The blinds were closed when I entered my bedroom and although I had been greeted by this sight for a greater part of my life, something seemed different about it. It could have been the sound of my shoes expelling water into the carpet as I crept closer to the window or the suffocating feel of my wet shirt and pants as they clung to my body; it could’ve been, but it wasn’t.
The light behind the wooden blinds seemed brighter today. I could feel the pressure as the sun’s rays pushed against the shades, not satisfied with the few beams that had made it through. I grabbed the string on the side of the window and tugged hard at it. The tired groan that emitted from this action reminded me that I had not revealed my bedroom to the world, or perhaps the world to my bedroom, in years.
She had told me her name. And unlike every night spent looking at the militaristic print of Frontier High’s yearbook as it spelled out her elegant moniker, it looked none sweeter than when she had spoken it to me just an hour ago.
“Maria Johnston,” she whispered as she nonchalantly plucked at the stiff grass we sat on. Water trailed down her face, tracing every beautiful feature she owned, every delicate attribute I desired to touch. I had stupidly waited for her to denounce all connection to modern names, claiming that she was meant to be Star Fire instead of Maria Johnston. I waited for the longest time for her to live up to the rumors that were scattered throughout the school’s hallways. Rumors of illegal substances, arms chained to towering trees and violent protests against yet another retail store. I had waited for her to be what I knew she wasn’t.
The walls of my bedroom were blue. Along with the comforter, sheets, pillowcases, mirror frame, and tooth brush. I had surrounded myself in the dullest color on earth. Not the exciting and crystalline azure of the pacific. Not the deep and mysterious indigo of the velvet night sky. No, I had surrounded myself in the color that mirrored my temperament; cool, gray, and lifeless. My room was not a sanctuary but more a constant reminder that I was monotonous.
Bonny’s room was green, a tasteless green that I saw on frequent occasions. If she had invited me into her room it was because she needed to be reminded that she was beautiful. I didn’t try to sooth her want with clichéd whispers of devotion and love. I muffled her cry for recognition with my lips and the rest of my body. I saw her room only in shadows. Parts of somethings, nothing whole. We both belonged with the incomplete shadows. In Bonny’s bile colored room we twisted the romantic act of sensual completion and made it into sexual desire for temporary validation. We were monsters, together in ruins.
“I won’t force you to tell me your own. I’ll just let you know I’m curious” Maria stated looking at the varying lengths of her nails. Her curiosity was well hidden, invisible beneath her uninterested demeanor. The red and orange floral fabric of her dress rested heavily on her legs, weighted by the waters of Manchester Lake. In the hours since we had jumped into Manchester’s foggy depths Maria had threaded different types of flowers into her hair. Yellow petals formed a crown atop her head as eerily dark violet blooms randomly graced her locks. I wanted deeply to know whether or not Maria knew how effortlessly radiant she was.
“Where are you, Weasel?” Bonny had demanded in the message she left on my phone. The anger that crept into her voice as she spat out my elementary school nickname held the intensity of a wilted lily.
Bonny never spoke straight forward. She never told me that she hated the shirt I was wearing but rather that she liked the one I wore the day before. The questioning of my whereabouts this afternoon when I was supposed to be getting floats with her and the boys at Don’s Float Shop could have easily been intended as a ‘who’ question. And because there were so many options to what Bonny really meant, I didn’t call her back. I left it to her overactive imagination to determine my previous location.
“What is it you’re curious about?” I asked Maria, trying to emulate her indifferent disposition. I plucked at the grass as well, finding it hard to pull at the same blades that Maria so fluently removed from the solid clay earth.
Maria stopped pulling at the grass and stared at her feet that shot out in front of her. I tryingly continued to remove different blades of yellow grass as she began to wiggle her toes. A wistful smile slowly formed on her face as the wind, that had been absent for nearly two hours, began to blow.
Maria threw her head back and closed her eyes, hiding priceless jade jewels from me, from the world, once again. I watched as she hungrily gulped down the air that surrounded her, the smile never leaving her lips. Gold and mauve petals left her hair and began to dance in the wind. The once heavy fabric of her dress was carelessly being lifted from her legs. She was a dream.
“What I’m curious about is ever changing. I am merely curious.” She opened her eyes and looked at me. Her smile was now light and weightless, as if it could float away. “I’m curious about everything,” she said, “and nothing. I want to be found.” She whispered the last part, willing me to hear it, but content if I did not.
Her simple words had left me speechless. I was confused as to what I should say. Where did those last five words leave us in this conversation? Was she finally telling me why she, why I, was here? Why was I here?
Her gaze trailed away from my own down to the grass that she began to idly pick at once again. Her fingers’ movements were elegant compared to my boorish ones. I watched as her slender and graceful fingers groped and caressed the undeserving blades of grass. I was envious of the grass, violently wanting to be the one her fingers were so attentive to.
“Jeremy Tanner” I whispered, entranced by her actions. Maria smiled and stood up. It was the smile she gave me as she jumped into the waters of Manchester Lake, the oxymoron.
I watched as she turned around and began to walk away, her footsteps buoyant and careful, dress fluttering behind her. I watched as she raised her right hand and flicked her wrist in a wave.
I could not help but watch as Maria Johnston left me in a field of stiff grass, curiosities, and paradoxical smiles.
“See you, Jeremy Tanner.”
