the tan, tennis playing brunette with bright green eyes and a lightly freckled face i used to know. she was friends with someone i talked to a few times in junior high, and i first saw her in the beginning weeks of my freshman year of high school. i would hang around her clique of friends, some of whom would talk to me, and occasionally she would do the same. i distinctly remember her pronounced tan lines, no doubt due to all the time she spent in the sun during tennis practice (where her skin would most likely glisten in the midafternoon sun as sweat drops formed, from serve to serve), and her bra never seemed to fit just right.
she dated two people in that clique, that i remember, and i'm quite sure both of them thought i had some form of nonspecific mental illness or learning disability, which led them to keep a palpable distance from me that i imagine was even greater then the generic caution normally used with regular strangers.
i remember one lunchtime in 2011 when she was being chased by a friend, horsing around i recall, and the friend managed to undo all the buttons or straps holding the back of her shirt onto her firm, fit body, and it would have certainly fallen off entirely were it not due to her quick reflexes; well honed, i imagine, from her years playing tennis. i caught a glimpse of her relatively pale, lightly freckled back bisected by her bra just before she fixed her clothing.
she disappeared in the beginning of my sophomore year to go to florida, and she returned when we were seniors. i never interacted with her again, but i do remember passing by her in the hallways once, my gaze meeting hers by complete accident. her eyes, outlined by thick dark eyelashes, drilling into mine,
did she recognize me?
probably not. but what did it matter? she and i may as well have been from different planets.
later that year i found myself running into her friend, M, just after school as she was going to her car. we struck up a brief conversation and as it was happening, i was surprising myself at how much my social skills had improved since those freshman years, which seemed so long ago, when she and her friends would laugh at my antics and tolerate me, even welcome me into their home in one case, but nonetheless keep their distance as though they feared i would suddenly snap and attack them.
and then i found myself talking to her as though we were....on the same level?
could it be? someone, who understands me...who accepts me and realizes that i am more than a freak good for a laugh and little more.
i have never seen the brunette since, and i don't know if it matters anymore.
_________________
הייתי צוללת עכשיו למים
הכי, הכי עמוקים
לא לשמוע כלום
לא לדעת כלום
וזה הכל אהובי, זה הכל.