and
color .
I’d been running since sixth grade. It was
the only thing that had stopped the phone calls—the ones my parents
used to get from school.
“ We’re a little concerned.”
“ He lacks focus.”
“ We asked the kids to hand in a report
about their favorite book. Troy picked four. None of which he
finished.”
My curiosity was my downfall. I wanted to see
everything, learn everything, taste everything. All at once. I
snuck into classes not meant for me. Sex Ed when I should have been
in Math. Splatter Painting when I should have been drawing apples
in the Still Life class. I ate when I was hungry, instead of when I
was supposed to. I talked in the library and whistled in class. I
winked at all the girls and declared undying love for my fourth
grade teacher. I was a disruptive, albeit charming, rule-breaker,
and had to be dragged back to my desk countless times, by my
ear.
It got better once I started channeling all
my extra energy into running. My grades improved, I wasn’t bouncing
off the walls and kids weren’t as intimidated by me. I leaned out,
made the track team and kept running—even now, when I was in
college. Why mess with a good thing, right?
I took a swig of water and spotted a pair of
long-legged girls walking my way. Heck, I loved summer. Sweet
things in tank tops and short shorts. They looked at me. One said
something to the other and then they looked away. They stole
another glance as they got closer, and giggled.
Women. So fucking irresistible. Coy, feisty,
sporty, nerdy, glamour dolls, book worms, hot, cool. I was a slave
to their charms. And it didn’t hurt that they seemed to gravitate
towards me.
“Morning, girls.” I slowed down as they
passed.
They smiled and batted their eyelashes. The
blond elbowed the brunette and they laughed some more.
I turned around and watched them walk
away.
Damn those short shorts.
I was still reverse-walking, my eyes on the
sweet summer girls, when I collided into someone.
I say ‘collide’ because I didn’t just bump
into her. I sent her flying.
“Whoa! Are you all right? I didn’t see you
there.”
She didn’t reply. She was on her knees,
trying to collect all the papers she’d dropped. They were quickly
getting swept down the street. I intercepted one with my foot and
ran the others down.
“Here you go.” I knelt beside her and handed
her the pile.
That’s when I first saw her face.
At the time, I was completely clueless about
just how significant that moment was, how it would derail both our
lives, because at the time I was just an ordinary guy looking at an
ordinary girl on a quiet, shaded street. That’s how a lot of things
start, don’t they? Our most profound experiences, our greatest
adventures. When we’re just looking. Because if we knew that we
were really at the beginning of miracles and plagues, and slayings
and resurrections, we might retreat. But not knowing, I kept
looking. And so did she.
Except she didn’t just look at me, she
looked into me. As if she saw a place there that she’d
always wanted to go, and it stunned her that it actually
existed.
I forgot the papers in my hand, forgot
everything but the delicate starkness of her face. She wasn’t
cover-girl gorgeous. No. Her beauty came from some place deeper,
some dark, hollow void that sucked up all of my scattered, restless
energy. And for the first time I knew stillness. I was there, all there in that moment, not wanting to run off to the next
one, or the one after that, or the one after that. Because that
moment, that short, random suspension of me and her, was more
loaded than anything I’d chased after.
She was wearing an ill-fitting yellow dress,
buttoned up to the collar. Her hair was swept carelessly to the
side. So much of it. Long, dark, curly. It glowed with red
highlights where the sun touched it, like fiery pieces of stoked
coal. She regarded me with eyes that were the shape of almonds;
dark espresso eyes, flecked with cinnamon. She
color .
I’d been running since sixth grade. It was
the only thing that had stopped the phone calls—the ones my parents
used to get from school.
“ We’re a little concerned.”
“ He lacks focus.”
“ We asked the kids to hand in a report
about their favorite book. Troy picked four. None of which he
finished.”
My curiosity was my downfall. I wanted to see
everything, learn everything, taste everything. All at once. I
snuck into classes not meant for me. Sex Ed when I should have been
in Math. Splatter Painting when I should have been drawing apples
in the Still Life class. I ate when I was hungry, instead of when I
was supposed to. I talked in the library and whistled in class. I
winked at all the girls and declared undying love for my fourth
grade teacher. I was a disruptive, albeit charming, rule-breaker,
and had to be dragged back to my desk countless times, by my
ear.
It got better once I started channeling all
my extra energy into running. My grades improved, I wasn’t bouncing
off the walls and kids weren’t as intimidated by me. I leaned out,
made the track team and kept running—even now, when I was in
college. Why mess with a good thing, right?
I took a swig of water and spotted a pair of
long-legged girls walking my way. Heck, I loved summer. Sweet
things in tank tops and short shorts. They looked at me. One said
something to the other and then they looked away. They stole
another glance as they got closer, and giggled.
Women. So fucking irresistible. Coy, feisty,
sporty, nerdy, glamour dolls, book worms, hot, cool. I was a slave
to their charms. And it didn’t hurt that they seemed to gravitate
towards me.
“Morning, girls.” I slowed down as they
passed.
They smiled and batted their eyelashes. The
blond elbowed the brunette and they laughed some more.
I turned around and watched them walk
away.
Damn those short shorts.
I was still reverse-walking, my eyes on the
sweet summer girls, when I collided into someone.
I say ‘collide’ because I didn’t just bump
into her. I sent her flying.
“Whoa! Are you all right? I didn’t see you
there.”
She didn’t reply. She was on her knees,
trying to collect all the papers she’d dropped. They were quickly
getting swept down the street. I intercepted one with my foot and
ran the others down.
“Here you go.” I knelt beside her and handed
her the pile.
That’s when I first saw her face.
At the time, I was completely clueless about
just how significant that moment was, how it would derail both our
lives, because at the time I was just an ordinary guy looking at an
ordinary girl on a quiet, shaded street. That’s how a lot of things
start, don’t they? Our most profound experiences, our greatest
adventures. When we’re just looking. Because if we knew that we
were really at the beginning of miracles and plagues, and slayings
and resurrections, we might retreat. But not knowing, I kept
looking. And so did she.
Except she didn’t just look at me, she
looked into me. As if she saw a place there that she’d
always wanted to go, and it stunned her that it actually
existed.
I forgot the papers in my hand, forgot
everything but the delicate starkness of her face. She wasn’t
cover-girl gorgeous. No. Her beauty came from some place deeper,
some dark, hollow void that sucked up all of my scattered, restless
energy. And for the first time I knew stillness. I was there, all there in that moment, not wanting to run off to the next
one, or the one after that, or the one after that. Because that
moment, that short, random suspension of me and her, was more
loaded than anything I’d chased after.
She was wearing an ill-fitting yellow dress,
buttoned up to the collar. Her hair was swept carelessly to the
side. So much of it. Long, dark, curly. It glowed with red
highlights where the sun touched it, like fiery pieces of stoked
coal. She regarded me with eyes that were the shape of almonds;
dark espresso eyes, flecked with cinnamon. She
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