Freckled

03-01-26 Sunday 4:20 PM

If I had known she cared half as much as I did for her, I never would have kissed her sister, which, in the end, was one of the greatest things I have ever done in my life. No regrets there.

I asked her if I could kiss her after a night of bowling. We were on her carpet, and I don’t remember what we talked about and never will; all I know is she said, “Yes,” and I was in her bed for the next three years. It looked like something the big-bad wolf pretended to be the Grandma in, and the longer I was with her, the longer I, too, felt like I was wearing something I ate. She was very good to me. Extremely kind and generous. I learned not to like her sister while dating her. I didn’t know who she was until I was around, for they were roommates, yet, to this day, it is her sister I dream of.

I’m glad we broke up. Her heart broke first, then mine, for heartache always comes at different times after a relationship, or you’d still be together, but she is married now, to whom I assume is the love of her life. I’ve only seen it from afar. I think of her often, usually when I’m in a museum, because the beauty that hangs on the walls was the beauty she held in her blue eyes, and her kindness, but it was her kindness that did her in for me. She was passive. I had her. What I didn’t have was this period of time, this radiant light that made me feel a certain way I can only describe as presence in the face of beauty. Someone who was my friend but whom I secretly wish was more than a friend. We’ve never kissed. We’ve never held hands. One night, while she was dating someone else, we lay on a couch, and she asked me to hold her. I did, and regret sleeping.

She’s had many boyfriends, flings, and one-nighters, way more than I have had, but that is because when you are around her, and if you're a man who is attracted to women, she is the kind of person that brings you to the dance floor and for ten minutes you want to win the lottery just so you can hand her a check and say, “Kiss me,” but she can’t be bought with money. No one wants anyone like that, and no one wants to be someone who would pay to get another’s attention, but in a way, the mind conjures romantic notions of tarmacs, late-night rendezvous, and passports. She does not feel this way about me. This is a fact. I eat eggs, and remember she was in my dream again, twice a week. I find it peculiar. While dating her sister, I saw another side that I did not find particularly attractive, and I was head over heels in love with her. It’s a weird thing to think and talk about. You end up falling in love with the other one, and then the one you never dated pops up in your dreams, usually riding a bike along Lake Michigan, or…I don’t usually remember after a few minutes, washing yolk off white ceramic, watching rabbits jump around my backyard.

My friend dated her and said she was speechless when she found out I was dating her sister. I don’t know what that means, but she cheated on a guy to be with him. A lot of girls do. Most of her friends have.

All of this is public domain in the circles I travelled in. The only thing that irks me is that my relationship with either of them was not genuine. In fact, it was way more genuine with the girl I dated. I loved her. Don’t think I’ve ever met a sweeter person, more talented person, or gorgeous gal in my life, but only one of them I see across the street holding a bike for me to ride. It’s summer, and we were young. I think I may be either addicted to or romanticizing the way she laughed, or the fact that she always seemed up for a good time, but to tell you the truth, what she had that others didn’t was an emotional connection I sensed in her. There was a depression, a sadness behind her smile. You saw her go up, but I could tell she came down, and when that happened, she was alone in her room. That’s when I wanted to be there. That’s why I’d give her a check. I guess I wanted to say it’ll be alright. Then I’d put my hat on and leave.

I was truly happy around her, and my selfishness seems to grow creatively. The sun is shining on her, and I often imagine meeting her somewhere in the desert, in some dilapidated old building as dilapidated and old as I am at this point. I’d ask her if she’d like a cup of coffee, and she’d say no. It’s a lot like telling her she’ll be alright in her room, except we’re older. I don’t see myself leaving, but everything fades to black. I drove there in a truck, and I left in one too, eventually. Why is the hat on my head so important to me? There is no music in this land. Very odd. She is music, and I’m leaving her with none, but then again, I don’t know everything. I don’t even know half the things about myself. I’d look in the rear-view mirror. I can see it, which is insane, because I’d turn back right now. I’d turn back in a heartbeat. In every age, she’s going to be ok, but what happens to those sad eyes I’m attracted to? I guess they’d be the ones that are always actually there. She’s a happy gal, and I’m buying a lottery ticket.

People assume you want to have sex with the girl in your dreams. I’ve always just wanted to make sure she was ok. I guess that’s a good friend, something I once accepted.

She looked, and that was that.