“Dammit,” I sighed, sweeping back my hair. I slammed the trunk of my car and fumed, still turning over the events of the day in my head. Earlier in the morning I opened a letter from my college, and it said exactly what I thought it would: my scholarship wasn’t being renewed. It went on to explain that my grade point average was too low to maintain the scholarship. There wasn’t much I could do but go back to my parents’ house.
The idea left a sour taste on my tongue.
I barely packed anything and mostly threw my belongings into the back of my old-ass station wagon, getting ready to drive away from the embarrassment that was my school career as fast as I could.
I climbed in and was thankful that the aged leather didn’t set my thighs and hands on fire.
My car started up on the first try, which was another thing to be thankful for. Last week it was being a lot more temperamental. I’m glad it was something to help my mood out. I swung out of the parking lot and made my way toward the highway.
As I drove down the road, it dawned on me that I should have called my parents to let them know I was coming. But would it have really made a difference? I rolled down my window, letting the greasy smell of my college town air out of my car. Both of my parents had been drunk last time I saw I was in town. I didn’t expect that part of them to have changed. My slipping grades certainly wouldn’t sober them up.
I daydreamed, thinking of what I was going to do with my time off. I told myself that I would just reapply in the fall, but I knew this was a delusion. Not only had my grades slipped, but my motivation to keep going as well. Maybe I should try getting in touch with one of my friends.
Aaron came to mind, and I smiled. I knew he had graduated on time and headed back to Maine. While we never got together in high school, I always had a feeling things might go in that direction. Maybe I would find out when I got home.
With the sweet breeze tickling me and the drone of the highway suffocating the sound of my old car, I was given some peace. At least for the next four hours.
I dreaded talking to my dad the most. He always had a way of going on with lecturing me, as if he had the solution to all my problems. Eventually I stopped showing up, then I stopped calling. All told, I don’t think I had been back home in three years.
I squeezed my steering wheel, turning my knuckles white. I didn’t even have a roommate to say goodbye to. The thought of sharing with someone just didn’t sit right with me. What if they stole something? Maybe I was a little bit of a shut in.
***
Hours passed, even though it felt a lot longer. The trees edging the side of the highway all blurred together, with small pockets of color from spring. There weren’t many other cars on the highway, just some truckers lazily feeling out the limits of their lanes.
I ran out of music to listen to, so I shut the radio off. I was sick of listening to The Beatles for what felt like the hundredth time. The landmarks around the highway soon became more familiar, and I started thinking about the last time I had made this drive.
Thanksgiving dinner, freshman year. It didn’t go very well. My mom was drunk and my dad gave me a slurred monologue about how bad his life was. It ended with him telling me I shouldn’t ever complain about anything. After we screamed at each other, I holed myself up in my room for the rest of the weekend. I returned back to the college that Saturday.
I hoped things would go better this time.
***
Pulling off the highway, I headed down the hauntingly familiar streets to my parents’ house. I took a detour through the heart of downtown, wanting to see if any buildings had been knocked down. I mean, there were at least two or three that were crumbling when I left, so I hoped the town had grown a little.
April was in full bloom. Delicate pink flowers were bursting all over the trees down Main Street. I slung my arm out the window. The owner of a local flower shop waved to me. I smiled, waving back, sure he didn’t recognize me.
Most of my friends from high school had moved out to the west, saying, “They were sick and tired of the east coast.” I wish I could have followed them, but the only college that accepted me with a large enough scholarship, was the University of Maine.
Aaron was all too lucky to get to go out west, to some college in Idaho or Montana or somewhere. I don’t remember the name, but I remember thinking the pictures of the campus looked nice.
After a couple minutes of driving, I found my parents’ neighborhood.
This would be temporary, wouldn’t it? Otherwise it would be my home, not my parents’ place. In another old dilapidated suburb that was built in the 1970s, with weird colors and even stranger houses.
I pulled into the driveway, my car lightly screeching to a stop. I leaned over my steering wheel and looked up at the house.
Where I expected to find a broken down house with worn windows and thirsty grass, I found an impressive house I barely recognized. I glanced at the house number with some disbelief. I knew this had to be it, but had my parents moved after all?
The last time I was here, the house was in only what I would call shambles. Back then, the grass was patchy and dead in spots, the trees unpruned and wiry. The paint was fading and the wooden shingled roof decaying. Now, it looked almost decadent in comparison. A thick and luscious lawn, fresh yellow paint, and a brand new roof. I couldn’t help but gawk at the sight of it all.
