She was sweet. Maybe too sweet. From the moment I saw her, I didn’t stop thinking about her. She was short, black, drop dead gorgeous.
I had just started working at a movie theater. It was to be my last job in highschool before I left. At that time, she could do no wrong. She could have me, any way she wanted, anywhere. She… well she noticed me, but it would be a while before anything sparked. Over time we developed a relationship. Finally we kissed and I got the nerve to ask her out. She said yes.
Things were quick. Too quick. It wasn’t that long before we were living together; in some kind of haze that only young love can produce. I’d forgotten myself. I’d forgotten all my dreams and ambitions. All I wanted was her. And now that I had her, I was content.
She was sweet. Maybe too sweet. And the softest lips I’ve ever known. Most of our time together I don’t recall. I can only remember a few things she said. Those things, while not profound, don’t seem to be leaving me anytime soon. I can mostly remember scenes, images, and brief flashes. I have no way of knowing if they’re real or not anymore. If they ever were? The ghost of our love would haunt me for a while to come and wouldn’t leave me alone. What’s strange is I’m the one who broke up with her.
It happened in stages. First I moved out. I didn’t want to break up with her though. I just hated that town. I had to get out. Get to the city. Go do something… maybe that was the trouble… my dreams were coming back. My ambitions. All the things I wanted. And what about her? Could she come along? Would she? I needed to go experience more life. Perfection is the same as settling for less when you don’t know any better. There was a bustling world out there. I could hear my name being called every time the wind blew. It was getting louder.
I’d moved out, but was still living less than an hour away. But ever since I’d moved I’d barely texted her. Hardly spoken to her at all. She said I should come down and hang out with her. But something was shifting. I couldn’t do it. I choked up. I made up my mind. I couldn’t string her along. I couldn’t string myself along. I had to do the grown up thing. I had to move on.
Instead of hanging out that night. I broke up with her. My friend John, very christian, decided to pray for me. I don’t think he thought I was doing the right thing, maybe I wasn’t. I drove to her place, when I got there, my identity had changed. I was a different person altogether. I told her I thought it was time to move on. God only knows what words I actually said. I remember thinking “she’s taking this all too well.” Her phone was open to a blank Youtube page. I put on Bob Dylan’s Like a Rolling Stone and said “this is it. This is what it has to be. I have to start rolling like I always meant to.” She gave me a farewell kiss. Solemn.
She took it all too well. She didn’t think any of it was real. She messaged me a few days later asking if she was supposed to believe it ends just like that. I didn’t know what to say. I don’t remember if I did say anything. So much time passed and so fast. I couldn’t keep up with the days. I was just drifting, with no real sense of direction. Everything got cloudy, nothing was clear. After a year, maybe a little more, I messaged her… No response… Understood.
Life moved on, I was fine. A year or maybe two after that. I sent her another message. She responded. She was sweet, too sweet. We talked briefly, maybe even reluctantly, but we talked. I was glad to hear how she was doing. It made my heart sing. I always wanted the best for her. She seemed to feel the same about me. We continued to talk sporadically. One day, while traveling in my usually senseless fashion I found myself near her hometown. We agreed to meet. We got coffee.
She was sweet. Almost too sweet. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but the lion is also just trying to live. She had been hurt, of course she had. I’d been hurt too. She was still as beautiful as ever. But there’s a lot of beautiful people out there. It’s taken time, a lot of time, but I’ve moved on. And I like it this way.
She’s still special to me, even now. We don’t really talk, only really on each other’s birthdays to wish happy thoughts. Something tells me that even that will fade. And I’ll be left with these distorted memories, these images, brief flashes, of a different time, a different man.