Beginnings
We take the subway home together from school. She uses my shoulder as a pillow on the train even though it’s only one stop. I wish it was more than one stop. Lately when we reach our station we sit on the benches on the platform and talk. That’s what we’re doing now. I decided earlier that today is when I tell her that I like her.
I’m still figuring out the best way to say it so I’m not talking much. She can sense I’ve got something on my mind so she’s not talking much, either. We sit in silence waiting for the other to comment on it. Too much time passes. We should probably go home soon. I turn to her to finally pull the trigger.
Right at that moment we hear yelling. Ironically it’s the mime that I know works the corner of Bathurst and Wilson. He usually stands there, dressed up as Michael Jackson a la “Billie Jean” music video with white makeup painted onto his dark skin, and waves silently at passersby. Today he’s shouting obscenities at everything and nothing as he heads up the stairs to the platform. She and I wordlessly agree to get up and leave.
We reach the point where we both part ways. She looks at me.
“Well, see you tomorrow,” she says with a smile and a half shrug. She starts to walk away.
“Wait,” I call after her. She stops and turns around but doesn’t walk back. She’s still smiling a little. I have to do this. “I need to be honest with you,” I tell her. “I really wanted to kiss you back on the platform.”
The look on her face doesn’t change. My head is buzzing and I feel my ears get hot.
“Okay,” she responds, but she doesn’t move. I’ve never been in this situation before, so I don’t know if she means that it’s something she also wanted or if she’s just being dismissive. No one’s saying anything. She half turns away as if to leave.
“Wait,” I call again, “What about … do I get any honesty, too?” It’s a dumb and poorly worded question. She raises her shoulders as if to say, what do you want? I don’t know how I expected things to go, but I never expected things to go this way. She’s still smiling.
Everything in my head is telling me to just call it a day. Go home. It’s over. So, I’m surprised to find myself taking steps forward to close the gap between me and her. I’m right in front of her. I lean in. I kiss her.
“See you tomorrow,” she says, echoing herself from earlier. She doesn’t look at me and instead hurries out of the station. I’m in a daze. I walk to the bus platform, overly aware of the sensation in my lips. I look at the people walking by and think: they have no idea I’ve just had my first kiss. I know they wouldn’t give a shit, but for whatever reason I feel proud. I feel like I’m part of a new world, like I’ve just joined this club of sexually awakened adults. I take the bus home. Almost immediately I get a call from her.
“I’d like to do that again,” she says.
Way It Was is a writing project and ongoing attempt to work through a lot of relationship related shit. Find out more about it here.
