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“No man steps into the same river twice; For it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.”- Heraclitus
——-
Lovely as spring
Is my best friend,
Bright as the sun
Is her smile for me.
Her name is Eleanor
My Dear Ellie!
———
This poem documents the earliest moment of my friendship with Ellie. It was when I turned eight years old. In the poem, eight-year-old me also drew two stick figures, holding hands, surrounded by flowers, and a smiling sun.
I once asked my parents if Ellie was my sister or long-lost twin. I was so sure she was, even with my dark hair and green eyes (and Ellie with her golden hair and twinkling blue eyes.) They said no, but I still have doubts.
I cannot explain my bond to Ellie, but it seems deeper and longer than my sixteen years on Earth.
Weird, right?
I know this for sure: I am sixteen (even if I feel older)... and I have the best friend in the entire world and possibly the entire universe.
A little about me:
My full name is Cassandra Leonora Grace, though people call me Cassie.
I prefer the company of books instead of people (except for my best friend, of course!)
I have strange dreams that feel too real.
I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
Ellie wants to be a superstar, but I am not so sure. Whatever my future career is, I hope it has something to do with reading or writing.... or possibly both!
Ellie loves all of my oddities, and I love her just the way she is. Her favorite subject is drama. Works like Shakespeare nourish her artistic soul.
Ellie says that between the two of us, there is enough artistic flame to ignite the skies... she has a flare for the dramatic.
She is obsessed with Lady Macbeth. Ellie has been waiting to play the part for ages, but that is not the role she ends up with.
“Enough of Juliet, Guinevere! Let me play with darkness, murder, and madness!” Then Ellie adds a perfect maniacal laugh.
Her gleeful cackle always brings a chill down my spine!
My best friend Eleanor is the epitome of confidence.
Me? I try... though I am not always successful. I stammer badly sometimes.
I always try to build my confidence, even when I don’t feel it and eventually I feel better.
If I can’t say my thoughts out loud, then I write them and that helps me too. But writing in my journal has yet to help me with a particular problem. It is about a boy and not just any boy...
Summer this year has been long, lazy, and glorious. It has been close to perfect.
I check out books from the library and spend the rest of the day reading them in a park. If the park has too many people, I take my books to the treehouse for a peaceful retreat.
Whenever Ellie is around, and not away to drama camp or some trip abroad, she drags me to the beach. Under a shady umbrella, I pour over my books while she sunbathes under the blazing sun. The guys playing volleyball try to get her attention by 'accidentally' sending over their ball.
Sometimes Ellie tosses the ball back to them, and sometimes she joins them for a game or two.
Whenever the ball comes my way, I just ignore it. I only have so much time to finish my reading pile (and this summer, like always, my to-be-read pile seems to get bigger every day).
So far, so good? I can ignore the hot volleyball guys and read my books in peace, but there is one guy I can’t ignore, no matter how hard I try. His presence is causing quite a commotion to my otherwise blissful summer.
Yesterday, I was in my favorite bookstore, which was having a mega summer sale. Of all the places, I love this small, cozy bookstore. It is one of the best-kept secrets in our town. A person can easily miss it, as it is hidden behind a gigantic oak tree. There are books everywhere, stuffed in every little corner, and in no particular order.
I could spend hours (no, days!) going through everything.
The owner is a grumpy fellow who doesn’t like kids much, but seems to be ok with me being there. I started out in the front and searched through every book I could find and reluctantly narrowed my selection down to twenty books. I only had that much money to spend, even at the crazy low prices.
I paid the shop owner, who just grunted in response, and then I carefully placed my book treasures in the basket attached to the front of my bike. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings (I was in a book haze) and that was when I bumped into him...
Him with his gorgeous eyes.
“Watch where you are going...” he said. He paused when he saw me.
Did his face soften a little? My heart was beating like crazy.
“Sorry! I didn’t see you,” I said, flustered. “I am careful with my bike, I swear. I don’t go around running over people!”
My mind was reeling. My heart was in utter chaos at the sight of the beautiful stranger.
Was he new in town? I hadn’t seen him around before, but why did he look so familiar?
I stood there gawking at him like an idiot.
He said nothing, but quietly picked up the book that had fallen off my basket.
“Think you have enough books for the summer?” he asked, looking at my pile.
“They should last me two weeks, at least!” I said, brightly.
He looked like he was trying to hide his smile. Wait, was he teasing me?
I waited, thinking for sure he would tease me, but he didn’t.
“Happy reading,” he said, genuinely. The gorgeous stranger smiled before leaving and left me and my nerdy heart in complete shambles.
From that moment onwards, he has slowly been creeping over my thoughts.