Maybe it should have eased my fears, but seeing the house fixed up only made my throat tighter. Had they moved and not told me?
I turned my car off and climbed out. I cautiously made my way to the front door.
I fumbled for my key and, to my surprise, the lock turned. I walked in and saw that while the outside looked fantastic, the inside was still the same. That lingering smell of smoke permeated the air, discoloring the white walls to a pale yellow, and clinging to my clothes. Same old, same old.
“Hello! Anyone here?”
I shrugged off one of my bags, letting it crumple to the floor.
I heard the sound of bare feet on hardwood, and my dad turned the corner of the entryway, looking confused.
“Caitlin? Is that you?” my dad said. When his eyes caught me, he rushed up and hugged me, taking me in his arms. I hugged him back, a little surprised at his strength. His voice was clear and even. “I didn’t know you were coming, did you try calling?”
I wheezed. “Yes...” I lied.
He pulled back and held me at arm’s length, giving me a gentle squeeze. He had aged, no doubt, but he looked younger. His eyes didn’t look as exhausted, and they were clear and bright. His clothes looked neater, less rumpled. If someone had told me he wasn’t my dad, I would’ve believed them.
“Cat, you’re looking good, but I shouldn’t be surprised.”
He leaned over and picked up my bag. A necklace slipped out of his shirt and dangled in front of him. It had a medallion on it. He chuckled a little.
“Dad you look great, did you lose weight? What happened?”
“I got sober, that’s what happened.” He grabbed the medallion and held it up for me. “I’ve been sober for two years now.”
“Oh my god,” I covered my mouth in disbelief. “That’s incredible!”
He laughed, his cheeks creasing with dimples. “It is a long story, and I’ll have to tell you another time. Do you want to see your mom?”
I nodded. He started walking down the hall, calling out my mom’s name: “Tammy! Cat’s home!”
He pushed open the door to my parents’ bedroom and I saw my mom laying in bed, looking groggy and tired. Her night stand had a couple of empty beer cans on it.
My heart sank. My dad might have been sober, but my mom wasn’t.
I bit my lip, hoping I wouldn’t have to see her like this.
“Danny what are you yelling for? Is Cat actually here?” my mom said.
“Hi mom,” I said.
She lifted her arm, beckoning me to come closer. While my dad looked younger, she looked a lot older.
I sat on the bed next to her, and she touched my arm with a sigh. “I’m glad you’re home.” She let out a dry, hacking cough. I put her inhaler in her hand. A quick pump and sharp intake of air later, she was okay.
That made one of us.
***
After our bittersweet reunion, I dashed back out to my car to start moving. It took a couple of trips, but I managed to drop the last box of junk in the center of my room before I broke a sweat.
Standing there, I realized how eerie it felt to be home again: the same lightly washed color that I had left it when I went to college. Three walls were painted a deep red, while the last was painted a blue. The objects littering my dressers and sheets were things I decided were for “high-school” me, and didn’t belong in my life anymore.
Sitting on the bed the sheets and springs sank with their characteristic moan. I was used to them from sleeping in the same bed since I was eleven. Even then, it was a hand-me down from my parents.
I picked up my alarm clock and corrected the time The face of it was covered with dust. Everything in the room was really, muting the colors of the dressers and bed sheets. It’d all have to be washed, which was agitating.
I frowned. I really wanted to be anywhere but here.
“I should call Aaron,” I mumbled to myself. I slipped my phone out of my purse and dialed his number, hoping it was still the same.
“Hello?” Aaron's voice came loud and clear.
“Oh thank god you answered.” I leaned against my bed, flattening my pillows.
“Cat? Is that you? What you are doing?” I could hear his TV through the phone.
“I was going to ask you, are you still in Bangor?”
“Yes...” he hesitated, and I heard the TV turn off, “are you? Do you want to get together? Go to a bar or something?”
“That’d be fantastic. Can you come pick me up? I just drove from UM, my legs feel like bricks.” I absentmindedly rubbed my knees, the chill of the house getting to them.
“Totally, I’ll be there real soon — you’re still down by Pine Creek right?”
“Right.” He hung up. Goodbyes weren’t really his thing, never had been.
I tossed my phone aside and closed my eyes, wondering how the night would turn out.
***
Aaron came to my house and knocked in his usual way: three quick raps. I darted down the hall and let him in.
“Aaron, I can’t even remember how many times I’ve told you that one cares if you just come in.” He looked good though, somehow pulling off a denim jacket. He looked a little stronger too, but I didn’t comment on it.
