"You been saying the right things all night long, but I can't seem to get you over here to help take this off."
He couldn't help but wondering if tonight of all nights was the night he would experience the bittersweet irony of love. Jonah had only gone out to a bar to hang out with his friends, have a couple of beers and talk sports. But he walked in the bar, saw Michelle, and simply could not leave.
And Michelle had talked to him. She smiled coyly, sat leisurely, looked him straight in the eye, and laughed with him. She flirted with him and although he knew it was the drinks influence, Jonah fell for it.
So here they were. How stupidly he had volunteered to take her home. She had clearly sobered up in the car. Her directions had become clearer and clearer during the 20 minute drive and she walked into her apartment with ease. So she was sobered. And she still wanted him.
Michelle sat beside him. She led the conversation into scandalous talk. She put her hand on his knee and pressed her body against his on the couch.
Yet Jonah resisted. He had imagined this situation dozens of time. Except it wasn't some bar fluke that led them to this moment; it was Michelle recognizing Jonah's adoration of her and reciprocating. There was real affection, not a lustful passion. Jonah wanted more than this temporary infatuation. He wanted her to look at him, see him, and still want him.
But the realization came with a rush that Michelle may never feel this way. Or that this could be his opportunity to show his feelings. Either way, this was not a moment he should let slip past. So he didn't.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
turn the page
"I never had a love that I loved so much."
Annie was seventeen years old and had been in love at least six times. Her friends didn't find it amazing anymore. Her parents actually found it amusing. After all, Annie was a good kid. She kept her grades up, stayed out of trouble, and did her chores. What more could parents want?
So let's see.. There were Mike and Jay her freshmen year. Both were upperclassmen, both ended up being scumbags, and the "love" for both lasted about three months each. Sophomore year the "love" was even briefer, lasting only a few weeks for Thad, Danny, and Henry. Junior year was a bit more deceptive. Annie and Aaron were together for six months before everything fell apart. So of course no one was surprised or particularly interested when Annie came home from her first day as a senior and was head over heels for a boy named Sean.
Annie met Sean outside her trigonometry class. There outside the most dreaded classroom on campus stood the most amazing boy. The two had chatted and when class ended, Sean was outside that door waiting to talk some more. Annie's friends rolled their eyes, nudged each other, and murmured non-discreetly: Annie had found her new "love" for the school year. They wagered if this one would last as long as Aaron.
But Annie was absorbed in something else. Sean. Not his popularity, his car, his athletic abilities, his smile or eyes, his style, or his wide group of friends. It was him. The way she had to fight back the urge to hold his hand as they walked side by side. The way his voice made every organ in her body do cartwheels. The illogical and inexplicable safety she felt in his presence, as though she were shielded from all harm and free to share her deepest secrets. This breathtaking awe that surrounded every movement he made.
Suddenly all the trivial conversations about movies and grades and teachers and parents and video games and celeb gossip seemed ridiculous. Inconsequential and an utter waste of time. Annie wanted to talk about her dreams and wanted him to encourage her. She wanted to share her fears and wanted him to help her conquer them. She wanted desperately to share her soul with this complete stranger because some part of her just knew that to do so would complete her. Would fill that empty spot in her life that she suddenly realized was loneliness.
The only real question was if he loved her too.
Annie was seventeen years old and had been in love at least six times. Her friends didn't find it amazing anymore. Her parents actually found it amusing. After all, Annie was a good kid. She kept her grades up, stayed out of trouble, and did her chores. What more could parents want?
So let's see.. There were Mike and Jay her freshmen year. Both were upperclassmen, both ended up being scumbags, and the "love" for both lasted about three months each. Sophomore year the "love" was even briefer, lasting only a few weeks for Thad, Danny, and Henry. Junior year was a bit more deceptive. Annie and Aaron were together for six months before everything fell apart. So of course no one was surprised or particularly interested when Annie came home from her first day as a senior and was head over heels for a boy named Sean.