Who was he? I didn’t even ask his name!
I can’t even focus on my reading anymore.
I thought I would never see him again. But I saw him again and again in the last place I expected to see him.
I lied when I said the books would last me two weeks. They lasted me only one week... but maybe it was a good thing? I found out that the boy who I nearly ran over with my bike came to my library every Tuesday.
I mean.. It is not my library. It is a public library, but I hardly see kids my age there, especially during the summer.
He doesn’t seem like the bookish sort (a stereotype; I know), but why does he sit in that same spot in the corner?
I saw him reading my favorite new book (the same one that fell off my bike). Now I desperately want to talk to him. Just to bring up the interest casually, that’s all...
Why is that easy for Ellie, but so daunting for me?
He has such a cute smile too, but other than the bike incident, I don’t think he even knows I exist.
I told Ellie, but she is unsympathetic to my languishing. She warned me that if I don’t do something about my situation soon, she will go tell him everything!
I am sure she is bluffing... I know that beneath her tough exterior is a big softie, but still I want to talk to him.
I just have to find the courage.
I swear I am not a creepy teenage girl stalking an innocent, unaware boy in the library for thrills. The library is my sanctuary and where I feel the most comfortable.
Maybe today will be the day I stop feeling guilty about glancing towards him? I only do it sometimes.
Maybe today I will find the courage to talk to him?
I build myself up with positive affirmations: I am feeling good and feeling bold. I can do this!
I arrived at the library as soon as the doors opened. I waited and waited and waited, but fate had something else in mind.
He didn’t come to the library today.
Sigh. Time crawled by slowly and soon, it was time for me to go home, but I didn’t want to leave. Ellie texted saying she will meet me here, so I guess I had a reason to stay longer?
I walked to the table at the far end and hovered around his sitting spot. I must have felt bold (and stupid), because I sat in his seat.
There wasn’t anything special about the view, but someone had scratched some words on the wooden table.
I looked closer at the faded etching to see what it was. It was an outline of a heart with two names in it.
“Some people have no respect for things,” I said out loud, shaking my head in disapproval at what I considered being vandalism.
I looked closely at the names to note down the perpetrators’ names (and maybe even tattle to the librarian).
I was taken slightly aback when I saw the names were ‘John + Cassandra’.
How strange! I didn’t know anyone else named Cassandra in my school, except myself, and I haven’t heard of any Johns either, even if it was a common name.
Maybe students of yore have done this? Who could they be?
My imagination took over, and I started daydreaming about the duo. I wondered about Cassandra. Was she still with John? Did they stay a couple after high school?
I wonder what she was doing at this moment?
I came crashing back to reality when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
My mind was panicking. Did he come for his seat?! God, it would be so embarrassing... How would I explain myself? I blushed furiously and turned slowly, only to see Ellie looking at me, puzzled.
“Cassie, are you ok? You have been staring at the empty table for a good twenty minutes,” Ellie said.
Has it really been that long?
“I am fine, Ellie,” I said, stumbling over my words. “What were you staring at me for?”
“You looked flushed. I wanted to see if you were ok?” Ellie said, raising an eyebrow.
“I am completely fine,” I said, blushing some more.
“You said fine twice,” Ellie said.
“It is because I am...”
“Fine?” Ellie said. "That's three."
“Why did you want to meet me here?” I asked.
“The library is close to the pizza shop, and you were already here,” Ellie said, shrugging her shoulders. “We should go.... I am starving.”
“Me, too!” I said, quickly. Daydreaming made me hungry.
Ellie smiled like she knew something. I didn’t ask her what, though.
Before we left, I glanced back at his table from outside the library windows, hoping against hope to see him there.
Sadly, the table was still empty. Maybe I will catch him another day, I thought and consoled myself.
————-
We brought the pizza back to Ellie’s place. I say place, but it was more like a modern palace.
Ellie lives in a gorgeous French Normandy-style mansion, nestled at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac.
It was easily the most beautiful home in the neighborhood, even the entire town.
Ellie’s house has two kitchens, one that the family uses, and the other used by their private chef. The family kitchen felt empty today.
It has been strangely empty ever since Ellie’s grandma died last year.
Now there were no more cookies baking in the oven. No more cushion fights. No laughter anywhere.
I used to see Ellie’s mom around. Now, it is just our voices echoing in the big rooms and empty hallways. It was nearly the end of the summer holidays, and her parents were still busy working.
I hoped my expression didn’t reveal my thoughts, because Ellie hates it when anyone feels sorry for her. She says she has enough money that she doesn’t deserve anyone’s pity. I guess I know why she says that... I have seen more than a few envious glances, catty gossips, and loud rants at her expensive lifestyle.
