of color in an utterly gray world.
For a moment, he paused. An anxious hand ran through his blond hair and he considered running away. But, no. He'd made it this far, he wasn't going to call another cab (or worse, one of his parents) to return home with his tail between his legs. Not without at least speaking with her first.
Steeling himself, Aiden marched forward. As he closed in on her, he could see Lily was waiting for another opponent. He gave the evil eye to anyone that even glanced her way and swooped into the seat across from her.
Lily's gaze snapped up, and she froze. "Aiden?" Her mouth formed a thin line as she started to stand.
Covering her hand with his, his gray eyes pleaded with her. "Please, Lil. Hear me out."
Maybe it was his sincerity. Maybe it was the dark circles under his eyes from a night of restless sleep. Maybe it was nothing more than some kind of morbid curiosity. Whatever the reason, though, she gave a small nod and sat again. "Fine," she said stiffly. "But, if you want to sit there, you're playing."
"Fine," he agreed. Because he was the challenger, he let her make the first move.
They played in silence for at least ten minutes before Lily's irritation outweighed any lingering mortification. "You were going to say something?" she prompted, bringing her bishop out to take one of his pawns.
"So I was," Aiden confirmed with a nod, eying the board for a moment. Scowling at what he saw, he moved his castle. Then he looked up to meet her gaze evenly. "Thing is, I don't know where to start."
Her lips were pursed as she toyed with her pawn, finally moving it. "The beginning is usually a good place," was her dry response.
Aiden shrugged. "Fine. I don't like to disrespect the girls I know but boys are boys. So, one day, after a good deal of ribbing—" here, he moved his queen, taking her knight, "—I finally acquiesced. I told them a story; a story about Pansy King and my father."
Busying herself with making her move, Lily didn't comment at first. "But Aurelia—"
"Santoro heard a bunch of nonsense from her sister who didn't know what the bloody hell she was talking about." Aiden frowned and moved one of his pawns. "It's not my fault you lot are named after sodding flowers, is it?" he added under his breath.
Lily heard him. Crossing her arms, she huffed a little. "Well, I—"
"Nuh-uh," he cut in, wagging his finger. "You don't get to argue right now, Lil. Way I see it, there can be only one of two reasons you believed this load of nonsense. Either you really do have that little faith in me as a friend or there was more going on here than I've been aware of." He cocked a brow at her as he moved his bishop into place. "So which is it? And check."
Scowling, Lily looked down at the board and made a quick move. "I don't have to answer that."
Aiden nodded. "True, I suppose," he agreed, pushing his knight forward. "Check."
"But I suppose if I don't, you'll be inclined to think I have little-to-no faith in the strength of our friendship," she said in a long-suffering tone, moving her king out of danger.
He smirked a little. "Well, there is that," he drawled in typical rich boy fashion as he prepared his bishop for attack. "I am more interested, though, in what I think was going on in that head of yours."
Lily chose not to comment, instead concentrating on the game. After a minute of contemplation, she pulled out the big gun—her queen.
"Aren't you interested in my theory?" Aiden pressed, putting his pawn up for sacrifice.
"Not especially," she muttered, taking said pawn.
Now he smiled a little, tapping her wrist so she'd look at him. "Not even if I think the same thing?" he asked, slipping his queen behind her defenses. "Checkmate."
Lily wasn't looking at the board, though. She was standing, expression fierce. "Aiden, I swear on all that is holy, if you are screwing with me—"
That was as far as he'd let her go. "I'm not," he interrupted, making his way to her. "And, unless I've completely misread everything, I'm going to kiss you now." He smirked again as he leaned forward. "Feel free to shove me away if this is an unwanted attack."
She laughed a little at that, though it had a distinctly higher pitch than her usual.
It didn't matter. The next moment, his lips met hers and even though it was awkward and fumbling and he completely forgot where to put his hands, it was still warm and sweet and he wanted more. Much more.
They pulled apart, noses just centimeters away from each other. Wide blue eyes met wide brown and neither quite knew what to say.
Lily recovered first, clearing her throat. "Well."
"Okay," Aiden agreed without actually agreeing to anything.
She nodded. "So?"
He matched the movement. "Yeah."
They both still looked like deer caught in headlights for another moment, then Aiden reached forward and grabbed her hips the same time Lily wrapped her arms around his neck. The next instant, she was plastered against him and they were full on snogging.
