LinkBack URL
About LinkBacks
She was known for her disappearances. I think it was the rush of uncertainty about whether or not anyone would actually look for her that made her do it. But it was always that same curiosity that brought her back. But this time was different. This time she never came back. I shouldn’t have even cared, considering the fact that I had only had one legitimate conversation with her in my whole life. It was the summer before I was a high school freshman. She lived in my neighborhood, in a picturesque house of green grass, white picket fences, and bird feeders – identical to all the others in this brainwashed cul-de-sac. It was three a.m. on a Sunday and the only thing keeping me up was the whir of my hard drive. I had this intense fascination with the internet. While the rest of the natural, normal world slept, I stayed up jumping from one website to another storing each useless fact into the back of my brain for future use. I was in the middle of learning the origin of pink being associated with girls and blue with boys when I heard the screaming.
“I swear to fucking God if you set foot in this house ever again I will beat you so hard you won’t wake up for a year!” Shit, I thought, this guy was ANGRY. And before I even had time to look out my winder and observe the situation, she came crashing in. She brought my lamp down with her, which broke upon impact.
“Shit!” she muttered as she gathered up the pieces and placed them on my desk. “Sorry, I’ll replace that. Ikea, right?” I nodded with what must have been one of the most confused looks I’ve ever created plastered on my face. And then, right when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder, it did. She began to cry. In one second right before my eyes I watched her as her smile faded and was replaced with streams of tears. She let her back slide down my wall as she situated her self in cross-legged position on my floor. I sat in silence as her hands cupped her face and her shoulders rose and fell with each whimper. At this point I guess I should have spoken, at least asked for a reason why she felt it was okay to come barreling through a stranger’s window at three a.m., and especially a stranger who never quite got over his six year old self’s fear of the dark. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was secretly enjoying her company for some reason, even though she clearly sucked at first impressions and small talk. But suddenly it became too silent. Her crying had stopped. She looked up and forced a smile. “I’m Ari. Short for Array,” she said as she pushed an open hand towards mine.
I shook it and muttered, “Troy.”
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Troy,” she said. She then locked eyes with me. I watched as a buzz of energy and life rushed through her freshly cried eyes. It was as if someone had just turned on the electricity in her body and who I saw before was a mere puppet of her usual, clearly happy, self. “Sorry about that,” she said as she broke eye contact. “You see, my dog just died. Very tragic.” She paced awkwardly around my room picking up various items to inspect. That’s when I realized my jaw was hanging open and I was just staring at her like an idiot.
“Who was that guy yelling after you?” I asked, “he seemed really angry.”
“What?” she responded, quickly whipping around to face me, seemingly flustered. “Dunno what you’re talking about. Must have been Johnny’s dad again over on Cedar Street. Johnny’s made a habit of sneaking out.” I was just about to respond when she continued with, “Alright, well it’s been fun but I really gotta go to bed. See ya later!” And then she was gone.
Reply With Quote
Bookmarks