…stop thinking about her and it is KILLING me. I just want to see her and talk to her and tell her how much she means to me. It’s funny…I had the chance to do all of this for 16 weeks…and I blew it. I wonder how much longer I’m going to be lovesick.
She is a new beginning and a swift end. I cannot see anything beyond her.
The sarcastic glare.
The vaguely feminine shape of her hips, hidden beneath stylish, pleated, designer fabrics.
The thick black hair that slopes behind her perfect ears and across her porcine forehead.
The thick black hoops pinned to the earlobes of those perfect ears.
The dark, nervous, gentle, weary, sheen of amber black that glosses those beautiful eyes.
The puckered pink lips that so easily bloom into that smile made of crooked white teeth.
The delicate bones in those slender hands.
The fragile lilt of the collar bone that just barely pushes against the white flesh.
The black tattoo curved along the beautiful slopes of those bones.
The tiny piece of bare skin that comes peering out at her hipbone as she lazily cradles the back of her neck with her forearm; reaching; reaching for a hand that I would have gladly given.
The way she shoved her tie into my hand with just enough force for me to feel her.
The way we both made sure to let out finger tips touch as we moved away.
The way she came looking for me the instant I left her side, and stayed close to me; so close to me that I could breathe in her ear, push aside the strands of hair that comprised that beautiful midnight curtain, with just my breath.
The way she used her biting humor to make me sting all over; especially when I asked, “haven’t you ever been a girl?”
The moment when I realized that she was not a she at all; when palpable tension caught us both up in one of our many private moments and I made it worse by staring into the beautiful slopes of those bones, and away from her dark, nervous, gentle, weary eyes.
The moment when she still sat beside me, her fragile thigh pressed into mine, as if to say, you are still mine, even if this is the last time we see each other.
The silence that took us both over, washed us away, then pushed us back together.
The night I stepped out of her car, and the spinning stars above me were lower than my spirits. She waited for me in the dark and watched me as I carefully, slowly, walked away.
The steps that took me closer to my front door, and further away from her side, were a million miles in length each.
The last step I took was to see her finally disappearing into the night.
The words I said were, “thank you, be safe driving home.”
The words she said were, “Thank you, have a good night.”
The words we never spoke were the silent ones.
Touching finger tips, the glimpse of nervous amber black, thigh against thigh, smile matching smile. College is over.
The way it was always meant to be.
She is a new beginning and a swift end I cannot see anything beyond her.
Rex Pester (Rugrats Movie, 1998)
Nate Ruess (fun, lead singer)