Somewhere in the back
Somewhere in the back of his brain, he imagined a faded cardboard box, its edges soft and worn, its rectangle frame hunched slightly with the weight of what was in it. If he could only open that box, he would find everything that he had squirreled away in the time he had known Anne. All the laughs he stifled, the biting tears that burned but never fell. Everything that he wanted to feel but hid in fear. She would have taken them and she would have cracked them across her knee like a dry stick. But he tucked them away, there in that box, out of her reach. Now that she was dead, his heart’s only wish was to brush the dust off the lid, flip it open, and dive his tired hands into its lush contents.
The label on our relationship
The label on our relationship had no expiration date to warn us; we spoiled unnoticed in the back of the fridge filled up with leftovers, baggage, and hang-ups, rotting around us. One day we found ourselves standing together in silence, not the comfortable quiet at the end of a long day, not the simple peace of enjoying another’s presence, but the silence that tries to contain thoughts that neither of us knows how to say. I spent that day without thinking of him at all and then there we were facing each other, the sappy end credit music still playing through the theater doors and us standing there, no words passing between us, not even a comment about the movie, and we both knew, we had curdled. But the relationship cost too much to just casually pitch in the trash. We stewed for awhile longer, almost in deferential reverence for days when we were so delicious, a perfect mix.
Stella never allowed herself
Stella never allowed herself to be seen wearing the same clothes two days in a row. Never. Even on the rare occasion she spent the night somewhere other than her own delicately decorated room, she took great care to alter her appearance so that the most astute gossip-mongers on campus were fooled into thinking that she had woken up, stood for a discerning fifteen minutes in front of her closet, and chose the outfit least like the one she had worn the day before. She was imperceptibly impressive. So, naturally we all took notice when she strolled through the library corridor this afternoon, letting her skirt bounce the exact same way it had yesterday, flicking her loose hair over her shoulder dressed in yesterday’s blouse, tugging at her two-day-old beads. It was impossible to say precisely what kind of changed expression she let display itself on her face, but it was definitely out of character. We felt betrayed. She was an inconspicuous pillar of fashion, a constant column of subtle charm and here she was promenading herself in the most pedestrian way and almost laughing at it.
I thought about it
“I thought about it,” I said.
“And?”
“And I’m willing to try it.”
“Great!”
“So, what happens now?”
“Well,” she hesitated. “You’re going to have to sign some papers, but it should be pretty straightforward. I think you’ll be happy with it.”
“Sure,” I added, “I mean, I’ve always wanted a lobotomy.”
And the knights
And the knights rode on convinced that the lady lay just beyond the thicket not knowing that it was in fact a carefully planned trap. Knights never expect it to be a trap. That is why they went extinct.
My elegantly assembled
My elegantly assembled costume was being pulled apart, stepped on, snagged on coat racks, and slammed in doors. Fringe ripped, lace torn, and seams split, I was already in tatters when he snipped that last string. Falling in patches, pieces, and burning tears, it slipped off. There was nothing I could do but pack up the scraps, hang my head, and excuse myself from the party. But he didn’t know that I was a seasoned seamstress. In a few stitches, I made a second entrance. Same me, new dress. And nobody knew the difference.
She was a champion
She was a champion of bumper sticker aphorisms, preferring five-word or less slogans to flowery vocabulary and frivolous compound sentences. Given abbreviations, puns, symbols, and solid-block lettering, she could just about say anything she wanted to say.
A supremely crafted
A supremely crafted diplomatic missive might have mended that bridge she burned in a stubborn display of self-righteousness, but she wasn’t exactly one for eloquent apologies. Unfortunately, though, the standard “Look, I’m really sorry” wasn’t going to be enough for him, so she was just going to have to get used to life alone. It made her shudder. She could be comfortable without Jim, that wasn’t the problem. She torched their relationship, after all. It was more the idea of not having someone.
Friday nights
Friday nights are empty. I can’t scrape together a smile for long enough to get past the pregame. A year ago I blurred through spring break in Barcelona. Celebrating the summit of Montserrat with 3 euro wine, skulking Las Ramblas with an open bottle of champagne, roving the beach to a blacklit nightclub, downing chupitos a dollar each. Swirling shots of sugar and absinthe and I didn’t even cry. See me out now—I’m the girl in the corner, avoiding your eyes, waiting for a ride home.
