It was quiet for awhile. Her head was resting on my shoulder, and we were holding hands; our fingers were intertwined the way all first loves did it. I could feel her palm softly slowly tighten and relax like a calm heartbeat.
To think we were laughing earlier; laughing at me actually. It was because I had forgotten the words to the song I was singing to her, again. Sometimes, when she said a word, a phrase, or when the mood was right, I sang to her. She liked it though, I knew she did. This time I thought I had ruined the moment again, but it was different, my forgetfulness somehow made it better.
”You forgot the rest of the song again, Remo,” she told me as she touched her forehead against mine.
“Yeah I did, so why don’t you help me remember then Gen,” I replied. When she started to sing it was no surprise that her voice was beautiful. Like her, both inside and out.
“Clouds are stalking islands in the sun. Wish I could buy one out of season. But don’t hesitate ’cuz your love won’t wait,” she sang.
I joined in later on when the words felt familiar. I thought our voices went well together; we went well together.
I suddenly felt Gen’s fingers start to spread out. I thought to myself, did she want to let go? I wasn’t sure, no, I wasn’t ready. I quickly and softly placed my other hand over her open fingers, covering the dandelion-ring I made for her. She closed her fingers knowing, I guess, that I didn’t want to let her go just yet. It was too soon to let go of her. I was moving the next day because my dad found a job in Ohio. I told her I was going for military school, because she probably wouldn’t have believed me for something other than that. It was bad enough that Gen knew about my not so good reputation in school, but to have her not believe me when I tell her the truth would hurt the most.
I wasn’t bad, o.k. I was, sort of. I’d pick on everyone, except girls; that’s bad. I get into fights too, but with guys from other schools, no, my school too. I really wasn’t bad, most of the time I was protecting my friends or at least their reputations. Everyone just assumes that throwing some kid in a dumpster is a sign of bad behavior. I had a reason. It was because he called one of my friends fat. My friend wasn’t fat. He was festively plump.
As we sat on the bleacher, I began remembering when Gen and I first met two years ago. I heard some papers fumble, a squishy splat on the ground, and then a girl laughing. It was a cute laugh, not like the annoying school-girl giggles the rest of the chicks at school had. When I looked over to see who it was, I saw this thin lion-maned girl standing over a spread of papers and spilt chili cheese fries; she kind of looked like one of those puff ball dandelions standing there. It was her laugh that drove me to her; I approached her and asked if she wanted any help. She nodded without saying a word, and I scrambled around to pick up her papers. She thanked me afterwards, but not before letting me hear her laugh again.
The next day I took every chance I could to find out who she was. I’d find ways to get her name out in conversations with my friends by pointing her out in the crowd during our break, but that plan didn’t work. They didn’t know who she was. I finally found out her name when I overheard a couple of girls talking about her. I didn’t care what they said, of course, and I went to find the girl with the cute laugh. I didn’t know what to say to her when I found her, so I asked about the weather. She looked at me funny, and in a way I think she was creeped out. She was cold at first always ignoring me or calling me a annoying, but I was determined to get her to laugh one more time.
The more I attempted to talk to her the more I got to know about her. Although she acted cold, and at times like a bitch, I had to make her laugh. It sort of became like a game to us, well to me mostly. I would pop out of nowhere, do or say something funny, and then she would call me annoying or a jerk. Sometimes she would give a slight smile. Other times I small laugh. And in rare occasions she would talk to me as if I was a good friend to her.
At times, things got close between us real close. Close enough for me to notice how she had this special way of finding the good in people, no matter how useless, or bad, they might seem to world. Sometimes our closeness would reveal how bored she was of everything. It wasn’t that “too smart for school” bored neither; it was something else. The sad part is that her bored attitude got a few girls mad at her for some reason. I guess that’s why she started homeschooling. I tried to protect Gen as best I could, even if it did get me in trouble. All I had to do to was return the favor to the girls that treated Gen badly. Gen never found out and she never will.
Gen was homeschooled for two years while I went on to high school, and every afternoon after I was out of class, or when I ditched, I’d go see her. I couldn’t go a day without hearing her laugh. I was falling for her and one day I told her. She told me she felt the same way. I guess I could say she was my girlfriend, but that would seem odd since we never kissed before. We would hold hands and each other close, but never kiss. Every time I would try, she would lean away. Every time I told her I wanted to, she would pretend to not hear me. Most of the time I accepted the indirect kiss from the chapstick she shared with me, but the thought of a real one would always cross my mind.
As my mind wandered to the thoughts of her lips, so did my eyes. I looked around trying to remember every detail of this moment in time before it was gone; the cloudless sky, the trees in the distance, the baseball diamond. It was the end of summer, and the smell of warm grass filled my nose. My palms were getting sweaty form holding Gen’s hand, but I didn’t care. Her vanilla chapstick smelled nice and so did her hair. Then something under my feet caught my eye. It was between the boards of the bleachers. It looked like a snowball, surrounded by what looked like broken glass, empty chip bags, and used condoms. I leaned down and reached between the bleachers quickly plucking it from underneath. I brought the snowball close to her nose. She then flinched while making a funny squeaking noise. Realizing what it was, Gen looked at the strange object I placed front of her.
“Another dandelion?”
“Blow it,” I said, “and don’t forget to make a wish.”
“I have a better idea,” she replied. “Let’s both share it; we can both make a wish.”
I held up the dandelion in between us as we leaned in closer together. I slowly counted to three and we both blew at the snowball. One by one the seeds flew away on an unfelt breeze till nothing was left but the stub.
“What did you wish for?” I asked as I tossed the stem away.
“I can’t tell you,” she replied, “because it won’t come true if I do.”
“Do you want to know what I wished for at least?” I said hoping it would pressure her to tell me hers.
“No, but if you want to tell me I’m fine with it.”
“Well then I won’t tell you,” I replied, “I’ll just show you.”
I closed my eyes and quickly leaned in close to her hoping to feel her lips touch mine. My heart was racing as if driven by fear or nervousness. This was it, I had thought to myself; our first kiss.
I then felt her cold fingers cover my mouth as if mocking the intimate moment. My heart sunk. I felt embarrassed for getting my hopes up. At that point I didn’t want to open my eyes ever again. I was too scared to. I felt that if I did open them, all I would see is her face scrunched as she tried to hold herself from laughing. I knew I couldn’t leave my eyes closed forever, so I gradually opened them.
Gen’s eyes were closed and her lips were pressed against the back of her fingers. My heart was racing again and I could feel her lips burning through the space between us. It made me feel as if my wish did come true that we kissed the way all first loves did.