He brushed something off his sleeve and stared at the ground for a moment, like he was watching dust fall off his jacket. He met my eyes.
“I just can’t get over the feeling that I’m being rude,” he finally said.
“You’re not,” I said, “if anything, you’re being rude by ignoring me.”
“Okay, sorry, Cay.”
The hair on the back of my neck raised, “‘Cay,’” I repeated. “Don’t call me that, I never let anyone call me that.”
Aaron chuckled a little, a bit of nervousness entering his voice. “Why not? I think it’s cute.”
I waved his compliment away. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t like it.”
His eyes flashed. “Oh, I get it.” He continued, “you only let your boyfriends call you that.”
I corrected him, suddenly growing a bit agitated. “No. Only one person has ever called me that, and I told him not to either, he just didn’t listen to me is all.”
He nodded and stared at me. “Good thing I’m here, then, you do need a drink. Let’s go.”
***
We headed out, he was more familiar with the town than I was at this point, especially in the “adult world.” He chose a seedy place near the edge of downtown. When I didn’t recognize the name, he assured me it was fairly new.
We walked in after getting our IDs manhandled by the bouncer, who stared a little too long at me as we brushed past. The place was authentic, a light fog grazing the floor from the machines, and a thundering bass pounding at us from all directions. A small dance floor had a bunch of couples younger than us grinding on each other, and I smirked at the idea of even dancing. Let alone meeting anyone in this town who I’d care to grind on. Maybe Aaron?
We sat down at a little two person table at the edge of the dance-floor, facing the bar. The barstool’s feet wobbled and the table was sticky. I didn’t complain.
“That bouncer must’ve liked you,” Aaron said. “How did he know we weren’t together?”
“Maybe he didn’t care. I saw him staring at me too, real classy of him.”
He laughed, “Well he is a bouncer.” I always liked his laugh. His eyes would crinkle right up, and it was impossible not to join him. But there was a reason why we never got together. No energy, no spark.
I waved, catching the attention of who appeared to be the only server that night. She looked frazzled and exhausted. She saw me and did her best to maneuver through the small venue, dodging between drunk customers and the like.
“What can I get you two?” she asked, almost gasping for breath.
Aaron smiled at her, “Busy tonight huh?”
“You wouldn’t believe it.”
“We’ll try to be easy then,” Aaron said, giving me a quick glance. “I’ll have a whiskey and coke.”
The waitress scribbled, and I almost blurted out my order before she could even look at me. “I’ll have a margarita.”
“Good, I’ll be right back.” The waitress disappeared.
“Ugh, one of those?” Aaron said, shriveling his nose. “You know they’re premixed here. Besides,” he leaned back in his chair. “I like something a little harder.”
I shrugged. “I haven’t had one in a long time! I think I’m allowed that much.” I slouched a little, trying to relax. “How have you been anyway? I was surprised when you told me you were moving back to Bangor.”
He nodded. “I didn’t have a choice. My student debt kind of forced my hand. I’m almost jealous that you aren’t done yet. My waiting period was up last year, and now I gotta pay the big bucks.”
“Don’t be. I wasn’t studying for anything great anyway — Theater. You were doing something science-related weren’t you...? Biology?” The waitress came back, pausing our conversation to hand out our drinks. Aaron paid with cash.
After the waitress thanked him for the tip, he looked at me. “Environmental Science. That was what I cared about,” he corrected me. I picked up my drink and took a sip, savoring the salt. Aaron chuckled.
I swallowed after thinking for a moment. “I actually took one an entry level environmental science class right before I left... I liked it.”
Aaron nodded. “It’s interesting stuff. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you were majoring in Theater though. It doesn’t seem like it fits you very well. Anyway,” he pushed away from the table, interrupting the conversation. “I’ll be right back.”
He was good at that, just disappearing in the middle of a conversation. When we first met, it took me a while to get used to that particular habit of his.
I scanned the crowd, having tuned out the roar of the club. The flashing lights were dancing over the ceilings, passing over the tight clothes of the other party goers. Most everyone looked pretty plain. I thought about my impromptu call to Aaron. What was he thinking when I called him out of the blue like that? It had been a while since we talked, and maybe something could blossom from that?
No one interesting was dancing, so I looked to the bar, taking big sips of my margarita. When I saw something that made my heart stop in my throat.
Hugh Evans.
