Summer 0013

Sunday, January 21, 2018

It was right in that moment I realized I was only in love with the idea of you. 

I was sitting at the ocean with my eyes closed and like a movie the past couple of weeks flashed before my eyes. That voice, I can still hear it in my ears it's almost as if he is standing right next to me. He had this powerful voice filled with confidence which made me look up to him in a way I had never looked up to anyone before. He had this voice that would make you silent and only want to listen to him. I could never speak like that. I still remember the fist time I saw him. He had blonde curly hair that fell in front of his eyes and he didn't even bother to move it aside. He was skateboarding whilst holding a sigaret in one hand and keeping balance with the other. He wore this oversized pink t-shirt and green swimming trunks with yellow flowers on it. The colors totally clashed and I liked it for some reason that I can't really explain. When he busted me looking at him he showed me this subtle smile, almost saying he didn't care but cared just enough to let me see he noticed I was on the same square. After that I didn't see him for 3 whole days, I had almost forgotten about him. 

My friends went out to dance at the nearest disco. I sat under the only small light I could find with my feed hanging in the pool, reading The catcher in the rye for the 12th time. When out of nowhere someone came sitting right next to me. He didn't say anything. He just sat there for what felt like hours. When suddenly "People say Holden is Salinger, but I don't buy that. If Salinger seems to weight the point of view of any character in the book it’s not Holden, it’s Phoebe." His confidence in his statement stratled me. He didn't say it to start a discussion, he told me. I stayed silent for a minute before I decided to respond. "I agree." I didn't say this because I felt intimidated by him, I genuinely supported his point of view. "Phoebe doesn't buy his bullshit. She doesn't join his pitte party. She’s truly a wise child who sees he’s suffering but has little patience with his self-righteous fecklessness and lack of concern for how it will affect those who love him." He smiled. The same smile I had seen the first time there on that square. We continued not to speak after that. The silence felt nice.

I was enthralled by him. Fascinated by him. We spent the next weeks swimming, dancing and laughing together. But the truth is I never got to know him. Like really know him. He spoke with these big words but when I asked him about his life and family he kept silent, started talking about something else. The stupid thing is, I liked him, so I let him be silent. I was young and naïve. At night we would go to the fair, eat candy floss and sit in the Ferris wheel like two typical phony 16 year olds do when they live their first summer love. I felt like I was living in a movie. I started thinking about how we were both leaving in 4 days, it made me sick to my stomach. He had managed to make me fall in love with him just in those few weeks. I had never been in love before, but I was pretty sure that this is it what it was supposed to feel like. He was the cool kid and I was not, and for some reason I had fooled him into loving me too. 

But I only saw the good side of him before it all fell apart. "Yesterday you told me you didn't know her name. But now you got her staying over later on? You sure know how to kill me inside." He stayed silent until he made up his mind and moved closer, looked me in the eyes and whispered "Dance with me. Dance with me." His voice wasn't the powerful confident voice I was used to. It was soft and quite. Almost desperate. Was he really this big of a fool? The real stupid thing is I trusted him and l allowed him to see me in my most vulnerable moments. I had told him everything. He hadn't been the fool, I had. 

I told him I cound't stand being near him. I paused for a second "If you really liked me, if this really meant something to you, than how could you have been doing this all this time?" I asked. He didn't say anything.  He probably knew nothing he said would be right. We both stood up, gave each other one last look and went our separate ways. I never turned around to look again, not even to see if he did, I just kept walking.

On the train home I cried my eyes out. He didn't deserve that. He wasn't that kind of boy who is worth crying over. And as soon I stepped on that platform I stopped crying and never shed a tear over him ever again. Sometimes I can still see him, just like on these hot summer days. Tears streaming over his face from laughter with blonde curls falling over his face. But he will never be the same. I opened my eyes looked at the ocean one last time, and decided right in that moment that this would be the last time I would ever think about him again. And I never did after that.


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