Annie met Sean outside her trigonometry class. There outside the most dreaded classroom on campus stood the most amazing boy. The two had chatted and when class ended, Sean was outside that door waiting to talk some more. Annie's friends rolled their eyes, nudged each other, and murmured non-discreetly: Annie had found her new "love" for the school year. They wagered if this one would last as long as Aaron.
But Annie was absorbed in something else. Sean. Not his popularity, his car, his athletic abilities, his smile or eyes, his style, or his wide group of friends. It was him. The way she had to fight back the urge to hold his hand as they walked side by side. The way his voice made every organ in her body do cartwheels. The illogical and inexplicable safety she felt in his presence, as though she were shielded from all harm and free to share her deepest secrets. This breathtaking awe that surrounded every movement he made.
Suddenly all the trivial conversations about movies and grades and teachers and parents and video games and celeb gossip seemed ridiculous. Inconsequential and an utter waste of time. Annie wanted to talk about her dreams and wanted him to encourage her. She wanted to share her fears and wanted him to help her conquer them. She wanted desperately to share her soul with this complete stranger because some part of her just knew that to do so would complete her. Would fill that empty spot in her life that she suddenly realized was loneliness.
The only real question was if he loved her too.
control
"When you get the chance just take control."
Jerome had run this same path home everyday for the past two years. He felt that it was stupid to run, a bit too stereotypical even for his stereotypical neighborhood. But illogical fear outweighed his desire to be reasonable and objective. So he ran home. Some days it was more of a jog. Days when his fear was mixed with enough courage to want to take a look around. And the days when his body was too tired or sick to really run.
Today Jerome ran home. And to anyone who had been witness to his daily routine would likely not have seen the difference. But today there was a difference. Jerome ran home carried by excitement. He could barely feel his feet pounding the pavement. He was too busy thinking. His brain steadily accepting and molding the idea that had manifested in third period geometry. Jerome had sat quietly at lunch, processing his idea but maintaining his excitement. But now his jubilance propelled him homewards as his mind thought through the last vestiges of his idea. No longer an idea really, more like a plan.
A plan that had begun with three little words from his geometry teacher and a trifold pamphlet scattered with pictures of happy white kids. Summer Math Camp. Although Jerome was not white and rarely happy, he saw that pamphlet and knew instantly he had to be at this camp. The tuition was more than his parents made in two months, but strangely even to him that was not a deterrent.
So Jerome had spent his day thinking and plotting and talking to math teachers, his guidance counselor and even the assistant principal. Now he would spend his night talking to his parents. He had his plan, his logic was as flawless as possible, and he had no doubt he could convince them to let him go.
Jerome had been waiting for something to give him an edge. To provide him with more opportunity than he had been born into. Here was one small chance and he was determined to take it. This camp was within his grasp. In fact, he felt like it was practically placed on a platter and served to him. He wanted this chance and he was going to take it. After all this was his life. And he was the only person who could grab a hold of it steer it in the direction he wanted it to go.
Jerome had run this same path home everyday for the past two years. He felt that it was stupid to run, a bit too stereotypical even for his stereotypical neighborhood. But illogical fear outweighed his desire to be reasonable and objective. So he ran home. Some days it was more of a jog. Days when his fear was mixed with enough courage to want to take a look around. And the days when his body was too tired or sick to really run.
Today Jerome ran home. And to anyone who had been witness to his daily routine would likely not have seen the difference. But today there was a difference. Jerome ran home carried by excitement. He could barely feel his feet pounding the pavement. He was too busy thinking. His brain steadily accepting and molding the idea that had manifested in third period geometry. Jerome had sat quietly at lunch, processing his idea but maintaining his excitement. But now his jubilance propelled him homewards as his mind thought through the last vestiges of his idea. No longer an idea really, more like a plan.