Half an hour later, they were discovered by a myriad of her cousins and other, more homicidal, family members. Aiden wasn't certain he'd live through the day but with Lily's hand clasped in his he found he couldn't mind too much.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
12. with downcast eyes; there's more to living than being alive
Notes: I wrote this a few years ago and recently happened upon it again. Cleaned it up some and... I dunno, I kind of like it. Sort of high school drama-y but with deeper undertones. Hasn't been edited (at least not recently) by anyone but me. Cheers!
It was supposed to be everything she'd ever dreamed of. It was supposed to be perfect. She'd spent so much time dreaming of it—of him. Of their moment together. And then to get it—get him—and for real… It should have been prefect. Didn't she deserve it? After all her pining and wasted time, all the hurt and crushed spirits; why couldn't the real thing live up to her ideal? Just this once? The pedestal in her mind wasn't that high, really.
But it wasn't perfect, not even close. It was better than anything she'd found before, though. Not perfect but still… good. Nice. Worthwhile. Sometimes she'd forget he was hers, just for a moment. Then it'd hit her, just like it had when he asked her to prom, and she'd wonder how she'd gotten so lucky. Even if it wasn't perfect, somehow he was still hers. And it felt like she'd hit the jackpot and won the lottery—at the same time. It was amazing. Wonderful. Almost perfect.
She should've known it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. Even when he was hers he was never really hers. He never really belonged to anyone, not for too long. He always had his eyes open, just in case. Like he didn't want to miss something better. Someone better. She should've known it would only be a matter of time before someone new caught his attention. It was his nature. But, true to her own way, she'd been drawn in like a moth to a flame. Too blinded by the flame to feel the fire.
It'd been no surprise (to anyone other than herself) when she'd ended up just like the moth: burned. It should've been perfect. She wasn't stupid. She'd always known wouldn't last forever. But if it couldn't last, why couldn't it live up to her perfect dreams? If she was going to have her heart broken by him yet again, didn't she deserve at least that? This had been her chance to live her dream. And, if she had, maybe she'd have had the memory to comfort her on the lonely nights that followed his leaving.
She didn't, though. There was no comfort. But, before too long, those nights began to be fewer and farther between. She still had her friends and, as luck would have it, a new (super cute) transfer student with a really adorable accent who dug her hairstyle. So maybe it still hurt to see him walking down the hall, arm slung around Girlfriend #53's neck; she could handle it. And, slowly but surely, that empty feeling she'd been sure she'd never be able to fill again faded.
Until one day it was gone, just like that. As if it'd never really been there in the first place. She'd moved on and without even really noticing it. Suddenly, her smile seemed just a little bit brighter. Her steps a little bit bouncier. And her memory of being with him? It was just that: a memory. Imperfect as always. He'd done her a great service, she decided, by being his imperfect self. (Not that he could be any other way but still. She could finally appreciate it.)
Because those imperfections—all those little things that made their time together not quite as special as she'd wished and hoped and dreamed—without them, she might've never been able to get over him. She might've spent her whole life broken and depressed over the boy she couldn't make love her enough to be her perfect boyfriend forever instead of finding a way to move on. Move forward. Worse, she might've missed out on other great guys (like Serge) because of it.
It hadn't been perfect, not even close. And she wouldn't have had it any other way.
Perfect
It was supposed to be everything she'd ever dreamed of. It was supposed to be perfect. She'd spent so much time dreaming of it—of him. Of their moment together. And then to get it—get him—and for real… It should have been prefect. Didn't she deserve it? After all her pining and wasted time, all the hurt and crushed spirits; why couldn't the real thing live up to her ideal? Just this once? The pedestal in her mind wasn't that high, really.
But it wasn't perfect, not even close. It was better than anything she'd found before, though. Not perfect but still… good. Nice. Worthwhile. Sometimes she'd forget he was hers, just for a moment. Then it'd hit her, just like it had when he asked her to prom, and she'd wonder how she'd gotten so lucky. Even if it wasn't perfect, somehow he was still hers. And it felt like she'd hit the jackpot and won the lottery—at the same time. It was amazing. Wonderful. Almost perfect.
