David
He was sitting on one of the newspaper boxes with his hoodie over his head, cigarette in hand. I didn't recognize him on cursory inspection. As I got closer his stare became more intense and I felt like a gazelle on the steppe, lion ever in the corner of my eye. I only made direct eye contact when he pulled the hoodie down and rumbled a low, "well look who it is..." His face was more weather beaten than the last time I'd seen it, but once that hoodie was off there was no mistaking him.
I remembered him as the underdog in school, the kid who was always too big for his britches, the kid who always had something to prove. I think he had crushes on both Anne and me at varying points in our childhoods and his advances always seemed to rise out of some a priori sense of rejection. Horribly lonely stuff. I had only stopped at Missler's on my way to work to get a bag of salad for lunch, and I had less of a desire to talk to him than I did back in school. I tried to put on an air of hurriedness.
"You look all business like." He had his knees bent close to his chest and took a slow drag on his cigarette. His eyes were piercing and I got an overwhelming sense that something awful had happened in the ten years since high school. I asked him what he'd been up to since we had last seen each other. "Done some smart stuff, done some stupid stuff. I'm on break right now," and a nod toward the door made it clear that he was working at the grocery. "I have a three year old daughter, too bad I had her with the wrong girl." He looked angry and his eyes were taking in too much of me, it was awkward and terrifying. I heard from someone that he'd received a dishonorable discharge from the Army for disorderly conduct. I hate the path that takes us to stained tshirts and an early shift at Missler's at age 27, I hate that it's a series of so many small and stupid choices. That we do it to ourselves and that it's totally avoidable, but that for most it's far too late to begin again once that realization is made.
"I'm going to school to learn how make video games. Only problem is, I'll have to go to the West Coast. I figure that once I get a job making video games, I'll buy a house here in Oberlin and out there!" The mischevious spark that I remembered from childhood returned to his eyes for a moment and it made me feel so infinitely sad for him. There is too far to go, too far. Somebody told you that you could be anything, that you could always begin again. You got too old, though, nobody mentioned that could happen and so what can you do? Life can't really be so cutting, can it?
Emily:
stop seeing yourself on top of that newspaper stand, peeping out from behind a cage. There are no answers in the way you want there to be, just remember one thing. Vperyod.
I remembered him as the underdog in school, the kid who was always too big for his britches, the kid who always had something to prove. I think he had crushes on both Anne and me at varying points in our childhoods and his advances always seemed to rise out of some a priori sense of rejection. Horribly lonely stuff. I had only stopped at Missler's on my way to work to get a bag of salad for lunch, and I had less of a desire to talk to him than I did back in school. I tried to put on an air of hurriedness.
"You look all business like." He had his knees bent close to his chest and took a slow drag on his cigarette. His eyes were piercing and I got an overwhelming sense that something awful had happened in the ten years since high school. I asked him what he'd been up to since we had last seen each other. "Done some smart stuff, done some stupid stuff. I'm on break right now," and a nod toward the door made it clear that he was working at the grocery. "I have a three year old daughter, too bad I had her with the wrong girl." He looked angry and his eyes were taking in too much of me, it was awkward and terrifying. I heard from someone that he'd received a dishonorable discharge from the Army for disorderly conduct. I hate the path that takes us to stained tshirts and an early shift at Missler's at age 27, I hate that it's a series of so many small and stupid choices. That we do it to ourselves and that it's totally avoidable, but that for most it's far too late to begin again once that realization is made.
"I'm going to school to learn how make video games. Only problem is, I'll have to go to the West Coast. I figure that once I get a job making video games, I'll buy a house here in Oberlin and out there!" The mischevious spark that I remembered from childhood returned to his eyes for a moment and it made me feel so infinitely sad for him. There is too far to go, too far. Somebody told you that you could be anything, that you could always begin again. You got too old, though, nobody mentioned that could happen and so what can you do? Life can't really be so cutting, can it?
Emily:
stop seeing yourself on top of that newspaper stand, peeping out from behind a cage. There are no answers in the way you want there to be, just remember one thing. Vperyod.
