Movie in the Making

September 15, 2012
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My eyelids were down like the curtains you decided to draw over your heart. Between shaking breathes, I could hear the deafening thump of your feet softly padding across the marble floor. The covers over my eyes seemed to have a projector showing scenes and images forming a movie. The film’s background music was your goodbye speech just a moment before. Flashing across the imaginary screen i saw the progressing of our relationship as if flourished and diminished to the point of no salvation.
Two years ago I met you. Cocky and arrogant, you seemed even more shallow than the deflated blow-up kiddie pool display at the local dollar store. Somehow you found me while I was alone. My friend and I had walked over to your friend’s house since he lived by himself. You and a few other people were high when we got there. I prayed you wouldn’t remember me the next day because that night was brutal. You flirted with me, and I acted like a stuck-up snob. You reached for my hand, and I rolled my eyes and walked away. Trying cheesy and charming pick up lines, I started to get bored and called you on every one. By the time I was about to walk away and hopefully escape your annoying attempts to hook up with me you surprised me with a comment that showed a potential of depth.
“You are so different from the other girls I usually go for. You should take that as a compliment. And before you walk away and roll your eyes again, I want you to know I mean it.” We were alone by the fire your friend had built in the middle of the woods behind his house. I saw sincerity in your face by light of the waning fire only; a new moon had decided to make it’s invisible appearance that night.
“Why? because I’m not begging to get in your pants? First hanging out with the wrong kind of girls if that’s it. Second even if I wanted to I couldn’t because I’m on my period.” I was even shocked by the iciness in my voice. I’m almost certain you heard my eyes roll that time by the impatient sigh you released.
“Look, I’m being serious. And yes partially because you aren’t flirting back. It’s just you don’t try to dumb yourself down and you can be really sweet. I know you can ‘cause you were before I started hitting on you. You know you can really cut the I’m-better-than-you act. I liked it when you were sweet; could you be real with me if I stop trying to get with you? You could at least say something, you know.” You shrugged while you stared at the rustling trees and moonless sky. Depth was a virtually inconceivable concept when it came to you. The sincerity in your denim eyes reflected into the fire that had begun to revive. I whispered a small “Thanks” as you started to get up.
The cinema dissolved and skipped ahead a few months ahead. It would have been you and your girlfriend’s twelve month anniversary if she hadn’t broken your heart a week before. We hadn’t talked since that night by the dying flames, but I noticed you around school. I also realized you were in my fifth period study hall; it was a class of one hundred and twenty students. You weren’t talkative, even with the diversity of the class. After the break-up, you seemed to go into a slight depression. I caught you staring at me a few times, and after a few days, flattery replaced the paranoia. You were a known flirt. I knew that if you couldn’t get a girl after a few tries, you gave up. You never gave up on me, though.
It was in study hall that you started talking to my friends. When lunch came the next day, you sat by us. ou began to develop a bromance with a senior that deemed me his little sister and refused to call me anything but “Freshman.” Claiming that you two were soulmates, he began quizzing you on Black Ops and World of Warcraft. I wasn’t able to avidly participate in any conversation pertaining to video games. As soon as you discovered this, you smoothly transitioned to a new subject. You surprised me by that act of attention to my emotion. At six feet two inches, you stood differently in my mind after that day. It was the first day I accepted the fact that I loved you.
The film flashed frantically through the firsts and the greats and the awe-inspiring moments that our relationship was built around. As the scenes bombarded my mind, salty , bodily fluids leaks from behind my curtains. I cried. In that marble and brick prison called high school I drowned myself in memories, tears, and snot. Just as I vaguely heard a door open, I collapsed. The chilled floor had a thin layer of dirt that clouded around me when my legs were at an equal altitude with my head. My body convulsed as a tortured screamed burst out of my mouth. I sobbed. I screeched and thrashed, then silenced and shrank. Not feeling the arms under my back and knees, I was taken aback when I saw a blurry image of you. I knew I was hallucinating. I had not heard a door open. I was alone, or I was the last time I checked. I hadn’t cared what was going on around me for about half an hour. Before I could stop, I started to hyperventilate; so I rested my head on your bony collar bone.
“Why?” I managed in a weak, rough voice. I was staring up at your chin with my arms looping around your neck.The image was clear then when I looked at you. I was cradled in your lap like a little being taken to bed after dozing off in the car. My tears had locked themselves up, awaiting the next tragedy to break the lock. Although my sight was fully restored, I had a throbbing in my cranium and a bag of nails scratching my vocal chords.
“Guess what is going through my mind right now?” You smiled down at me, which doubled your chin size. I shrugged. I gave up on my unreliable voice when it cracked with one word.
“I still love you. You are the only exception,” and you began to sing. With a shake of my head, you lowered to a hum, instead. I wanted to tell you to stay, but i know you’re too stubborn to listen. I wanted to explain the pros and cons of leaving, but you would never listen to the negative. I wanted to convince you to tear up the papers that made you an official Navy cadet but you loved your country too much. I settled for a sincere “Don’t ever forget that I love you.” Feeling the warm tears hit my tangled mane, I knew it was enough.
“I’m going. I love you, but I’m going,” You mumbled into my blonde hair. I nodded knowingly and tilted my head up to whisper in your ear.
“Just come back for me. Do whatever, but don’t give up on me.” Then the warm lips that I had been kissing for the past two years started to press down with a comforting, familiar feeling. Thoughts of the Navy began rolling through our minds simultaneously like the synchronized waves of the ocean you’d be on for the next year and a half. I was still cradled in your lap as we sat there not speaking audibly. That last kiss was our goodbye.

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