She should've known it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. Even when he was hers he was never really hers. He never really belonged to anyone, not for too long. He always had his eyes open, just in case. Like he didn't want to miss something better. Someone better. She should've known it would only be a matter of time before someone new caught his attention. It was his nature. But, true to her own way, she'd been drawn in like a moth to a flame. Too blinded by the flame to feel the fire.
It'd been no surprise (to anyone other than herself) when she'd ended up just like the moth: burned. It should've been perfect. She wasn't stupid. She'd always known wouldn't last forever. But if it couldn't last, why couldn't it live up to her perfect dreams? If she was going to have her heart broken by him yet again, didn't she deserve at least that? This had been her chance to live her dream. And, if she had, maybe she'd have had the memory to comfort her on the lonely nights that followed his leaving.
She didn't, though. There was no comfort. But, before too long, those nights began to be fewer and farther between. She still had her friends and, as luck would have it, a new (super cute) transfer student with a really adorable accent who dug her hairstyle. So maybe it still hurt to see him walking down the hall, arm slung around Girlfriend #53's neck; she could handle it. And, slowly but surely, that empty feeling she'd been sure she'd never be able to fill again faded.
Until one day it was gone, just like that. As if it'd never really been there in the first place. She'd moved on and without even really noticing it. Suddenly, her smile seemed just a little bit brighter. Her steps a little bit bouncier. And her memory of being with him? It was just that: a memory. Imperfect as always. He'd done her a great service, she decided, by being his imperfect self. (Not that he could be any other way but still. She could finally appreciate it.)
Because those imperfections—all those little things that made their time together not quite as special as she'd wished and hoped and dreamed—without them, she might've never been able to get over him. She might've spent her whole life broken and depressed over the boy she couldn't make love her enough to be her perfect boyfriend forever instead of finding a way to move on. Move forward. Worse, she might've missed out on other great guys (like Serge) because of it.
It hadn't been perfect, not even close. And she wouldn't have had it any other way.
11. was this over before... before it ever began?
Note: Just a little something I had an idea for a few years back. I'm not 100% sure I like the ending (despite the fact that I've reworked it several times) but that's all right. Not edited by anyone but me. Um, yeah. Cheers!
They were friends for a long time—years and years. They were both five when they met for the first time, battling it out on the handball court. She was never any good. He was one of the best on the playground. A few lucky hits one day and she managed to unseat him. It was then that he grudgingly admitted she was all right (for a girl). Back then, it was more their parent's friendship that kept them together.
At some point, though, they realized they actually got along (when they weren't insulting each other). Friendship was easy for them. They fell into a pattern of comfort. He'd steal her fries at lunch and she'd copy his German homework. Sometimes it seemed like they shared everything—friends and schoolwork, family and vacations, even secrets. But that was okay, they were comfortable together. Good friends (and even better partners in crime). It worked for them. It was natural. Those days, it felt like nothing could tear them apart.
Until something did. His name was Chris and he was her first boyfriend. Like more first loves, it eclipsed everything, even her friendships. Not long after Chris popped onto the scene, Denise became his first girlfriend. Denise was followed by Vanessa, then Lilly, Natalia and Jesse. At some point along the way, Chris was replaced by John. They drifted apart but always ended up back together again. It was never a question between them. It just kind of… was.
Then one day, when they were sprawled in his backyard, he asked her something he'd never asked before. He looked her in the eye and said, "Why not me?"
She didn't understand at first. Their friends had always teased them. But it was just a joke. They'd never even talked about it. She tried to answer, but she couldn't. She wasn't even sure where to start. So she offered the only thing she could think of: "You never asked." So he asked and their routine became something new.
They weren't the kind of couple that inspired love songs or an excess of gossip or interest. They were friends first and a couple second. But that worked for them too. It was comfortable and they were happy. It probably would've lasted forever if she let it. She could've been content if she stayed. He was a nice boy turned into a good man. One of her best friends. She loved him with all her heart. In her soul, she knew she always had.
But she wanted more. She dreamed of more. She deserved more. So she made herself a plan. She made decisions. She chose a life that she wanted for herself. It was time to be independent. To stand on her own two feet and see where they took her. She couldn't do that with him beside her, no matter how much she loved him. Because she did love him and it wasn't enough. And nothing he could do could change that.
