Clackers

Clackers Part 1

CHAPTER ONE - draft

Endings are always ragged. Complicated, messy, awkward, sharp - whatever word you use, endings are painful. As I drive to the mall thinking about Josh and how I will end it, I realize this isn't an ending because it never began. We went on one date. As my younger sister, Sophia told me, only a seventeen-year-old who's never dated, would ever date a guy she's been friends with since fifth grade. Sophia knows best, I should have kept Josh in the friend zone.

Snow on the road, but the driving is good. Usually, this time of year is warmer but January can be iffy. The clouds are covering the sun making it even colder and grayer. The highway is not too busy, just six lanes of dark gray concrete bordered by thick gray metal rails. Finally, I pull off the interstate. What am I going to say to Josh? Keep it quick and simple. I put my hand in my pocket for the tenth time; the letter hasn't moved.

Big trees zip by and then give way to the gray concrete low rise buildings; the shopping mall looms ahead. The mall is not very large, not by big city standards, but it serves us well. A big box and a few chain stores, nothing too fancy, just some basic retail. All I can think about is the statue in the food court: the place I meet Josh. The place where I crush his dreams into itsy, bitsy pieces. All the kind words and half-truths won't hide the fact: I'm not into you and it is over. The bronze statue is a man on a horse that has reared back on its hind legs. The man on top holds a large sword and on the blade is written, 'Home is where the heart is'. The bronze horse and rider are in the middle of a large bronze bowl. I will meet Josh on the circular bench around the bowl and I will smile and I will rip his heart out.

Far, far down the hallway, I see the bronze statue. Josh is touching his brown hair, short on the sides with a big pomp on top. Pretentious is the word to describe the hairstyle. I duck into a store filled with yoga pants and sweatshirts, Josh can't see me but I can see him. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can enjoy my weekend. Was it wrong to make him think this meeting was going to be a second date? I couldn't tell him over the phone it was over, no one deserves that. I squeeze the letter in my jeans. At times like this I freeze or don't say what I want, not that there have been too many times like this. This is the first time.

Josh looks at his watch, I'm ten minutes late. He must know something's up because I'm always on time. Everyone at my College will know about this, but it can't be helped. I remember the gallons of body spray he used on that first date and I get a little nauseous. His small brown eyes are darting all around the mall and I hide behind a pair of green yoga pants. My palms are wet and my face is reddening. Time to meet. No worries, if it gets too real I shove the letter into his hands and get out quick, just like I rehearsed. Josh looks at his watch again and then down the other end of the mall. Now is the time to go; when he turns, I'll be right in front of him. His hair is thick but looking at the back of his head something tells me he'll have a big round patch of baldness by middle age. It's just a matter of time.

Josh is still looking the other way. Friday evening is a busy time at the mall and most people have a bag in hand. The bronze horse is spouting water out of its mouth. Eight big spurts, eight o'clock. The mall is closing in another hour. He's at the exact spot and Josh is very still, as if he hopes that if he doesn't move I will appear. I don't appear so he presses his lips together and paces. He pulls out his cell phone and puts it back in his pocket. He's called twice, I felt the vibrations.

I parked my car around back so he would not be expecting me from this way. It is time to go; I can do this. I leave the yoga pants and head towards the fountain. Each step gets heavier and heavier and I turn my head to the jeans store I'm passing. Going out of business sale; it's a good sale and I should stop but I force myself to keep going towards the fountain. People brush past me and my feet shuffle forward. The conversations around me are fast; although I can hear bits and pieces the words jumble in my head. I unbutton my jacket because I feel hot. What will I say when we meet? The stores spin around me and vomit is in my throat. I'm having a panic attack, they always come at the worst time. This isn't going to work so I sit down and put my head in my hands. I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up. An old man with pure white hair cut to shoulder length is smiling at me.