bike ride

june 2nd, 9:29pm

I’ve never felt so aloof, so dumb and dazed and suddenly biking, glasses slipping as the first hint of heartache found its place in my jaw. In mid April rain droplets covered everything as if the twin girls I babysat back home had come by and decorated my college campus with their giggles and stick-on jewels. I sat moments earlier in my dormitory basement with two friends, determined to end the most docile self-inflicted torture—a week or two of wanting to lay beside her to sleep, a week or two of rescheduling and visits that seemed hours too short—with a brief evening conversation. For these last few days I awoke to the air thin in my room, the floor at the foot of my bed appearing to be linoleum with nothing beneath. I found solace only in cancelling meetings last minute and running to the Connecticut river bridge and back, logging my worry in miles.

The last interaction that put me in distress was in the library. With me I had horse earrings I purchased a week or so earlier, ones I saw beside the hospice shop checkout counter, that were more so weird than they were sweet and perfect for her.

That day, I blushed as I read her texts complimenting the dresses I tried on at the hospice shop. She had tried on the Zara dress that I wore in one of the photos earlier in the week, she said, but attested that it suited me best. It seems I was already at the mercy of her words then. The rest of the afternoon was spent speaking so highly of her to my friend Bonnie who was visiting for the weekend, as she treated me to a latte and pie slice with money she earned from her recent teaching job in New York. It’s funny how college works, with a particular student club of 30 seeming more like a graduate’s true pride than the institution itself, with its more than generous academic endowment. Bonnie was this way with the synchronized swimming team, so I naturally accompanied her as her narp sidekick as she hollered in support of her old teammates. As I made my way to Bonnie after entering the humid pool gallery lit only by the lights beneath the water, I looked briefly to my right to see her kind, quiet smile and the warm autumn that framed her. I continued to the end of the gallery to meet Bonnie, and sent a couple of texts her way indicating my obligatory seating situation. The showcase concluded, I hugged Bonnie goodbye and left in attempt to beat the exit rush. I opened the door to a crowd of students already chattering and crouched over one another’s phones, but found that I suddenly stood next to her friends with whom she was apparently sitting. Somehow I thought she was there alone, thus the texts explaining my seating obligation. Perhaps it was then I should have known. We walked back to central campus from the athletic building wherein the showcase was held, and as we walked she held my hand and I was, for a moment, taken aback by her familiar but vivid beauty as she looked back at me. I told her then, too, that I thought she looked so pretty. I think I also might’ve apologized for the slight shock I experienced then. The rest of the evening was perfect. I can recall having felt that way just twice before, the complete disregard of time and space and words and borders of the world. Only we existed, the thread of time spun dizzily and the fabric around her room puffed up, embracing us with the softest cotton.

I didn’t intend to give the horse earrings immediately, and rather I was anxious to meet her there, mid-afternoon on the third floor of the library. It was a quiet section, and we hadn’t spent very much time together as of recent. But as soon as I sat down and got myself situated, I clumsily reached for the small white mesh pouch that contained the earrings.

After 30 minutes I felt myself beginning to cry. Surprised by my own sensitivity, I scribbled down a note saying that I would come by later, if she was free. She wore the earrings for the rest of the day, the two brown horses on white and brown checkered circular backdrops more weird than sweet, from the hospice shop next to the gas station downtown.

I asked for the earrings back in a pathetic attempt to wield my wounds against her, but in the end I embarrassed myself more. I guess, now, that I am just sad to have been so clumsy with my feelings. It may sound simple, but for me it was new.