The liquid in my mouth threatened to choke me. I couldn’t believe I recognized him so quickly. But that pang I felt in my chest was sincere, and as real as it got. My eyes widened, and I felt my palm started to sweat as my heart raced. I forgot myself.
Had it really been five years? Even from that across the room, he didn’t look like he had aged at all since we were teenagers. Of course, he had always been older than me, that was part of his charm. He spotted me between the passing people around us and approached me. I looked around for Aaron. Still gone. How convenient for him. Maybe it was better this way.
I slammed my drink, trying to act like I didn’t see him. He didn’t seem to fall for it. The whole room felt like it went silent.
“Cat,” Hugh whispered. “I wasn’t sure if that was you.”
I nodded, swallowing my drink. I was wrong too, he had aged, but gracefully. And not just physically either, I could already see the subtle changes in his demeanor, the slight lines on his face developing.
“It’s good to see you, Hugh,” I stood like a plank on end, barely staying upright. He must’ve noticed, moving forward and embracing me. Oh god that felt good.
I crumpled his shirt under my hands, holding him against me. He smelled like nostalgia, that faint and fleeting sensation. And briefly, I forgot why we broke up in the first place.
He pulled away and smiled, his eyes crinkling ever-so-slightly, that wiseness creeping in.
I glanced down at his hands, scanning for obstacles, something. This man couldn’t possibly be single.
A gold band hugged his ring finger. I knew it.
“Oh! You’re married?” I glanced back down into my glass.
He held up his finger, and his face went blank for a moment. I felt inappropriate.
“No, I’m not married anymore. It’s kind of a long story, but I guess you could say I keep it for sentimental reasons.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure how to reply. While we had been together for a while when we were younger, it had been too long to act as if five years hadn’t vanished before our eyes. I picked up my glass, lifting it to my mouth. Empty. I’d forgotten.
“Hey, we should catch up sometime though, I didn’t even know you were back in the area,” he said.
I set my glass down, and turned to him. “Yeah, I’m back from school for a little bit, while I get my feet back on the ground.”
“‘Back on’? What happened?”
“That is also kind of a long story,” I said. I twirled my glass in my hand, hoping I could make a drink appear. Where was that waitress?
“Well, maybe we could swap long stories over lunch, catch up again. I’m only going to be in town for the rest of the week, so when are you free?” He took a quick sip of his drink. I could tell what it was just by looking at it: scotch on the rocks. It was the only thing he ever drank. He said it ‘sounded manly,’ and he was right. It was manly. Even when he was just a senior in high school, and I was his sophomore crush.
“I guess I could go for a lunch.” I didn’t want to seem too desperate.
He didn’t seem to acknowledge my answer. Maybe he already decided I agreed. “I’m surprised to see you drinking,” he ran his hand over the lip of my glass, taking a bit of salt and licking it. I frowned.
“Oh yeah? I’ll have you know I took the ‘drinking’ plunge freshman year.” I felt my cheeks grow hot, feeling a sense of confusion overwhelm me. Was I angry? Or just embarrassed?
He didn’t answer. He took a swig of his drink, the sound of the ice cubes clinking against the glass. He clenched his jaw, and his eyes met mine. He brought the glass down, and swallowed hard. I forgot that we were in a club, the roar completely gone. The music and flashing lights absent.
“You know it’s my favorite,” he raised his glass. “Do you still have the same cell— what was it? 345-2845?”
My lips parted in astonishment. “Yes. You remembered.”
“I do my best. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, for now I have to wander back and find my associates.” He winked at me and moved back into the crowd.
I continued to watch him for a short while, still trying to wrestle my emotions down. I picked up my glass and gazed into its empty bottom, and let out a ragged sigh. Only a small drop left. I took a bit of salt off the edge and licked it off my finger.
Aaron came back to the table, looking a little pleased with himself.
I fed him. “What are you smiling about?” I felt a little light headed.
He sat back down in his seat and rolled his eyes. He leaned close as if we were sharing a secret.“I saw you were taking to Hugh.”
I shot him an agitated look. “Yeah, what of it?” Was he jealous?
“You two looked thirsty, and I don’t mean for some drinks,” Aaron said. I couldn’t read his tone, but I decided it didn’t matter. I sighed.
I stared over his shoulder, watching Hugh with his friends. “Well... he had a wedding band on. So I think he’s married.”
“That’s not surprising.” He turned in his seat and looked at Hugh who had rejoined his two friends... associates he called them. “What’s he doing in here anyway? Do you know why he’s in town?”
“What? You do? Did he lose a scholarship? Is he in the poor house?”
