Opposite of Always(38)

That is, if you’ll still have me, because by now it’s abundantly clear to you that I’m crazy myself, you know, if that wasn’t already clear before, so if you don’t want to go to prom with me anymore (or anywhere else for that matter) I completely understand, okay, Kate

PS And Jack?

PPS No pressure!

I immediately reply:

Dear Kate,

Speaking of crazy, what if we knew each other in a past life.

All I know is I want to know you well in this one.

ASAP, as a matter of fact.

So, what do you say?

Me, you, and a tragically awkward public dancing session (otherwise known as prom)?

Jack

And then in sixth period, I get a response. (Which is awesome—Kate’s Ultra-Rapid Reply Speed—because sometimes it feels like we’re all so caught up in appearing cool and aloof that we’d rather wait some randomly imposed time before replying, rather than be true to our feelings. You know, those so uncool feelings like excited and happy. But not Kate. Kate replies thirty-eight minutes later.) Dear Jack,

Officially, all the way, yes.

But I owe you fair warning. I’m recently out of a relationship; a couple of months now. But (and I probably shouldn’t tell you this) I’m not certain I’m over him just yet. Probably because it seems like he’s always around. Probably because he is always around. I broke up with him, because in my head I know we’re not good for each other. But that damn, blasted heart of mine—treacherous, naive, and generally idiotic . . .

I don’t know, Jack, it’s just one of those unknowable things, you know (ha!)? Sort of like whatever you’re pretending is not going on with you and your friend from the party—Jill, if I recall correctly?

Okay, so I actually know it’s Jillian but I’ll be honest with you, there was some strange tugging happening inside of me that wanted to pretend as though I’d forgotten her name . . . I know, so maniacally petty . . . but at least I own my issues, right? Any credit for ownership?

And don’t even try and deny it, either.

I saw how you looked at her. Like there’d been an arrow shot into your narrow ass. I was asking you to move from the stairs for like two minutes before you even realized I was standing behind you. There were singing baby bluebirds flying loops around your head, too, so there’s that.

But don’t worry, it doesn’t bother me. I mean, even though it feels like we do, the truth is we barely know each other, right? Except for the time we spent together in our previous lifetime, of course.

I just don’t want to screw things up, Jack. That should’ve been my fifth bullet point earlier—that I have a habit of destroying good things. Especially right as they’re about to reach their full potential, here I come, the human wrecking ball. Maybe that’s my talent, messing things up. Perhaps instead of denying it, I need only embrace it.

So, consider yourself warned, man.

Me <—————— Big. Random. Stupid. Trouble.

I can’t even write an email without being weird, see, Kate



* * *



Dear Kate,

Great minds think alike, I guess—

Thank you for your honesty. About your situation. I totally get the mind and heart not on the same page thing. All too well sometimes.

But you’re only half right about Jillian. There was a time when I wanted to be with her, a time when there were few things I wanted more. But she and I are meant to be friends—best friends actually—and I’m happy to have her. The other day she told me she’s basically my bodyguard, that her job is to protect me from getting hurt. When I asked her what hurt she was protecting me from, she said everything. I guess I’m lucky to have someone like that, who cares about me so much. Her boyfriend, Franny, is also my best friend. The three of us are best friends, in fact. So you can imagine how weird/awkward/difficult it was to have/hide my feelings for her. Once upon a time there was a moment, at a party very much like the one you and I met at, where I nearly told her the truth. But something (fate/kismet/chance/divine orchestration) made me hold back. Whatever it was, I don’t regret it. Especially now.

Anyway, I don’t want to rush off, but I sort of have a band, and I’m supposed to meet Franny, so I have to go. For now. If you happen to hear something that sounds like a moose crying in a wind tunnel, don’t worry. That’s just our band warming up. Okay, I’m lying. That’s us attempting to play songs.

No moose was harmed during the playing of these songs, Jack

PS Tell me something you’ve never told anyone. (<—You probably didn’t think I was capable of this level of cheesiness, but SURPRISE! I am!)





The Irony of Prison Sentences


Still buzzing from Kate’s emails, I meet Franny at his locker, the same way I do every day before band class. “Hey, man, you ready to rock out?” I ask as I pretend to strum my trumpet case as if it’s a guitar.

But Franny slams his locker shut. “Not going.”

I laugh. “What, you got something better to do?”

“Not really feeling like hanging out with Nerds ‘R’ Us today, that’s all,” he mumbles, then turns to walk away. “But please give my regards.”

I grab him by his backpack to stop him. “First you skip lunch and now you’re trying to bail on band, too? Yo, what’s up, man?”