She knew it was cowardly to just leave. She knew he deserved better. But she was weak, and she knew that a few well-chosen words from him would be enough to stop her from ever leaving. It still felt wrong writing him a Dear John letter (if it could be called that, being half lyric quotes and sentence fragments scratched on the back of a postcard) to say good-bye. She wished it could've been different. That she could've had one last kiss. (Not that she deserved it.)
It was strange, leaving everything she knew behind. Venturing out on her own, trying to find what it was she'd been missing. It was so hard. But when she got there—when she reached that place on her own—it felt good. It felt so good.
It was like she finally got it. All those sappy chick flicks like The Butterfly Effect, The Break-Up, and even Bedazzled finally made sense to her. Loving someone meant putting them first, even at your own expense. That was the one thing she hadn't been able to give.
But that was okay. She built herself a life that she loved living from the deepest part of her soul. She didn't need anyone else to do that for her. It was her and her alone, becoming the person she wanted to be. It felt right.
Sometimes she still thought of him and sighed. She wondered if he thought of her, too. It was selfish but she hoped he did. She hoped the thought left him with a smile. Because the memory of him—of them, as they'd been together—always brought a bittersweet one to her lips.
Bittersweet
They were friends for a long time—years and years. They were both five when they met for the first time, battling it out on the handball court. She was never any good. He was one of the best on the playground. A few lucky hits one day and she managed to unseat him. It was then that he grudgingly admitted she was all right (for a girl). Back then, it was more their parent's friendship that kept them together.
At some point, though, they realized they actually got along (when they weren't insulting each other). Friendship was easy for them. They fell into a pattern of comfort. He'd steal her fries at lunch and she'd copy his German homework. Sometimes it seemed like they shared everything—friends and schoolwork, family and vacations, even secrets. But that was okay, they were comfortable together. Good friends (and even better partners in crime). It worked for them. It was natural. Those days, it felt like nothing could tear them apart.
Until something did. His name was Chris and he was her first boyfriend. Like more first loves, it eclipsed everything, even her friendships. Not long after Chris popped onto the scene, Denise became his first girlfriend. Denise was followed by Vanessa, then Lilly, Natalia and Jesse. At some point along the way, Chris was replaced by John. They drifted apart but always ended up back together again. It was never a question between them. It just kind of… was.
Then one day, when they were sprawled in his backyard, he asked her something he'd never asked before. He looked her in the eye and said, "Why not me?"
She didn't understand at first. Their friends had always teased them. But it was just a joke. They'd never even talked about it. She tried to answer, but she couldn't. She wasn't even sure where to start. So she offered the only thing she could think of: "You never asked." So he asked and their routine became something new.
They weren't the kind of couple that inspired love songs or an excess of gossip or interest. They were friends first and a couple second. But that worked for them too. It was comfortable and they were happy. It probably would've lasted forever if she let it. She could've been content if she stayed. He was a nice boy turned into a good man. One of her best friends. She loved him with all her heart. In her soul, she knew she always had.
But she wanted more. She dreamed of more. She deserved more. So she made herself a plan. She made decisions. She chose a life that she wanted for herself. It was time to be independent. To stand on her own two feet and see where they took her. She couldn't do that with him beside her, no matter how much she loved him. Because she did love him and it wasn't enough. And nothing he could do could change that.
She knew it was cowardly to just leave. She knew he deserved better. But she was weak, and she knew that a few well-chosen words from him would be enough to stop her from ever leaving. It still felt wrong writing him a Dear John letter (if it could be called that, being half lyric quotes and sentence fragments scratched on the back of a postcard) to say good-bye. She wished it could've been different. That she could've had one last kiss. (Not that she deserved it.)
It was strange, leaving everything she knew behind. Venturing out on her own, trying to find what it was she'd been missing. It was so hard. But when she got there—when she reached that place on her own—it felt good. It felt so good.
It was like she finally got it. All those sappy chick flicks like The Butterfly Effect, The Break-Up, and even Bedazzled finally made sense to her. Loving someone meant putting them first, even at your own expense. That was the one thing she hadn't been able to give.
But that was okay. She built herself a life that she loved living from the deepest part of her soul. She didn't need anyone else to do that for her. It was her and her alone, becoming the person she wanted to be. It felt right.
Sometimes she still thought of him and sighed. She wondered if he thought of her, too. It was selfish but she hoped he did. She hoped the thought left him with a smile. Because the memory of him—of them, as they'd been together—always brought a bittersweet one to her lips.
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