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A Night From 1991

And why it is remembered.

By Katelyn Marie ClairPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 9 min read
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I was sitting on the flat concrete steps outside my back door smoking the butt of my last cigarette. I was dazed and absorbed into a muffled argument a couple yards away. My Walkman's battery died a few minutes into the shouting between the shop's new mechanic and a customer. As I began to hear the degree at which they were cursing, I became fixed on trying to figure out what I had missed.

I shared my ungated, paved backyard with the small parking lot of the even smaller towns' Garage. Crush stone and oil spills took root where I would have planted herb gardens and sunflowers. The roar under every car hood to and from that shop laughed out into the air until it was deafening and their fumes fouled it. The building was a few stories higher than the setting sun and I couldn't see the stars some nights when the mechanics worked late with their spot lights on. All these things I had to learn to live among now; a chameleon in the chaos. My lean, two story house swayed in between the outdated neighbourhoods but stilled me in the optimal position to fall in love with the girl in the apartment above the shop. The remembering of her pulled me out of the slowing argument, and directly towards the green light emitting from the second story window.

"Ouch!" The ember of my cigarette burned my fingers and I dropped it pulling me again, away from my intense focus.

"Are you ok?" Her voice could stop my heart faster than the sight of her red hair.

I removed my headphones immediately and smiled, "Yes thank you."

A smile perked up into the corners of her lips. "Well, that's good." She looked down at my chest, "That's a beautiful blouse."

All the blood that resided a second ago in my heart, flooded over my cheeks. And all I could do was push against them with a smile.

She began to walk towards the black metal staircase that lead up to the apartment above the shop but she stopped to ask me, "Are you free? I could use a hand," she juggled the brown paper grocery bags in her arms.

"Sure!" I shot up with an eagerness I felt was unbecoming of the more subtle conversation I had always engaged with her. She noticed with a smile and lead the way up the first and second set of loud stairs.

"Oh shoot, can you grab my keys for me? They're in my back pocket."

I looked down at the irregular denim shape along the curves of her body. My fingers were awkward feathers while I held open the pocket, trying not to touch the fabric that stayed firmly against her bum.

"Don't be so nervous," she laughed but I couldn't help it.

All of my life I was a single sheet of paper, billowing in the wind, afraid to brush up against a rose. Fearful not of thorns; the dismay of love I had seen too many times, but rather the possible fleeting, velvet love I knew that the petals could promise. I thought, as I fit the key into the lock, that perhaps the wind should be the one to fear and not the innocent rose it happened to bring me to.

Once the door was opened she walked into her house fast. She barely reached the counter before the condensation broke through the bottom of one of her bags. I tired staying alert to what she was saying about her groceries but my attention was employed by the oddities in her home. I knew what I was looking for and I didn't know if my efforts to conceal it were working but it mattered not when I found it.

"Do you like it?" Her voice was right behind me, my skin jumped in response. She walked forward and picked up the neon cactus light. The base of it fit in her hand.

"It's really cute. It gives off quite a large amount of light considering how tiny it is." The cord was of the same small scale and just before I had a chance to touch it, it shut off, the plug swinging into her leg.

"Shit!" She sat it back down on the table beside her bed. "You're right, it's way too bright sometimes." She looked out of the window that the cactus sat below. "You must be able to see it from your house."

All the time. I edited, "Oh yea, I guess I do sometimes." A lie across my lips but she was looking into my eyes. Our gazed fixed, my nerves not, I saw the delicate shade of freckles around her cheeks.

"Yea?" She moved closer. "Only sometimes?" Another step closer.

I nodded. I could smell the fire leftover on her from a cigarette she must have had earlier and I wondered how she possessed the ability to pass it off as an earthy fragrance. I was always so troubled by the tobacco on my skin yet on her it drew me in like nicotine.

