Friday, July 29, 2011

Crazy: Part One.

Hi. Finally back from an amazing vacation, that ran a little longer than a week, sorry. I'm sure you care.
This is my attempt at a love story part one. I'm not exactly clear on the whole part two. I've got a vague idea in what direction to take it in but I'd love to hear if you hve any thoughts. I'd also love to hear your impression of the whole thing. Did you hate it? Did you love it? Did  you not get it?
Oh and also, do you like my new theme? I think I do.
Thank you. (:



“If you’re not ashamed of everything you said at thirteen then you aren’t growing as a person! If this doesn’t mortify me at twenty-five then I have no idea who I am!” she screams it from the pier, all crazy-haired and standing on the ledge and all, perilously close to falling but he knows she won’t/
                Her friend’s sunning herself at her feet, jiggling her cyan painted toes as if she’s listening to music with a strong downbeat; but she isn’t.
                “Hey Carl,” Jeffery leans his head in the little aura of thought bubble and sunblock fumes.
                “Yeah?”
                “Let’s go talk to the crazy bond on the pier,” something in his smile and his floppy dark hair spells hilarious adventure in all caps.
                “Yeah.”
                Their advance is confidently unsure and Carl’s nervous energy is like a dance.
                Up from the beach is a long trek of scorched foot pads and wet bathing suit hems on wet knees. All the while the pillar of tall blond crazy gets nearer and nearer. As they get close enough to touh one another, she jumps down, the blond one that shouted. The other one, whose got really dark, almost black hair just sort of props herself up on her elbows and looks sour.
                It’s a little like two fronts approaching one another; warm and cold, male and female.
                It’s silent for a whole fifty milliseconds before Jeffery tries to be suave and offers his hand to the girls.
                “Hello ladies, I’m Jeff.”
                The blond smiles. She’s weird looking. Her face is definitely not ‘one of those faces’ and she’s been staring at Carl the entire time, the whole fifty milliseconds.
                Her bright eyes break away from the contact as she shakes ‘Jeff’s’ hand.
                “I’m Lexa,” she says so subtly confident it’s shocking.
                The wind circles around all of them, tugging all of their loose ends in the same direction.
                “That’s Kay,” she jerks a thumb back to her prostrated companion. Kay splits her fingers into a lackluster peace sign before lying back once more.
                “She’s been in a bad mood since pre K.”
                “I’m marinating,” says Kay through closed eyes and all that sun pressing down on her.
                Lexa cocks her head and never loses the smile, “She’s marinating.”
                Carl watches Jeffery not know what to do with his hands.
                “Nice to meet you.”
                “Likewise.” Her voice is syrupy because she’s humoring him.
                “And you are?” she asks, turning to Carl, all tall and blond and weird looking. She’s so tangibly confident you could sip it in teacups. It’s like it rubs off on Carl, that confidence. He’s suddenly more comfortable than he’d ever been in his life.
                “I’m Carl J. Sedgewig,” he says, returning her smile.
                After he says this, Lexa’s smile grows bigger than ever. With the ocean to her back, she leans in and kisses his cheek. Only seven words exchanged and there’s a sticky, Lexa-shaped O on Carl’s face that he’ll go on feeling forever.
                “So are we on for dinner tonight, Carl J. Sedgewig?” asks Lexa.
                Kay rolls her eyes and drags a nail over the edge of the pier rail’s sunsoaked wood.
                “Absolutely.”
                “Supuestos. Seven.”
                He saw the tide coming in through the open spaces in the wood planks. The foamy, overachieving waves reaching farther and farther up the beach each time.
                “Make it six thirty.”
                “Your eagerness is like a compass.” The wind blew a slew of ripples across her loose-fitting tank top. “Oh and wear a red tie. Please? For me?”
                “Only for you.”
                Carl could feel Jeffery’s dire confusion all along the left side of his body.

                She’s like a goddess. Carl’s thinking as he knocks over the bottle of cologne and snatches it up just in time with a shaking hand. A bona fide goddess with the most interesting face I’ve ever seen.
                His white button down open and billowing, he makes his way into his father’s closet and scans for a tie of a red hue.
                She’s so real. So different.
                He feels this wave of relief after spotting the money tie shoved behind the rack of holiday themed ties.
                He’s got it around his neck when he sees a woman’s figure in the corner of his eye.
                “What are you doing?” she asks.
                “Hey Mom, I was just, uh, looking for this tie,” he says, looping it around his neck.
                She smiles, her forty-something skin wrinkling around her eyes.
                “And why do you need your father’s tie exactly? You know I gave him that particular one about ten years ago.”
                “I won’t ruin it if that’s what you’re insinuating,” he says, trying to button the shirt, but halfway through finds out that the buttons go through different holes.
                He sighs, “I have a date tonight.”
                “Really?”
                “Don’t sound so surprised.”
                “I’m not surprised,” she says stepping into the closet and smoothing down his hair. “Any girl would be lucky to date you.”
                His elbows felt too rough under the perfect linen.
                She’s tan and she’s smart. I know this will work.
                “Thanks Mom,” he says smiling and walking past her back towards his door.
                “Hey now,” she says following him, “You’re not getting away that quickly, I want to know who this girl is.” She’s standing in the hallway outside his room, the pale light coming in from the window makes her truly look her age.
                “No one you’d know.”
                “I can help you with your tie,” she says demurely while he fumbles with shaking hands and struggles with hazy memories of a friend’s bar mitzvah and a cousin’s wedding.
                Sighing, he relinquishes the red silk and she comes forward, feeling like she used to help him dress at three.
                “Her name’s Lexa. I met her on the pier today and we’re going to Supuestos tonight for dinner,”
                Her gray eyes are smiling as she loops the tie into the fold.
                “Does this Lexa have a last name?”
                “Ah… I’m sure she does.” He smiles.
                “Well,” she says, adjusting the fit and smoothing his collar, “Be sure to find that out tonight, hold the door open for her, be polite, and be home by eleven.”
                “I will, I will. Thanks Mom.”

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