Ellie might have money, but she must be lonely. Especially since she hardly sees her parents around. They are big time lawyers, getting busier each year with their successful firm and their powerful, demanding clients. I feel bad as I bother my mother for every little thing, and dad too, whenever I need additional support.
We took the pizza boxes to the living room and placed them on the sofa table. Ellie handed me a plate that we grabbed from the kitchen. She picked her slice (the one with the most pepperonis) and after a moment, said thoughtfully, “I think he has a crush on you.”
I blushed. “Who are you talking about?”
“Don’t be cute with me, Cassie,” Ellie said, eating her pizza unconcerned. “The library guy. The same guy you daydream about, that’s who.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I mumbled, blushing harder.
“Oh, I think you do,” Ellie said. “He likes you too. I think he is just shy.”
“How do you know that?”
“So you admit you have a crush?” Ellie said, winking. “I saw him looking at you more than once. It was a very hopeless admirer type of look.”
“When was this?” I asked.
“Maybe last Tuesday, or the one before that?” Ellie said. “Oh, I know about the Tuesday thing and why you insist on being there that day.”
“You say the strangest things, Ellie,” I said, shaking my head.
“I know I am right,” Ellie said. “But... there is one way to prove it.”
“How?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Just ask him.”
“W.. what?”
“Just ask him and he will confess everything,” Ellie said nonchalantly.
Ellie has wild ideas. She doesn’t live her life by half measures... I love that about her, but sometimes it also causes problems for me.
“I never even had a proper conversation with him and you want me to ask if he likes me?” I asked, astonished.
“Yes, that is exactly what you should do,” Ellie said, undeterred.
“That is a terrible idea!” I said.
“It is a terrific idea,” Ellie said. “You know you want to do it, Cassie. I won’t have my best friend pining away for nothing.”
“I am not pining!” I protested.
“You so are!” Ellie said. “You only had two slices of pizza.”
“What does that prove?”
“You usually grab the box, Cassie, and I have to fight for a slice,” Ellie said. “All I am saying is that you have changed, Cassie. When it affects your pizza-eating abilities, you know you have a big problem.”
I threw a cushion at Ellie, from the ones arranged neatly on the elegant sofa.
“You touched the cushions!” Ellie whispered dramatically. “Pierre will have a fit.”
Pierre was her mom’s interior designer.
“Was he the one who took away the family photos?” I asked. The room felt sterile without them.
There were various antiques and figurines on the marble fireplace, but not a single family picture on display in the elegant, glamorous house.
“Maybe it was a good idea?” Ellie said with a sigh. “Mom cried whenever she saw grandma’s photo.”
“It doesn’t seem right to take away those photos,” I said. “Family memories are precious, even if they are sad.”
“Not in my family,” Ellie said, shrugging her shoulders. “The James’s motto is to bury any weakness or sadness deep down, where it can’t touch us.”
“Do you miss your grandma?” I asked.
“Every day,” Ellie said, sadly. “She was the only one who showed any feelings or cared.”
“You feel, Ellie,” I said.
“No. Not if I can help it.”
“Why?”
“Because it only leads to heartbreak,” Ellie said.
“You are one of the most caring people I know,” I said.
“You know like two people, Cassie, including me,” Ellie said. Then she thought about something and brightened up. “That is why I am telling you, Cassie, as an objective observer: Ask your crush, and end the agony.”
That couldn’t be true. No person can stop feeling, but I didn’t argue with Ellie.
“You know I will not let this go,” Ellie said, taking another slice of pizza.
“Why not?” I asked with a sigh.
“Because stubbornness is another James’ family trait,” Ellie said, smiling. “We don’t feel... and we win an argument at any cost.”
I shake off her assertion with a grim smile. I wasn’t as confident as Ellie.
I mean, he might not even remember me, I thought. He would just think that I was a weirdo who hit him with my bike and now was asking him if he liked me.
Ellie’s conversation stayed with me as I went to bed and I thought about him again.
No, that is a lie.
I never stopped thinking about him ever since we met.
That night, I dream we kissed.
We were standing on a bridge, with the beautiful colors of autumn all around us.
He came close and gently caressed my face. I felt goosebumps at his touch. I didn’t back away, instead I touched the scar on his face. His eyes lingered longingly; brown eyes shining like amber.
I closed my eyes and felt his lips close over mine.
I woke up shaking.
My heart was going a million beats a second.
Why did my dreams feel so real?
They didn’t feel like dreams at all.
They felt like memories.
I wrote the dream down in my journal, adding them to countless other entries. These dreams feel like missing pieces of a puzzle. Maybe someday the pieces will fall into place and I will understand what they all mean.