A plan that had begun with three little words from his geometry teacher and a trifold pamphlet scattered with pictures of happy white kids. Summer Math Camp. Although Jerome was not white and rarely happy, he saw that pamphlet and knew instantly he had to be at this camp. The tuition was more than his parents made in two months, but strangely even to him that was not a deterrent.
So Jerome had spent his day thinking and plotting and talking to math teachers, his guidance counselor and even the assistant principal. Now he would spend his night talking to his parents. He had his plan, his logic was as flawless as possible, and he had no doubt he could convince them to let him go.
Jerome had been waiting for something to give him an edge. To provide him with more opportunity than he had been born into. Here was one small chance and he was determined to take it. This camp was within his grasp. In fact, he felt like it was practically placed on a platter and served to him. He wanted this chance and he was going to take it. After all this was his life. And he was the only person who could grab a hold of it steer it in the direction he wanted it to go.
Friday, August 21, 2009
pretty brown eyes
"You keep telling me that your time is always taken. But I keep seeing you out alone."
Jordan always saw Daniella when she walked by. He saw what everyone saw. The long legs. The toned body. The dark hair. The brown eyes. The radiant smile. Her clothes, car, and accessories were all just as seemingly perfect as she was. Everything about her compelled you to look at her.
Jordan often looked at her and wondered. Wondered if women were jealous of her. Wanting her confidence or her boobs or her job. Wondered if men... No, he knew what men were thinking when they looked at her. After all, he often caught himself thinking the same thing.
But Jordan had worked side by side with Daniella for nearly two years. He knew that all was not perfect there. They work at a nonprofit that provides resources to terminally ill people. Jordan had often seen Daniella's strong facade splinter, even if only for a second. He had never seen her go on a date. And never heard her talk about any member of her family except a younger sister in college.
Yes, Jordan looked at Daniella and thought about all the things people saw. All the ways that made her perfect. He thought about all the things he saw. Her sacrifice, dedication, hope. All the things that made her beautiful.
But mostly he wondered what did she see when she looked in the mirror. And when would she stop for just a moment, just long enough to really look at herself and her life. Look to see how lonely she truly is.
Jordan always saw Daniella when she walked by. He saw what everyone saw. The long legs. The toned body. The dark hair. The brown eyes. The radiant smile. Her clothes, car, and accessories were all just as seemingly perfect as she was. Everything about her compelled you to look at her.
Jordan often looked at her and wondered. Wondered if women were jealous of her. Wanting her confidence or her boobs or her job. Wondered if men... No, he knew what men were thinking when they looked at her. After all, he often caught himself thinking the same thing.
But Jordan had worked side by side with Daniella for nearly two years. He knew that all was not perfect there. They work at a nonprofit that provides resources to terminally ill people. Jordan had often seen Daniella's strong facade splinter, even if only for a second. He had never seen her go on a date. And never heard her talk about any member of her family except a younger sister in college.
Yes, Jordan looked at Daniella and thought about all the things people saw. All the ways that made her perfect. He thought about all the things he saw. Her sacrifice, dedication, hope. All the things that made her beautiful.
But mostly he wondered what did she see when she looked in the mirror. And when would she stop for just a moment, just long enough to really look at herself and her life. Look to see how lonely she truly is.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
this house
"We've got to take the time to search the mind to find..."
Noelle had searched the entire classroom for that box. She had only been teaching this class for three weeks and she was overwhelmed. More importantly, she was out of fresh ideas. Today had been shoe box day. Everyone had to bring in their favorite shoebox and she brought in a bunch of plain ones. The kids had to paint the plain ones to match the ones they brought.
Of course only a few the students had gotten remotely close. After all they were only in the first grade. And art was a mandatory class. Of course there were kids who didn't bring boxes so she had grabbed some of her shoe boxes from the closet and brought them in. Noelle had grabbed three boxes from her personal collection. And she knew the three students that would be without. Andy, Jolie, and Mark.
