State College

I don’t remember the exact words you used, but I do remember sitting on my parents’ couch, pressing the cordless phone to my ear, silently begging you not to continue.

It wasn’t the first time you’d broken my heart, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Though the next opportunity wouldn’t come for another three years.

We’d found each other again through MySpace. Exchanged quick messages or whatever we did on that platform in the early aughts. Flirted through our keyboards, danced around our feelings, same as we had in high school.

Me and a few friends were heading to State College for a visit—a concert, some drinking, time to blow off steam. I casually dropped the info through that first and only channel of social media. I left the proverbial ball in your digital court.

And of course, I pretended to be surprised when you said we should meet up.

I primped as best I could in my guy friend’s scuzzy apartment. No razor in the tub, no outlet by the sink to plug in my straightener. The mirror pockmarked with toothpaste splatter and god only knows what else.

I stepped through a cloud of Cucumber Melon body spray as I exited the gross bathroom and wondered if your scent was the same as it had been the last time we’d met. Aqua something or other from that preppy store at the mall.

I don’t know what I expected to happen at that corner sandwich shop on campus. You asked for a hug almost immediately; that was a good sign.

But there was more dancing as we remained in our fiberglass seats. More words left unsaid as we munched turkey and Italian bread.

It certainly wasn’t what I dreamed about – that you’d kiss me again and take me back to your dorm. That we’d finally get the chance to do what we never had the opportunity to do in high school. That we’d swear to stay in touch, wait this out, make this work. Pledge that there was never anyone else, before; that there’d never be anyone else after.

Instead, there were blinked back tears, silent understandings. Memories accompanied by giggles, blushes, innuendos. Unsaid words lingering with the sandwich wrappings alongside the discarded crinkles of iceberg lettuce.

I don’t remember if we hugged goodbye. We certainly never said it. That, at least, hadn’t changed. You just walked away. I walked away.

I carried on with my friends for the rest of the evening. They suggested going to a club and I numbly agreed.

In lieu of party clothes, I donned a men’s dress shirt, loaned to me by my friend. Tied it in a knot, exposing the paleness of my flat belly, a patch of skin you’d never seen. Would never see.

Draped a necktie around my neck for a bit of added sex appeal. Because if I couldn’t explore my sexuality with you, I might as well do it with some stranger.

Stomped to a darkened club without a coat, the icy February air cutting against my flesh. Not nearly as sharp as the knife prodding my heart.

Let the blaring music and thumping base carry me across the dance floor, taking full advantage of the fact that no one here knew me. Feeling bereft, wild. Wanting to lose control for the first time in my life. Throwing back the plastic test tubes of alcohol like they were Kool-Aid. Finally understanding why people drank to numb the pain.

Because my god. You again. This again.

Us. Never again.

Back at the apartment, I stared wide-eyed at the TV while my friends played Guitar Hero into the wee hours of the morning. Stoically watching the notes blaze across the screen, trying not to think about the fact that I’d rather be doing anything else at the moment, as long as I was with you. Knowing that we’d had our chances. Knowing that we both let them go.

Dragging myself to my friend’s bedroom to make a nest of blankets on the floor, Free Bird thumping through the thin apartment walls.

And this bird you cannot change.

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