Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle
-Plato
I had, from the very beginning, trust issues. I did not give it out to very many people; very few, in fact. No one person in my entire life knew every one thing about me. But that didn't mean I didn't long for someone to stand by my side, to know me inside out. Only a select few seemed intent on looking beneath the surface.
When we first met, there was no attraction at all. Actually, that's a lie. When we first met, the attraction I felt for you was strong. So strong, in fact, that one would even say you completely consumed me. And I can honestly admit you were all I was thinking about the whole time. They do say that love spawns from the most unlikely of places. It didn't help that you enjoyed my frustration.
And honestly?
I haven't a clue why I allowed you to crawl underneath my skin.
You made your first... correct mistake on a hot summer Sunday in July. Armed with my wallet and an iced fruit slushy, I began walking a straight shot down the sidewalk on Whyte, intending to clear my head. I heard you even before I had a glimpse of you, but I pay no mind as I turn from a shop window toward the street. A lady's voice echoes from the intercom of the car dealership across the road, asking for a John Switcher to please come to the parts centre service desk.
I finish taking a sip from my straw as you and your best friend, as I will come to find out, laugh and bump into each other to my back right. I turn to continue my trek down the sidewalk just as you are pushed into my lane of traffic. It happens so fast that I haven't the time to react as our bodies collide. I remember you laughing as you step back. I stare, dumbfounded, at your clean, untouched white polo to my near empty 20 once cup to, finally, my once pure white, Versace dress. Under normal circumstances, as you will come to find out, I would not have given much thought to the disasters that occur at least once in a lifetime. However, given my current state of mind, the level of circumstance had been plunged into the sky, and you happen to have burnt out my last fuse. I must say, though, you had it pretty easy compared to the few people lucky enough to be greeted by my temper.
“Sorry,” you say, half-heartedly might I add.
I curse, inhaling and pressing my lips together. I unconsciously look around, daring anyone to look me in the eye before settling my gaze on you.
“Uh, look, it's not that big of a deal.”
Even now, I still remember that you looked a little hollow-eyed; the angles in your face too distinct, as though you'd had a couple nights of bad sleep. Of course, my anger overrode my reasoning.
“Not that big of a deal?”
Again, I repeat; under normal circumstances, I would not have reacted so explosively. However, I seem to recall a strong want for a small fight.
“Well, yeah, I mean, just have it sent out to be dry-cleaned, or something.”
“Do you know how difficult it is to get Strawberry stains out of a white cotton dress?”
“Then go out and buy a new one.”
It amazes me how some people, meaning all men that aren't homosexual, come up with easy answers like that, not realizing that they aren't really that simple.
“This dress costs at least fifteen hundred dollars.”
Quite truthfully, not one of my best moments. In my anger I hadn't realized that perhaps you might take it the wrong way. And, of course, you had.
“Not a very good investment, was it?”
“It happened to be a gift!”
I hadn't realized I'd actually shouted until the words had left my mouth. I felt the distinct glow of heat as my face fills with blood, and I knew I looked like a ripe tomato without having to glance at a mirror. Without a second thought, I turn on my heel and head back toward my car. And you decide to tag along, if not to irritate me more.
“So why wear such an expensive dress out to the strip if you can't afford it?”
“I happen to have a wedding reception in a couple hours.”
“Then wear something different.”
I whip around, looking you dead in the eye. “I'm a bridesmaid, and this is the dress I'm supposed to be wearing.”
I can actually see the color fade slightly from your face before your brow furrows. “Then why are you wearing it here?”
Why do I rise to the bait? Because I'm just like my mother; headstrong and pig-headed with a two-tone touch of pride and a love/hate relationship with Humility.
“I happen to be having one helluva great day.”
As time passes, I will come to realize that these first impressions I have given to a few people I know end up in a fairly tight fellowship. At the time, however, I never thought I'd see you again as I drove away in my banged-up Pontiac back to the family I had walked out on. I didn't even look back, and as I think about it now, you gave me something no one else ever had, or could.
© 2014 Sami Jay. All Rights Reserved.
