Clementine had become a wild child. Born in America but raised abroad, she now had little regard for the expectations of high society. But her reckless ways eventually catch up with her when she is kicked out of college in New York City and forced t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
93
Clementine lit some incense, and one again her heart skipped a beat, as she instantly regretted it. The smell gave her such a strong, visceral memory of him. How he was lays trailed by the smell of smoke, sweetly hanging in the air around him. He burned this near exact same incense in his apartment, and whether it was the stupid cigarettes or the mystery that enveloped him like smoke. She wanted to put it out, nearly did, but instead let herself wallow in the memory of him.
She sat there ,watching the lit up portion of the stick slowly move down the incense, and she thought how similar it was to their love affair. How maybe it was always only am after of time until they ran out of road. Everything that happened, burning up into a smoke that was so captivating for a moment, but evaporated into the air as if nothing happened only a Shortt while later. Even if she could still catch glimpses of it in her hair.
"The only difference," Clementine said aloud to herself, "was that I had no idea how long it would be till we burned out," she took the in ease and rushed it out before it had change to completely burn out, rubbing it against the shell holder, "until it did."
Her self imposed isolation was broken up by her mother, knocking on her bedroom door.
"Yes," Clementine called hoarsely, trying to wave the smoke away from the room.
Her mother came in with a cardboard box in her arms.
"Look what I found," she said, stumbling into the room, closing the door behind her with her foot already as if this was going to be their little secret, "I was organizing the attic a bit, and I found your dancing videos!"
Clementine tried to remember what she was referring to, but realized that it must ave been the tapes of her dancing in recitals when she as younger.
"Look a little more excited!" Her mother exclaimed, obviously trying to lift her spirits.
"No, that's cool..I forgot about them."
Herm other placed the box on the floor, and sat in front of it, picking through.
"Ah, this is my favourite. Your first ever dance recital. I think, you were five and you had a beautiful pink tutu. Do you remember?"
"Yes, actually!" Clementine thought of her first recital, how nervous she was and how magic it was being in the theatre for the first time.
"Put it on," her mother said a matter of factually.
"What, right now?" Clementine asked, surprised at her mother's sudden interest in Clementine's young dance videos.
"Yes, right now. This is the only time we have is now."
Clementine went over to the small tv in her room, which still had a video tape reader, and hesitantly put in the tape. Suddenly the tv went from grey to vintage, a few moments of her dad trying to figure out how to use the camera.
"Come here," her mother extended her arms in invitation to sit beside her.
Clementine walked over and sat down, her mother's arm around her.
They giggled through the first video, which was followed by Clementine's performance at age 13, already a lot more graceful and skillful.
It made her yearn for the past, a nostalgic view of her life when she felt smaller and safer and simpler.
When the video ended, they both sat soon her floor taking it in.
"Do you miss it?" Clementine asked her mother after some moments.
"What?"
"Dancing. You were great. You were better than me, don't deny it. You were...a natural."
"Oh, Clementine. There's no use wishing for the past. You know how I feel about it." Her mother shook her hair as if to shake out all the memories.
Clementine did know. Clementine knew she had to make sacrifices for...her. To have a child, and she wondered if maybe her mother wanted something else that what was waiting for her.
As if reading her mind, her mother spoke suddenly, "there's no use wishing for things to be different. I am perfectly happy with how things turned out. More than happy. In fact we should be incredibly grateful. We are lucky you know that. Plus, I have you. And I wouldn't trade that in for even the most glamorous careers."
Her mother patted her head, as if reassuring her. Clementine felt bold enough all of a sudden, to ask something more. "And what about dad?"
"What about dad?" She asked absentminded roaming around the cardboard box.
"Well, I know you guys met and fell in love and the rest is history blah blah blah, but ... were you ever in love, you know, before him?"
At that, she stopped roaming through the box, and paused for am minute looking elsewhere and nowhere, her eyes a glazed look as if she aw recalling something. Her mind taking her someplace else.
"I think," finally, she got up and looked out the window, "I think that you go through things and you out grow them and it hurts but then you're okay. And then," turning around to face her, "you find something better." She smiled but it wasn't the answer Clementine was looking for.
"Okay, but can you be more specific? I mean, that thing, you told me on the balcony some time ago? That must have meant something to you."
Her mother exhaled, and looking as if she thought about it, said: "Yes. The first boy I truly loved, or at least thought I did at the time. He was my first everything."
This was already more than Clementine thought she as going to get, so jumping on her bed as if settling in for a good story, she exclaimed "tell me more!"