The breeze coming from the window stilled when she bent forward, resting her lips at the corner of my mouth. Audibly, I sucked in my breath. She took my hand and used it to pull me in closer for a kiss that lingered between arousal and surprise. Her skin was hot, melting the fantasy over my heart until it covered every inch.

Before I had time to digest the feeling she had pulled away.

"You have such nice eyes." She stepped back even further and I disciplined my hands from pulling her back towards me.

"I'm really sorry to do this, but I need start making dinner." She walked passed me into the kitchen and the wind picked up again.

"Oh, are you having company over?" I stressed to sound casual while proccessing what just happened.

"Yea, my mom's coming over to help me pack." Her words were flat against the banging of pots and pans but their weight maintained.

"Packing? Are you going on vacation?" I stood awkwardly against the frame of the kitchen.

"No, I'm moving."

And that is when the hope around my heart shattered into needles and pierced threw my stomach. She went into an explanation of the opportunity out west and her aspirations, how wonderful her mom was for coming to help and her overwhelming joy for leaving this 'god forsaken town.' I found the smallest vacancy in my dismay to be happy for her but I knew it would expire in seconds. I wished her the best of luck and excused myself. The latch on the door was stuck, anxiety building with every turn. I could hear her walking closer to help me but it released me and swung open only seconds before her hand could reach me again.

Perhaps it really was her calling after me or it could have been a desire in my head, but I spent all my focus on getting down the shaky staircase as hastily and safely as I could. I thought she might have been watching me but it didn't stop me from running full pin towards my home. I slammed the door closed and locked the deadbolt for my heart.

After hours of sobbing on the floor by the door I picked myself up to the couch, avoiding my room and the blinding view it had of a green light. The steady stream of ads from the tv guide channel calmed my disappointment and pain until it rocked me into sleep. I dreamt of nothing and when morning came it felt as though I had resumed right where I left off the night before.

Heartbreak rose with the sun. My first kiss had so quickly come and faded into the memory of pain. I attacked myself with a list of things I should have said and practiced it in the shower until the words left all their meaning behind in the water. There was no one I knew who would sympathize without bigotry and so I had only myself to hold me. I told myself it would be ok a hundred times while applying mascara and painting my cheeks with blush. At 99 I began to believe it.

The slam of a metal door startled me and I took off towards my bedroom window just in time to see the moving truck rumble to life. I couldn't see her, or a woman who resembled a mother. Perhaps they were already gone. The truck followed the drive way through the parking lot of the shop, then merged onto the road that would take all the evidence of her away. Reflex brought my eyes towards her bedroom window with zero expectation but the absence of green light still stung.

I nearly jumped out of my towel when a bang came from the back door, my poor nerves had reached their limit. I pulled on my blue cotton robe and finished tying it around my waist once I reached the bottom of the stairs. My gut knew who it would be and that trust took root inside of me when it was confirmed by a bouquet of red hair as I opened my door.

"Oh! Did I get you out of the shower?" A hint of flirtation in her voice raised the hairs on my neck.

"No." I said plainly.

"Oh. Ok well I just wanted to say thanks for the hand yesterday." Her oblivion brought back the sting of needles.

"Is that all?" My courage soothed it.

A surprise crossed her eyes into a meanness I hadn't seen her wear before. She opened her mouth to protest but I poured myself into this new feeling before giving her the chance.

"You caught me at an inconvenient time, thanks for coming to say goodbye though. Good luck with everything out west." She barely had a chance to consume my attitude before I concluded. "Try not to kiss too many people out there."

I closed the door and locked the deadbolt this time for her benefit. Sadness crept back in the moment her face disappeared. I walked myself back over to the sofa, the guide channel still muted and rolling through an endless recycled list of infomercials. Stillness replaced sadness, and soon I began to see the titles on the screen. After the third rotation of programs I reached for the remote and turned it off. I closed my eyes, trying to listen for answers, when a small, steady whisper hummed my attention towards the TV's red standby light.

vintage
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About the Creator

Katelyn Marie Clair

Believer of Magic and Happiness

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