Her Mysterious Ways

Chapter 15: Traingazing

Well, it had been one whole week and I hadn't seen Andy. I hadn't talked to her or seen her, but I still couldn't get her out of my mind. It was a wonderfully horrible and stupid thing. I was so pathetic. I couldn't even keep myself from thinking about a girl that was only my friend. I didn't even know that I liked her anymore. I mean, it was never going to happen, so why keep liking her? She didn't want that and it was really the best for both of us, but something kept me holding on to that hope by a pathetic, thin, little thread that would not break. What a cliche thing.

Who am I kidding? I am a walking cliche, well, in a way. A popular quarterback who has popular friends. If only I had the rich part of the cliche. Now that would just complete it. I may have looked rich, but really I shopped at the thrift store and changed the tags on the clothes that weren't brand name. Whenever there was a shirt or sweater that came from Walmart or somewhere I would find some tags that came from a big brand name and asked my grandma to sew the over the Walmart brand tags. It was smart, I have to admit, but it was also sad that I had to pretend I was rich so that I could keep up the cliche version of me.

And of course, the only person I felt that I felt I wouldn't need to keep this up in order to be treated the same is Andy. Now, I didn't ever actually tell her that I was rich, but I didn't correct her when she said that I was. I guess I just didn't feel quite comfortable telling her just yet. It wasn't like she was going to find out or anything. Her aunt still thought that I just volunteered to take my grandmother to her monthly doctors appointments. For all she knew I was just a teenage boy who lead a perfectly normal life and was friends with her niece. So if Andy couldn't find out from her aunt and no one at school found out, I was in the clear. I had hidden this secret from everyone and anyone for five years, and I wasn't about to stop now.

There was still one problem with me though. I could not get Andy out of my head no matter how hard I tried. Her lopsided freckles and wavy auburn hair that wasn't quite completed without that signature crooked smile just grasped something in the dark places of my mind that would not let go. Either way, I would see her again, and our friendship would resume to an abnormally normal place again. Then everything would be fine, but until then, I would be waiting impatiently. That's when I knew that it was time to do the one thing that could take my mind off of anything.

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The bridge. A drop of rain. The railroad. All wonderful. All beautiful. All of them were uniquely and wonderfully beautiful. Just like... no. Stop it. Not now. Not her. Don't be stupid. This was supposed to take my mind off of her, not remind me of what I'm missing. I mean come on. I sound like we just broke up or something, but we didn't so get over it. Be a man. Oh no. Not this. Do not think of him now. Great. Just great. Now I have thought about Andy and that guy that in other people's terms is my father but in my terms is the horrible man that my mom chose to have me with. Stop! Now my mother! What the hell am I doing?! Just focus on the picture. Just take shot. A steady, clear, beautiful shot. Yes. The beautiful raindrop. A tear from the heavens and the earth combined. How amazing. That's better.

It was always calming in one way or another. Photography was my one and only way to escape my own mind. Some people danced or did drugs or drank themselves out of their minds, but I took pictures of things that somehow told a story, even if it was just stories that only I could read. I didn't mind. It was my form of art, and I couldn't think of anything better.

Then I took some more pictures. Then some more. That stoplight. The sky. Then the rusted mailbox. All of them had a story. Some people might read something different, but to me, all of their stories were as clear as the resolution of my camera. Even if my mother wasn't with me long enough to teach me many things, she did teach me one of the best things in life- take the shot. If it doesn't work out, find another angle, focus in, then take it again. The words I lived by, even when I wasn't taking pictures. It really helped through the hard times. I don't even know how those little words can mean so much, but it happened that they brought me back home a few nights when I just couldn't take it anymore and wanted to run away. They helped me overcome my longing to try and adapt a habit that numbed the pain and sadness. I couldn't even fathom where she came up with those words. All I knew was that I missed her, but I could handle it. She taught me that.