He chuckled, humoring my bad mood. “I thought maybe you two talked about it. You seemed to be getting pretty intimate.”
“We didn’t really get a chance.”
“What happened?”
“Aaron, I don’t know if I want to get into it. I just feel a little mixed up is all.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, then frowned. “‘Cause of his wedding ring?”
“He said he wasn’t married anymore, but he hesitated.”
Aaron straightened his back and took a drink. He licked his lips loudly, mostly to annoy me more than anything. He shrugged. “What if he is?”
“I don’t want to get involved with him if he is... but he did invite me to lunch.”
I tore my eyes off Hugh and looked at Aaron again. As soon as I did, I managed to pick out Hugh’s familiar laugh from across the room. Aaron grinned at me. “You agreed right?”
“Yes.”
He finished his drink and slammed it on the table. “Well, you’ll find out then won’t you? Don’t worry about it so much.” He lifted my glass, as if he were testing it. “Looks like you need another drink. I’ll get that sad-lookin’ waitress. We’ll have fun tonight, okay?”
I forced a smile, feeling a little better. “Thanks Aaron. You’re a good friend.”
He nodded to me, raising his glass.
***
After a couple of hours at the bar, it was definitely time for me to go home. Aaron drove me back to my house, only hesitating to ask if I needed company.
“Are you going to be alright?”
I nodded, fighting the gentle spin of the world. “You got me way too drunk.”
Aaron shook his head. “That isn’t my fault. Are you going to be okay?” he repeated.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the night, and the ride.” I fumbled through my purse at the door. After finding my keys, I barely managed to slid it in and unlock the door. Before I stumbled inside, I waved goodbye to Aaron.
Only when his car was backing out of the driveway did I regret my decision. Some comfort might have been nice. What was I even thinking agreeing to meet with Hugh? We had a brief relationship in high school, but shouldn’t high school sweethearts stay in the past? The lights were on in the house, but I didn’t really want to see my parents.
I let myself in and found my dad watching TV in the living room. He was sprawled out on the couch, a foot perched up on the coffee table. Instead of his usual beer I was used to seeing, he had a tall glass of iced tea.
“Hey there, kiddo, what were you up to?” He leaned forward, taking his eyes off the TV. It was weird to not hear his characteristic drunken drawl.
“I just went out with Aaron to try and catch up a little.”
“How’d it go?”
“It was alright.” I steadied myself against the kitchen counter, feeling the effects of having a little too much. I doubt Aaron should have driven, but maybe he was fine.
“Do you want to watch this movie with me?” He pointed at the TV. Ace Ventura: Pet Detective was on, Jim Carrey was fooling his landlord into thinking he didn’t have any pets. “I love this guy, he’s just ridiculous. Kind of reminds me of myself when I was younger.” He scratched his stubble.
“That’s ridiculous. You’ve never been funny,” I said.
He brought up his fists and mock jabbed the air. “Whoa, low blow on this old man huh? Just because I don’t go to comedy clubs anymore doesn’t mean I’m not funny.” He leaned forward from the couch. “Remember what I used to tell you when you were younger?”
I thought for a moment, having no clue. “Vaguely.”
“One day when we were shopping for school clothes for you, you asked why the mannequins don’t have heads — ,”
“Oh!” I chuckled, “You told me they were shopping for new heads, and that they would nab mine right off my neck if I didn’t stop wandering off.” I frowned. “It wasn’t funny! I was scared of mannequins for years after that.” He laughed. He always had a big belly laugh, and now that he didn’t really have the belly, it made him seem larger than life.
“It was hilarious,” he said, catching his breath. “Your eyes went all wide and you asked, ‘Really?’”
It was kind of a funny image, terrifying a little girl about mannequins in the store. I sat down on the couch, trying to talk away him so he wouldn’t smell the alcohol on me. “You went to comedy clubs?”
He thought for a moment, scratching his face. “I used to go to this one place called ‘The Fiesta,” which was downtown. It’s gone now of course, but I had some good times. I made good cash too.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“I got fired one night. I had been drinking to try and get my courage up, and the manager of the place had done his best to ignore it for a while, but I was really bad that night. He pulled me off the stage and told me to go home.” He was silent for a moment.
He glanced at the clock, watching it as he continued. “I want you to know, Cat, that I’m glad you’re home. I meant it yesterday.” He looked at me. “I don’t know what happened, and I won’t ask, because you have always been a little private.”
I wrung my hands in my lap, squeezing them until they turned white. I know my cheeks turned red too. I don’t know if it was the alcohol, or my shame.