But now her shoebox was missing. Noelle sat down defeated at her oversized desk. She wondered if one of the kids had taken it home or whether they had simply trashed it because it meant nothing to them. To Noelle it was the sacred home to her most prized pair of shoes. The golden, strappy Jimmy Choos. She nearly teared imagining her treasured shoes sitting unprotected on her closet floor.
Just then a parent appeared at her door. At least she thought it was a parent. This woman looked more tired and overworked than the parents she was used to in this private school. The woman identified herself as Andy's mother and handed her the missing shoebox. The mother apologized and left abruptly.
Noelle took her returned box home triumphantly. During the night she became more and more restless as to why Andy took her shoebox. Despite never having his materials for class, he was an attentive, respectful, and bright kid. The next day, Noelle called Andy into her class during the recess and asked him about his actions.
Andy explained bashfully. His mother was a waitress and wore the same shoes everyday. She always complained about those shoes. She had said they were an eyesore. Andy reasoned that since Noelle had so many shoe boxes she wouldn't miss one, so he took the box he thought was the fanciest home to his mother. Then maybe she would like her shoes more too.
Andy returned to recess and Noelle sat her desk too stunned to even tear up. She thought bitterly about the way she coveted that stupid shoebox for shoes she wore maybe twice a year. It all seemed so stupid now. Here little Andy had used twice as much knowledge and ten times as much kindness than her.
Noelle had Andy stay after the next day. She wanted to send the real box but it occurred to her that Andy's mother might take offense. So the two created a replica. As Noelle sent Andy home grinning ear to ear, she wondered what else she had been missing in these children. She had been so focused on herself, her lesson plans, her parent-teacher conferences. She realized she had barely scratched the surface of what these kids were capable of.
Noelle had searched the entire classroom for that box. She had only been teaching this class for three weeks and she was overwhelmed. More importantly, she was out of fresh ideas. Today had been shoe box day. Everyone had to bring in their favorite shoebox and she brought in a bunch of plain ones. The kids had to paint the plain ones to match the ones they brought.
Of course only a few the students had gotten remotely close. After all they were only in the first grade. And art was a mandatory class. Of course there were kids who didn't bring boxes so she had grabbed some of her shoe boxes from the closet and brought them in. Noelle had grabbed three boxes from her personal collection. And she knew the three students that would be without. Andy, Jolie, and Mark.
But now her shoebox was missing. Noelle sat down defeated at her oversized desk. She wondered if one of the kids had taken it home or whether they had simply trashed it because it meant nothing to them. To Noelle it was the sacred home to her most prized pair of shoes. The golden, strappy Jimmy Choos. She nearly teared imagining her treasured shoes sitting unprotected on her closet floor.
Just then a parent appeared at her door. At least she thought it was a parent. This woman looked more tired and overworked than the parents she was used to in this private school. The woman identified herself as Andy's mother and handed her the missing shoebox. The mother apologized and left abruptly.
Noelle took her returned box home triumphantly. During the night she became more and more restless as to why Andy took her shoebox. Despite never having his materials for class, he was an attentive, respectful, and bright kid. The next day, Noelle called Andy into her class during the recess and asked him about his actions.
Andy explained bashfully. His mother was a waitress and wore the same shoes everyday. She always complained about those shoes. She had said they were an eyesore. Andy reasoned that since Noelle had so many shoe boxes she wouldn't miss one, so he took the box he thought was the fanciest home to his mother. Then maybe she would like her shoes more too.
Andy returned to recess and Noelle sat her desk too stunned to even tear up. She thought bitterly about the way she coveted that stupid shoebox for shoes she wore maybe twice a year. It all seemed so stupid now. Here little Andy had used twice as much knowledge and ten times as much kindness than her.
Noelle had Andy stay after the next day. She wanted to send the real box but it occurred to her that Andy's mother might take offense. So the two created a replica. As Noelle sent Andy home grinning ear to ear, she wondered what else she had been missing in these children. She had been so focused on herself, her lesson plans, her parent-teacher conferences. She realized she had barely scratched the surface of what these kids were capable of.
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