Archive for November 2004

Complicated Compassion

Walking off, I couldn’t help but feel a bounce in my step and a slight smile cross my face with the obvious tension floating in the air. The improbable situation that we found ourselves in, gave me a sense of satisfaction that I didn’t know was possible. I didn’t want to act or feel like a jerk, but I’d been feeling like a sack of shit for months, shunning all of the friends we had in common. This would be both uncomfortable and interesting, indeed.

“Hey, wait!” she called out. I turned around to face her and when our eyes met, she quietly asked,”You’re not still mad at me are you?”

Tilting my head to one side, I tried to puzzle out why she would care so much about how I felt. Why did she care? Sure, she was my friend and I suppose she would care about my well-being, but she was with the “right” guy now. That’s what she wanted, right? I wasn’t the guy she liked, it was Andrew.

“What makes you think I was ever mad at you?” I questioned.

“Oh, I just thought that after what had happened and with you not talking to me, you were still mad at me.”

“No, I was never mad at you. Sad, maybe, but never mad,” I told her as I walked backward toward the outer gates. “I’ve got to get going, but we’ll talk later. We still have practice you know.”

As I trotted off through the gates, I heard her whisper to no one in particular,”but I still miss my friend.”

Heading toward the pool, I thought about what just happened and the words I heard that were meant for no one. I had gotten over some of the sting of her refusal at my honest confession, but it still hurt, regardless of the time that had passed. My mind tried to seal up those wounds and push them aside, but whenever I thought about the event, there was bitterness that invaded my chest cavity. The same questions kept repeating themselves, ravaging my spirit. But when I asked those questions, I always came up with the same answers that was the salve for my soul.

Although it would get easier with time, rejection was still very new to me. This was the very first time where my honesty had netted me a backhand from Life. Simply put, it sucked. I had missed her too. Our friendship before my big mouth was what I missed most. We were buddies, pals and though the chance that I had taken failed, I couldn’t help but remember that we were still friends first.

Approaching a copse of trees, I wandered inside and looked up to see sunlight filtering through the branches at the very top. I had often climbed these trees, searching for something; adventure, fun and ultimately a sanctuary. Here I found some peace in the shadows and silence, blocked by the leaves that surrounded me.

“Why me? Why couldn’t it be easy? Why did you make this so hard?” I shouted into the forest of green leaves, heralding the coming of summer. When no answers came, I resolved to seek my own answers and find my own way. I wasn’t her boyfriend, but I could still be her friend.

Leaving that solitude behind, I realized that this duet might be more than just a simple song.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

A Reclusive Song

The pain of rejection hovered around me like a cloud of frosted glass; obscuring my view from the world that continued to spin, unbeknownst to me. The days and weeks that followed overlapped each other, merging and melding into a continuous nearsighted blur. There was nothing to discern the difference between one day and the next. Even thick, coke-bottled glasses were of no use here.

Time found me huddled deep in the shadows of an unspoken alcove, wanting to disappear from the questioning gazes and sympathetic murmurs of friends and acquaintances alike. After all, everyone had heard about what had happened, but no one had been given specific details. People wondered what had transpired, but I wasn’t up for any interviews, less an open forum to hash out the events of that afternoon. It was still too raw for me; nursing that constant sore that refused to scab over.

To alleviate the social pressures, I buried myself in my school work and activities. Tackling each day with fervor, I was able to forget, at least for the time being, the ache which filled the space where a buoyant heart once was. Those shattered remains of my core still existed; I hadn’t lost it completely. Instead of sitting where it belonged, I carried it around in a dull, grey leather satchel, cinched tight. Maybe one day some power would come along and piece it back together.

School days came and went. Avoiding the darkness festering inside of me was tough, but between choir practice, competitions, swim practice and meets, they all came as a blessing in disguise. They gave me purpose and focus, for that I was glad for.

Toward the end of that year, preparations for the year end ceremony were underway. I was always very involved in choir and some might say that I had a talent to match my interest. Encouraged to audition for a solo, I found my way in front of the music teacher, pouring my heart and soul into a song, harnessed by the emotional turmoil that had struck its first blow against my teenage soul.

The results of the audition were quite favorable, and I ended up getting the sought after part. Although I had beat everyone else out for that solo, our teacher felt that a duet would be appropriate and wanted a soprano to balance out my tenor/baritone. Another audition was held, only this time, it was for girls only.

After two days of auditions, the results were posted on her classroom door. The final bell of the day rang, and a mass of bodies hurried to see which girl would get that coveted slot. Looking at the sheet taped to the door, I paused as reality slapped me in the face. I was slated to perform the duet, with Jess.

The ache returned. Why did this happen? After all this time, I had thought myself clever enough to avoid the issue, waiting for time to wrap itself around my wound and close it. But now I had to face it head on. Was some unseen force amused with the situation I now found myself in? Did they have any idea what I had gone through for these last few months? The questions thundered inside my head, as the voices of my classmates drowned out the beginnings of my apparent pseudo-psychosis.

Stunned and subdued, I turned around to leave the throng of kids milling about and spotted her as she approached. I suppose she hadn’t heard the news yet. Mustering up my courage, I managed a cordial greeting.

“Hey, Jess. How’ve you been?”

“Hey there… I’ve been ok. How’re you…doing?” she asked, careful concern edging her voice. “I haven’t talked to you in a while. I didn’t know if you’d ever talk to me again.”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is…” I trailed off. “I’ve been busy and so have you.”

She didn’t say anything, but I knew. The story read like a novelette in her eyes. They had been going out for a few weeks now and she knew that I knew. She wrung her hands with anxiety and lowered her eyes. In the distance, I saw him watching our uncomfortable interaction. He avoided me, as I avoided him, not wanting to cause a stir or a fight. At least he respected my wishes, as many others did that year when it came to that subject.

“It’s ok. You’re happy, right? That’s all that matters,” I managed to say as I smiled slightly. “I’ve got to get going now. Swim practice…”

As I turned to walk away, I said over my shoulder,”You got the part, Jess. I guess this time, it’s just me and you…”

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.