“I never really felt like I could talk to you before, dad, you were always...”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know if it means very much coming from me now, but it’s all I can say. I hope I can prove to you that things have changed around here.” I looked away for a moment, watching Jim Carrey make a fool of himself in front of a bunch of reporters.
After a moment, I interrupted the movie, “I noticed the roof had been changed. Did you do that?” I didn’t feel as dizzy, maybe I was sobering up.
“Yeah, I did that last summer, it was a doozy. Your mother still won’t let me make any changes inside the house. Says she needs it to stay comfortable.”
“I see that.” I looked toward my parent’s bedroom, knowing that she was probably passed out again.
“I worry about her, you know?” my dad said, startling me. His voice lost its jolliness, as if he was talking about someone he used to know a long time ago. “It’s been really hard. When I started going to AA meetings, I invited her along.”
“Did she ever go?”
He shook his head. “I gave up on asking her, I just pray that she’ll eventually want to take that step. But I do worry about her. She can’t keep this up forever. No one can.”
I groped for words. “Is she depressed?” I barely could make myself think about what it must be like. Vaguely, I worried I might know.
“I don’t know. I can’t force her to tell me anything. She won’t see a therapist, or anything.” He dropped his elbows onto his legs and hid his face in his hands. “I’m sorry you have to see her like this. I know that’s one of the reasons you stopped visiting.”
“How come you never told me you were sober?”
“I don’t know. I thought about it a lot. I guess I didn’t want you to think I was lying, or something.”
He was right, I would have thought he was lying. It was a reoccurring nightmare in my childhood, and it stuck to me. I knew that my parents met through drinking when they were in college, and when the teachers in middle school warned us about drinking, I swore I’d never touch the stuff.
Of course, that all changed freshmen year... after thanksgiving.
“Dad,” I said. “I lost my Bell Scholarship, so I couldn’t stay in school. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh,” he said, giving me a hug. “Well...” he thought for a moment, choosing his words. I braced myself for a lecture, a speech. “Shit happens. I know you’ll bounce back.” He wasn’t mad.
I felt a pang of emotion flood my chest, like a dam just burst open. My eyes welled up, and I hugged him. “I’m can’t believe you’re not mad.”
“I would have been, three years ago. But I’m calmer now, I hope I can show you that. Everyone falls down, but you can always climb to your feet. God knows I have. You’ll get up.”
We sat in silence for a while, just watching the movie together. Laughing at the dumb jokes, and pointing out the weird mistakes. I appreciated that my dad cared about me. I hadn’t felt that kind of affection in so long. It was refreshing.
After the movie ended, my dad switched the TV off. I looked at him expectantly.
“Well it’s getting late, Cat, so I better head to bed.” He stood up, and started down the hall. Then he turned toward the guest bedroom and grabbed the door handle.
“You... don’t sleep with mom?”
“Nope. I haven’t for a while. It’s too hard for me. Good night, Cat.”
I swallowed hard, gulping down my emotions. “Good night, Dad.”
***
I went upstairs and laid on my bed. It smelt a bit musty. I looked at the clock, barely past 1AM. The night was still young.
I thought about Hugh, his chiseled jaw and striking eyes. I turned my light off and ran the ceiling fan, the tap-tap-tapping of the pull string distracting me for a moment.
I hadn’t seen him in years, and I couldn’t believe the kind of queasy emotions it was bringing about in me. The way his eyes danced between mine, daring to not take a scandalous peek at my cleavage. I felt all fluttery from it.
Another thought and memory brushed past me. It was like standing in a field of tall grass, the wind occasionally pushing the strands against my bare legs, tickling and itching me at the same time.
We’d met when I was a sophomore in high school. He was a senior, and it wasn’t anything I was prepared for. I was an introverted girl, who tried to act like I didn’t like my science and math classes. And he was more of a ballsy rugby jock. Electricity sparked, and the next thing I knew we were going to homecoming together. A blue ocean theme. I wore sea-mist-green, backless silk dress. Although it wasn’t allowed, no one stopped me. He wore matching colored accents on his suit.
We ended up having sex. I was young, naive, nervous, but he made me feel so strong and serene. His lips had nuzzled my ear. His arms wrapped around my sticky body, and his breath tickled my neck. The hours between when we left the dance and I had to be home were ours. No one could steal those from us. Sports practice and homework got in the way occasionally, not to mention my embarrassment about my parents.
What else could happen now? After so long?