I can't quite recall how she got brought up, but I do vividly remember sitting in the stands of a robotics competition, casually discussing with my fake friend the current whereabouts of a past crush, without revealing any feelings about said crush.
Let's establish some names so that I can continue in a decent manner. I will not provide the fake friend's name, because I am afraid that she will find out and then I will have to talk about her about being a fake friend to her, and I really don't want to talk to her about being a fake friend. Actually, I don't want to talk to her in general, because she's really annoying and has a habit of trying to possess the space that I inhabit while we speak. My right foot hurt for a day after this competition, because she stands on my left and I spent so much time leaning away from her. But that's a story for another time. For the sake of brevity, let's call her Carpet-Stain, which suits a generic thorn in my side.
Then there's the crush, and you can have her real name, because what's the worst case scenario? She finds this and feels honored that I gave her the greatest gift I could give? She feels creeped out because the lesbian from senior year set her dangerous sites on her? Ugh, homophobia is so 2014. Anyway, her name's Marlina, but I call her Marina, because she was on robotics TV this one time and they misspelled her name. Actually, she was so nervous that when they asked for her name, she spelled it "Marling," combining her first and last name. She returned to the pit shaking, breathing heavily, eyes wide like a deer, when she confided this to me. Fortunately, they did not misspell it as "Marling." Instead, they misspelled it as Marina (like the diamonds) when they gave a pop-up identifier, like TV shows do. Not many people know about Marling; Marina was the name that stuck.
I know so many random facts about her. I was such a little lesbian.
She was a senior and I was a freshman (Don't be appalled; it's love, I couldn't help it). We went to different schools. She and I programmed together. She was the best programmer on the team, and I wanted to be just like her. Drawn to power like a moth drawn to light, I hung out around her, in order to get some skills. Repeated exposure to her made me realize that I'd rather have her than the skills. Fortunately, I got both, as she was the one who mentored me for most of the season (sound like a romance novel? Make it a tragedy, 'cause she's straight like a line!). I confessed to my family that I loved her way sooner than the other crushes (my first crush took two years and the second took three months; this one took about one month), and was finally coming to terms with my sexuality, so I decided to enjoy the crush instead of "suppressing the monster within" and enjoyed her company while deciding never to reveal any crush-like symptoms. Because of this, I was able to get over her by the time she left for college.
Well, sort of. I don't think you can ever really get over past crushes. Especially not when you're a songwriter like me and you make a living off your past heartbreaks.
Anyway, I was sitting in the rock-hard stands with the lights shining in my eyes when Carpet Stain brought up Marlina, claiming that she "didn't really like her." I guess I could see that: Marlina was popular and charismatic, not because she was shallow but because she genuinely cared about other people. Carpet Stain was socially awkward with few friends, suffocating the ones she did manage to capture. Marlina's carefree spirit didn't mesh well with Carpet Stain's worrisome demeanor. I, being a playful extrovert, preferred the magnetic personality of Marlina.
In spite of my empathy for Carpet Stain, I also had a special connection to Marlina, and had spent most of those crush-months analyzing her and getting to understand her. Sure, I had found some ugly things, but I had found some reasons why, and felt like Marlina was a beautiful, tragic song that I had dissected. What's more, Carpet Stain appeared to dislike the metaphorical tragic song.
So I defended her in a very unassuming way, focusing on her flaws to try to deviate from the shadow of my idolatry, and once I got a minute away from Carpet Stain's suffocating presence, I started to wonder. What would happen if we met up?
The writer in me said, "I'll tell you."
Here, I was fictionally whisked into an alternate reality, or whatever you want to use to explain the fact that I was in the pit, in the downtime between robot repairs, a year after Marlina's departure, and Marlina was walking toward the pit.
She hadn't changed a bit. Still smaller than my heterosexuality, yet still with an air of authority about her as she strode toward the pit. She was decked out in her university's gear, for she was the type who would go to the football games and enjoy them, and had a purse full of things, because she was always prepared. Still with that perfume--oh, god, what that perfume did to me. Nothing brings me back quite like a scent.
I smiled to see her, then bit my lip to contain my smile, because something about her brought me back to a year ago, when I had less confidence than Marlina's height. Fuck it, I thought, this is probably the only time you'll see her. With this feeling of no consequences fueling me, I made my way to the girl who had improved my life so long ago, and with a great smile, said:
"Marlina!"
Sure, I had just said the name to Carpet Stain earlier, but saying it to her face made it somehow heavier than Marlina was tiny (okay, I'll stop roasting her for her height). Her dark eyes seemed to be expecting more. I wanted to hug her, but that's gay, so I settled for continued conversation.
"I haven't seen you in so long. How have things been at university?" A subtle way of saying "I want to tell you all about how my life has changed."
She seemed smaller, now. My heart was pounding, but not the way it did before. The butterflies in my stomach were quiet. Maybe dead. It was like a time warp, seeing her here again. Crazy, but completely unreal. Maybe that's the way it should be.
"It's been amazing," she said, dark eyes filled with wonder. "I've been having so much fun, but let me tell you, Calc 3 is crazy."
I sighed. "That's next year for me," I told her, strategically placing a pout on my face.
"What? No way. I thought [name of my evil old school] only went up to Calc 1?"
I laughed. "I'm at a new school now," I told her. "I'm actually half in college." I went on to explain my early college program, which I've probably explained before to you.
"Wow. You and me, college kids." Her eyes sparkled, a playful grin carving dimples into her freckles. God, she was cute. Even as a motherfucking college student. "So, how are you still on the team, then?"
"Lots of hard work." The thing was, even though I had so much to say to her, it wasn't her I wanted to say it to. I have an interesting life story. In fact, my life is quite captivating, for a mortal human who is still in the "aspiring" phase of the songwriter career. But Marlina wasn't the one who deserved it. She was just a tiny crush--idolatry, really--that I'd had as a freshman, back when I thought I needed a girl to get me through this. I don't need a girl now. Not when I have my confidence, my music, my book girlfriends, and Miley Cyrus's Instagram feed. I guess I just wanted someone to talk to, to take through the roller coaster of my life. I was tired of keeping it inside myself.
Honestly, this isn't how I intended for this story to go. But it's clear now: in real life, I'll never see Marlina again. Or any of my other crushes. I may have amazing stories about them that I'm dying to tell (especially my first crush, stay tuned), but they don't need to be saved for someone special, and they shouldn't be told like this.
I guess I was wrong. While I'll carry around a tiny piece of her with me, I think the majority of our relationship is as dead as she is short.
