Between Two Eternities || Travis Hamonic

(4) I Remember Thinking About Forever

"I had always thought one could not truly be lost if one knew one's own heart. But I fear I may be lost without knowing yours."

-Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

Timid. It means to show a lack of confidence.

That can describe me around Travis. If he recognized me, he didn't say it. Here's to hoping it stays that way. Here's to hope.

He shows us around the arena, specifically the locker room. Matt walks next to him, whereas I follow them like a lost puppy. The back of Travis's neck is strong and tan, and he is a very attractive walker ...

It's a busy place, even though the game has been over for at least an hour. People are walking fast, some with bags over their shoulders, others with pairs of skates in their arms, and others with suits on and folders stacked high in hands.

We walk past one room that is dark. Through the cracked door there is a large screen on one wall visible. "That's where we watch film," Travis explains when he sees me and Matt both staring.

The locker room is huge and spacious and everything is organized into neat stalls.
Matt gravitates over to one with a metal name plate secured above it. TAVARES, it says. He touches everything. He thinks it'll give him good luck. Luck is such an odd thing, I'm surprised that Matthew believes in it.

I stand back a bit from the kid and Travis stands next to me. Oh he is so close, I can smell his fresh cologne. I had never noticed a guys's cologne before. Of all the insignificant things I notice about people, I've never noticed a guy's cologne enough to remember it for days after.

He is so attractive. More than I remember from the grocery store. His calves are very visibly muscular and tan under the blue shorts with the Islanders logo on the bottom. And that was just his legs. I can't see his arms under the blue pullover, but I bet they're just as muscular, based on the way the fabric clings to him.

I still don't know if he's more attractive than Bobby Hurd. I think he is ... but how could I abandon Bobby Hurd after so many years? It's not like he abandoned me or anything ... not in my thoughts, I think about him all the time. When I get a good grade on an exam, I want to call Bobby and tell him all about question 23 and how impossible it was. When I have Thursday therapy, I want to tell him how ridiculous Jeremy is. But I never do.

I never pick up the phone. He probably has a different number by now.

I watch over Matt, who is so excited by everything. Like he doesn't think anything is real. I'm desperate for him to release himself from the bounds of life. The bounds of a life with no money. No resources.

Like a starless midnight. Empty promises. Like Bobby Hurd. Like an ocean with no fish or no waves.

It was the way he never asked for things like he used to. He really needs to get his desire back. So do I, I suppose. My desires are singular.

I know Travis wants to say something by how he shifts towards me a little bit. I can feel him glance over at me, and then look away, and then look back for a slight second longer. All this meaning he could most definitely see the blush coming to my cheeks.

Ya know, some things you just know? Like how you know the sun's gonna come up. Sometimes I still question the sun.

I don't know if I want him to say something, to ruin the silence. I like the imagination, the guessing if he would say something. Words have no power to impress like imagination does. I can create the most wonderful world, but then reality will ruin it. Always.

You should've known me when I was eighteen. I had just been accepted to NYU, and Bobby was as well. I had it all planned out. I only found out later that Bobby didn't have the same plans.

Travis finally spoke.

"Did he like those Oreos?"

He recognized me. My grocery store looks aren't my best. If I even had a best. But if I did, it certainly was not ponytails and sweatpants.

"Yeah." My voice is hoarse. Of all the times ...

I clear my throat, praying that the next time I speak, my voice would be normal. "He, uhm ... they're his favorite."

I don't trust myself to talk around the opposite sex. It doesn't work, as just demonstrated by myself. I don't even like boys. What I mean is, I don't have time for boys. Who am I kidding, I don't have a life. But boys are complicated. They just ruin the norm.

Boys kiss you and hold your hand, they tell you that you make life worth living and let you teach them how to braid your hair, they walk slightly in front of you when you go down the street and look at you like their little sister and love of their life all at the same time.

Of course that stuff doesn't last.

It's not even screaming and fighting that kills it. It's the unspoken questions that kill both of you and anything between you. His unexpected desires will always outlast you. A person's dreams will never be insignificant to another person.

Especially boys who know countless other girls will fall in love with them when they tell them their smile is the most beautiful thing in this universe. Personally, I think stars are.

Boys are the reality that ruins the imagination.

"He's a great kid," Travis comments with a smile. Gosh that smile. It's the most beautiful thing in the universe.

I nod, "Yeah." I already know he's a great kid. He has a fist full of stick tape in his hand at the moment, feeling to see if it is any different than the roll he's got at home.

"So," Travis sits down and pats the space beside him. I could say I reluctantly sat down, but it wasn't reluctant at all. His arms are taut, resting on his knees.

"What's it like for him? Is he depressed or...?" he trails off, whispering so only I can hear. So Matt won't hear; he is too occupied with one of the equipment managers showing him stuff anyway.

I am surprised by the concern displayed by Travis. I mean, honestly what did I expect? I expected him to show us around, sign a few things, and send us off.

If there's one thing I have learned in my twenty some years of life, it's that people don't actually care, for real.

"He doesn't tell ... I think he's okay," I change my response midway through, after thinking about the situation. Should I really be telling a complete stranger stuff about my little brother? Personal stuff.

Hell no. "After all, it's been three years."

Travis looks at me. I guess he wants me to keep talking. Too bad he won't be getting any more information than that. His eyes are way too distracting to talk about serious stuff.

There's no way a guy like this is allowed to look at me like that. It should be illegal. It's too tantalizing.

"Three years doesn't mean it gets any easier," he says, eyes boring into mine.

I don't have anything else to say, so a silence overcomes the space between us. The healthy amount of space between us ...