Friday, September 03, 2010

The Story of Us (Part 1), In The Beginning...

In the beginning there was a girl, she was happy and inspired by life. She may have been a bit lonely, but she was planning a big move, across the US to seek a new life. This girl had been working at a local preschool for four years since she was 18. She had been through one serious relationship and few short-lived-not-so-serious ones. She was single and just beginning to feel like an adult. She was not looking for someone new, she was looking for herself.

She was living with her mother and sister again after just one year out of the house. Saving up for the big move, she had plans, she would head to Ohio where her oldest brother lived with his wife and daughter. She would spend some time with them, but ultimately she would start her own life. Doing what? She really didn't know, and she was excited.

Meanwhile over the grade in the big city there lived a boy. He was renting out his friend's dining room. he slept on a couch and all his possessions fit nicely into a few totes, except the shelf of punk rock records which were lovingly stored and often used.

He was working in the girl's town Monday through Friday and spending each night and all weekend partying. He was happy, though maybe a little bit lonely. He had been through a long and ultimately heart-breaking relationship and maybe thought that was all there was to love.

The girl was a friend of the boy's roommate, but did not ever go to his house. She rarely went down to the city, the mutual friend would stop by her house when he was in town.

So, it must have been fate the night she went to the city to meet a co-worker for a few drinks and maybe some dancing. She knew where the mutual friend lived, and so when she past by the house on her way to the bar and saw a man standing outside, she thought it was this friend. It was just a glance and she drove on by. Then she remembered, she did not have his phone number. And so she turned around, she would zip in the driveway, say hi, get his number and be on her way.

As soon as she stopped her car, she saw her mistake. It was not the mutual friend, it was the boy. He was standing on the stoop in his work shorts, running shoes, gas-station jacket with a cigarette in one hand and Seirra Nevada in the other. She felt embarrassed. Really she was a shy girl, just beginning to come out of her shell.

But he smiled, and his smile was beautiful. It was an open and inviting smile. It showed lots of teeth and dimples and joy. So she smiled back. They talked for a bit and she was surprised. She did not feel the least bit shy with him. She told him about her upcoming move and where she was headed for the night. Then she said she had to get going and asked for the phone number and for him to tell the mutual friend she had come by.

The boy stepped inside for a moment, and when he returned he handed her a Spitfire sticker and on the back he had written the mutual friends name with the phone number underneath it. And in very small letters written in haste between the name and number, he had added his own name.

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