Marks

People don't realize all the marks they leave on other people's lives. It can be as innocent as a crush in the first grade - a small smile and a faint blushing memory. Or it can be something as ominous as an absent misery - a friend that you couldn't win or a bully that was playing a game that you had no chance of winning - no clue of even the rules.

In both cases, the person doesn't even know.

Isn't that remarkable?

An Accident of Wyrd

She was still beautiful, no matter the years that had passed. Her slightly rounded stomach had compacted into a hard stretch of abdomen that she almost absently bared to the world, and her hair was now a gleaming auburn, the red highlights that I remembered having stared at in class now dominant over plain brown strands. But those were the only obvious differences. Apart from that, all I could discern was a sort of glitter to her that hadn’t been there before.

Perhaps I stand corrected. She wasn’t beautiful anymore. She was gorgeous, my own personal fantasy, both then and now, sashaying past me in a restaurant, led by the salivating host to the booth in front of mine.

“Thank you, sir,” she drawled flirtatiously as she slid into the seat opposite me, nothing but two tables and two low slung benches between us. Her voice was more like singing than speaking, tinged with the magnolia trees that stood in her yard back when I knew her. It went straight to my groin.

The poor host flushed, as affected as I was, and stammered out that her waiter would be with her shortly - and then walked away kicking himself for missing such an opportunity.

I was staring at her, I knew. I couldn’t seem to help it. I watched as she gave a precursory glance to the menu and then pulled a book out of her purse. I smiled at that. Guys might stare at her now, but still she read. I squinted at the title: Social Intelligence, by Daniel Goleman. Interesting; the last time I’d seen her, her thing had been espionage. But that was so long ago….

“James!” A shrill female voice slapped me across the face. “James Sheridan! Are you listening to me?”

I saw her glance up, startled, before I dragged my attention back to my date, a girl who had seemed enormously attractive only minutes before.

Katherine glared back at me, her lower lip pushed out in a pout.

“Would you stop staring at that barely dressed whore?” she demanded, not losing any volume despite her subject’s proximity. “She WANTS you to stare at her trailer trash self!” She snorted. “Probably has, like, SO many STD’s!”

My mouth dropped open to defend that magical girl whom I’d known so long ago. How dare this poor excuse for a woman deride her!

“Pardon me.” A caress of a voice sounded, and we both turned to see her standing at the end of our table, her strained smile directed more at Katherine than at me. “Since you’ve caught me out as a whore, I feel I might as well proposition your date directly.” She nodded poison-sweetly before turning to me.

“How ‘bout it, darling? Want to go somewhere for dessert?”

I bit back shock. She was outrageous, utterly inappropriate…. My sense of propriety shuddered while my libido cheered.

It was rather wonderful.

But I’d only just managed to build up my social standing to the point where I was generally accepted. And Katherine was one of the popular set. If I ditched her to talk to this vision from my past, I’d be screwed over socially; All those years of hard work would be lost.

Then she winked at me, and I thought of all the fun we’d had when we were younger. I thought of her in a modest one-piece bathing suit by my pool, of her reading the eulogy when my first guinea pig died, of her making carbless brownies since she knew I was on the Atkins Diet, of her chilling on my bed as I played the Sims, of her perched in a magnolia tree, her underwear showing beneath her skirt.

And then I looked up and saw her as she was now, her legs long beneath tight denim jeans, sophisticated in high heels and a hand-sewn crop top, her hair that classy auburn, and a funky pair of earrings dangling from her lobes.

“No…” I said almost as if outside myself. “I’m sorry.”

Her lips parted in surprise, but I had to continue on; the words wanted saying.

“I’m sorry for not saying yes the first time you asked. I’m sorry for running away - from you, from me. I’m sorry for not returning your calls. I’m sorry for not telling the truth.” I paused, surprised by my honesty, and the final phrase in my head. “I’m sorry for growing old before you.”

I looked back up and she was staring at me, brows knit together, head tilted to the side. And then, slowly, she nodded.

“I never forgot you, you know?” she said, all bold joking and innuendos gone. “I’ve been looking for you, really, every time I come to this town.”

I inclined my head in return.

“I never forgot either,” I admitted softly.

“The past is over though, huh?” she said, smiling wryly, sadly. “You never wonder what if?”

“All the time.”

She looked perplexed at that.

“Then why…?”

I shrugged. I didn’t really have an answer, not logically.

“Neither one of us is the same person we were back then. That 'what if' can’t be answered.”

She nodded again, now understanding, turning back to her booth and grabbing her purse.

“Goodbye, James,” she murmured, leaning down and kissing me, moving away before I was quite sure what had happened.

I watched her backside as she left, gliding out the restaurant doors, easy and confident, not looking back.

“What the hell?!” Katherine’s confused and angry inquiry broke me from the reverie. “Who was that?!”

I smiled at her, drinking in the sight of the most popular girl in school sitting across from me.

“Oh, just someone I used to know. No one important.”

She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Well, that was super weird.” Her brows knit. “How’d you get associated with HER?”

“Accident of wyrd,” I picked up my silverware as our waiter set our food down, winking jovially. “You’re on purpose.”

A Brush With Forever

This feels like a brush with forever, as I gaze at the rose you handed me when you first walked in the side door. It smells amazing, like your hoodie, the one I'm wearing and the one my parents are rolling their eyes at, just relieved it's not Clemson. (Where is Dooblin, anyways?)

I can feel our hearts beating together, and it is breathtaking, earth-shattering, a revelation. We really could, we really might be... How dangerous a thought to have, how unfortunate a fantasy to fantasize. (You, me, a cat, and a family, but neither one of us works at the button factory.)

But I have the thought, I fantasize the fantasy, and it is sweetly tantalizing.

This feels like a brush with forever.

(I'm in love with you.)

Complaints for No Reason

When was the last time I took to the sky, just for the sheer possibility-thrill of it? You know, I can't quite recall what that was, let alone when. (These days I'm all work and no play, because play gets punished.)

There's always something I've got to do. Work on my pirouettes, start that new diet, do my homework, practice my clarinet, burn that CD, create that mix, cook dinner, read a book, answer questions, spend time with my boyfriend, more time with my friends. Oh, yes... And be happy while doing it. (I think I can manage all but that last one.)

But, all that said, I'm pretty cheerful. I'm busy, my grades are good, I have lots of energy in between falling asleep standing up, I'm surrounded by people I love and care about, and I always have something to do.

I don't know why I was complaining.

I Refuse to Say "Horrible"

I am so frustrated. I don't even have the words for it. It's either write or cry, since between myself and the sub, I've been screwed over. And there's still an interminable stretch from now to freedom. (I seem to have a small fixation on clocks.)

I probably should have stayed in bed this morning. I debated it for a good nine minutes, I'll admit. I felt all skewed, off balance, nauseated. But I got up, got dressed, popped my pill, and came here. (I have the dumbest ideas sometimes.)

Now I'm hungry, revolted by the egg-cheese mutant thing that the cafeteria attempted to pass off as food and lost in negativity. (Yes, this entry is an indulgence.) I tried meditating to calm myself down, but that damn sub had to decide I was sleeping. I could do the homework I passed over last night, but I don't have the accursed accepted values, so I'm stranded there.

Oh, bollucks. I left my algebra book at Academic Team practice. I can't get edible food AND the book.

I picture banging my head against my desk.

It's going to be a long, long, day. I refuse to say horrible.

(Just yet.)