Compulsive

I couldn’t think straight when these things popped up. The twelve things daily that remind me of her, of that first time, seem to creep in and stunt my brain for a good hour a day. Honestly pick a feeling, a tone, a word used in the crux of a sentence, because the myriad of daily occurrences that invoke this feeling of wonder and tragedy. You could start with that song that I heard today. The song that seems to speak to a part of my soul I hide from the world. I avoid the country stations now just to stay away from it. I’ve deleted it from my I-pod, thrown out the CD. Somehow in all its infinite wisdom Windows Media Player decided that I needed to here “The Dance” today. It reminded me of that long lingering kiss the couple at the register shared, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. How I envied the endless joy found in that gaze. A brain flash later and I remembered the other day I was curled up on the couch and had this comfortable feeling wash over me. A feeling a peace quickly shattered by the same memory the electrons are feeding into the forefront now. The beginning of my hearts own epic tragedy.
As much as I’d like to fight it I feel overwhelmed by the power it holds. I kick and scream at the keeper of records up there but I remember. The kiss, the embrace, and the endless sublime I felt during that time. Holding her, as cliché as it seems and the song says, I held everything. I held my own fears and joys in projected onto someone else; pure ecstatic hope that only comes with youth and nativity. It was a only a few moments but it meant so much.
For years now I have dwelt on it, never fully understanding why its crater on the surface of my soul is so great. It was nothing, a kiss, a simple touch that would forever change the course and understanding of my inner monologue. I was sitting in the hot tub of my Dad’s house staring at the desire of the last six years of my life, who happened to have a boy friend. Ashley was the moon, unopposed in an unexplored world where other lights only twinkled in the background. Her dark brown hair with that little hint of red was now slicked down from the water, still contrasting her light olive skin and those eyes. Eyes that swirled hazel and green that could make the most devout repent for sinful thoughts. I’d spent so many years looking at them I knew her mood just from the color.
I was just back from a high school football championship and undefeated season, the returning victorious, cocky, and sarcastic, on top of the world. In tip toe physical shape, sandy brown hair, and recently the prospect of some of the best looking girls in school, I felt a little more playful then usual. But despite my recent success I knew I was treading a little heavy given the situation.
It wasn’t always this way but almost always this complicated. A game had ensued over our tenure, one of tip toes, secrets, friendships, tensions. It was really our place and propinquity in life that lead to this possibility. Sitting next to one another twice daily, sharing the experience of the day and the emotional understanding of teenagers. “Matter of time,” everyone had always said, while I watched that time I wanted to covet go to others. I tried as hard as possible to hide my excitement at another chance at my dream and that this time I was more prepared then ever. I admired my own pre-game plan. An afternoon of flirting, getting a little too close once or twice, talking about last nights game, and the emotional conundrums of her present had culminated better then hoped. I had hoped for it laying the groundwork for something a week or two off, but as I sat locked in it I realized the possibility was here and now.
I averted the stare and gazed up at the stars while making some innocuous banter and looked at a clear December night. It was really only the happenstance of standing in the middle of a small space and following stars with my eyes but I had wandered over to her. Realizing I re-fixated on her eyes and I saw all I could yearn for. An unabashed come hither look that spoke volumes of longing and obsession. So I leaned forward eyes closed and sank under the bubbling water.
I chickened out plain and simple. I cursed myself for the coward I was. (Jesus, you had it all man. Right there! Right there! I wonder how long I can hold my breath? Should I just stay here at this point? Not like I’m going to do any better on the surface. Well she is still here. Maybe I can give it another shot. She has a boyfriend though, dumb ass. You’ve been down this road before and something never links up.)
I could make out her legs under the water through the fuzzy fog of bubbles. Hands at Her side I can could only imagine what she was thinking, I was going crazy. The enormity of the situation was making a drum circle out of my heartbeat but it was too late to turn back now. My proximity made retreat impossible without relegating myself, forever, as a friend. I had offered my heart up long ago without the option of getting it back. I was always advancing and retreating in turn, and I was sick of it.
Surfacing slowly I found my target again. Mindset to complete the task at hand I inched forward the last half pace to awaiting lips. I can’t tell anymore if I’m even in water. What day it is, where I go to school, who my parents are or if I have any family at all. Was there anything that was ever this euphoric or utterly resplendent? Just two sets of lips meeting, that’s all they were, sparked by years of being held apart. At the end of what seemed to encompass the entirety of life in its span and magnitude, it broke. Only for an instant as another encounter more forcibly returned to take its place. This was what heaven must be like. I realized, just then, that I had worked just as hard or harder as one would need to in order to secure a place beyond those gates.
The world and reckoning began to creep back to me but somehow that never took the feeling with it. A few more embraces, now sweet, now hungry, followed by unexpected air.
Slowly, “Scott, Scott, wait I can’t.” I thought the bottom of the world had fallen out in my gut when she said that. A vacuum was somehow connected instantaneously to my core. “You know I can’t. Not yet anyways.” She continued seemingly oblivious to the foundations of the Coliseum crumbling around us.
Forcing the same sly smile that had gotten me here I commanded a response to slip its way out. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry bout’ it.”
That’s all I remember. Even now trying to put myself back there, the story just fades. Light creeps its way into night and I’m off in another day. I’m locked forever at that moment of resignation. Another defeat at the hands of the person I held most dear apart from family. That’s the end of this little tale. The power still sits there locked in the filing cabinets that all too often open on their own to taunt me. In the end this little moment really makes me cherish those times when we remember what it is we really want in life. For me Its that feeling like I stood on the moon looking at eternity stretched out in front of me, if only for a few seconds...