The Book Nook

11

 I can't recall at all how much time had passed, us there in the middle of that park late at night. It was all a sensory bombardment of memory but in no indisputable order, no more than a disarray of snapshots albeit perfectly clear ones. Rather the arrangement of the moments is merely just lost. They occur and then they are missing to us, never again quite whole. Only lost in the sense that they do not retain playback features - play again, rewind, pause. But they're still there, loosely scattered in a box of memories.

I remembered certain things. Those things stayed with me not just until my late bus ride home but still yet remain with me as if they had happened just yesterday.

The smell of her warm breath, her curving mouth lingering and then pressing against mine, the warm still air - almost impossibly warm for May - the creak of the merry-go-round as our weight shifted on its surface. My hand drifting under her unbuttoned coat. I knew then as these moments were happening that if I closed my eyes at any point in time, I'd be wishing in the future that I could go back in time to yell at myself 'Remember this! Remember every little detail!' It may seem strange, but I don't think she even noticed that I kept my eyes open to soak in every visual image of the scene that I could. So much so that I could paint it upon recollection.

Alexandria had kicked the merry-go-round into a light spin and we lay there side by side, heads at the edge of the base, feeling the rush of the world turning around us. The trees faded from view and then reappeared on the opposite sides of our vision. Stars moved as if in timelapse.

Her hair splayed out beneath her head, some strands dropping over to drag on the ground as we turned. Our feet coalesced near the center pole, her leg draped over mine as we lay shoulder to shoulder.

I could envision it perfectly as if it were a camera angle from a movie. The camera would be looking down from directly above us as me and Alexandria, the young leads of said film, are gazing up at the sky in the direction of somewhere off-screen, hands clasped together between us at our sides just as we are now.

It was funny that I had that particular image in my head right at that moment. I swiveled my head to her when Alexandria spoke and put the first line of dialogue into our unspoiled cinematic scene.

"You know what?" she said, still staring upwards, "I know it's strange, but... I always feel like things need to play out like a movie. And when they don't, I'm left disappointed and let down."

This time she turned over to look at me.

"But this time -"

"This time it does feel like a movie," I finished for her.

She gave my hand a squeeze. "You're exactly right. Like a movie. Yeah." She smiled then and turned back to facing the stars. "For the first time in a while."

I turned back to the constellations then too.

"You're not an actor are you?" She poked me in the side. "Come on, who put you up to this? Tell me. Where's the cameras? Am I being watched by a live studio audience? It's like The Truman Show, isn't it? Goddammit, it's my worst fear come true."

I laughed. "Nope! No acting, I swear. I'm no pro anyways. Isn't it your roommate who's the actor? I'd be more worried about her."

"El?" she snickered, "Yeah. Hey wait, how'd you know she is?"

I hoped she didn't notice my eyes widen at my own fudge-up. Luckily I was looking upwards.

"You had mentioned it before."

"Did I?"

"Uh, yeah. How else would I have known?"

She didn't ponder it anymore, to my thankfulness.