See, some people
See, some people were given toolboxes and some people were given sewing kits. You’ve got everything you need to fix and repair and make things work again and I have everything I need to patch up and stitch over and make things look like they work again.
We were at the restaurant
We were at the restaurant by seven, out the door by eight-thirty, and in the car by nine. An open-shut date if you ask me. The between time isn’t worth getting into and I won’t even mention what happened after. Just know that on a general scale of one to ten, it was a decimal at best.
Campus Celebrity Part 3
“You do realize that we are by the far the only people of any worth at this place,” Blake said, lifting up his sunglasses just enough to check the weather in the newspaper, and taking a sip of his smoothie.
Eva threw the crust of toast on her plate and sighed.
“It’s not gonna be above 30 this whole week,” Blake noted darkly.
“Why didn’t we go to Stanford?”
Blake laughed.
“They didn’t want you, honey.”
She would have snapped back, but someone caught her eye.
“Who is that with J.Gor?”
Blake turned around and squinted behind his glasses.
“I dunno.”
“She looks interesting.”
“New friend?”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, you need a new friend. Ellen’s gotten annoying ever since she hooked up with that lacrosse player.”
“Blake, you don’t even understand what a ‘friend’ is.”
“Sure I do. It’s someone whose job it is to make you look good.”
Eva smiled.
She pulled a book out of her bag.
Blake gagged.
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to study right now.”
“Can’t help it. I’ve gotta have this read by Monday’s class.”
“So lame.”
“Yeah, well not all of us can be Art majors.”
Blake shrugged.
“I’m gonna check my mailbox. I wanna see if those shoes I ordered are here yet.”
Eva held her hand out, he gave her his smoothie and stalked off. Eva took a sip and opened her book.
Campus Celeb Part 2
“Hey bitch, how come we never hang out anymore?”
Laughing, she stumbled into a sloppy hug with him.
“Oh my god, Blake, I told you. I’m like super super busy this term. I’m taking four classes that are kicking my ass!”
“Well, I take classes too, you know,” he answered casually.
“Oh my god, ok, we should like totally study in the libes together. This Monday.” She pointed at him and squinted up her eyes, trying to look serious.
“It’s a date, hot stuff.”
When he got up into the hallway, he could hear the music hadn’t improved. He saw Eva, wandering out of the vibrating mob on the stairs and called over to her.
“What’s up, babe?”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” she muttered, reaching into the pile of outerwear, pulling out her coat.
Once outside, he asked her about the guy she had her sights on earlier.
“He’s a dickhead,” she snapped. “Let’s go see what’s going on at Beta.”
They walked across the street, saw the line to get intot he side door of the house and stopped short on the curb.
“This night blows,” Blake whined. “Everyone is ugly.”
“Uh, I know. And it’s fucking freezing. Jesus.”
“How is it only one-thirty?”
“Whatever, I’m going back to my room before I die of hypothermia.”
“You suck.”
She started to walk away, and then he added, “Agh, fine. It’s not like I’m getting any ass tonight anyway,” and followed after her.
Campus Celebrity Part 1
The beautiful youth skulked onto the dance floor and into the cycling mob of other beautiful youths only to have the song change to the overplayed summer hit that was too passé to dance to. He filtered through the blacked-out and buzzed boys and girls and made his way to the basement. Scanning the skinny jeans lined up at the bar waiting for a bad cup of batch, he saw, over in the corner, clustered around a couple of empty kegs, his favorite siren Eva was making a forceful move on the shaggy-looking president of Sigma. He smiled, knowing that there would be a delicious story to enjoy at their Saturday morning ritual hangover breakfast. He couldn’t let down his half of the conversation, though, so he continued to glance around the dark, sticky room. A pong ball landed at his feet and he kicked it off to the side, which provoked some profanity from the guys at the table but barely registered with him, as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a cigarette. Beginning to bore with the lack of activity, he turned to go back upstairs. At the landing he met eyes with Josh, a past crush, and paused long enough to make it clear that he was entertaining the idea of a hookup before grabbing the hips of the girl two stairs in front of him and yelling out:
“Hey bitch, how come we never hang out anymore?”