Amphibious

Two bulbous eyes peeked up from the surface of the pond. The way they blinked at me was alien and bizarre, but it was nice to be seen. I hadn't liked frogs since the day Charlie put one down the back of my shirt in the sixth grade, the cumulation of an awkward juvenile crush and budding male insecurity. The dress I'm wearing matches Charlie's tie, though the hem is covered in six inches of mud. I should be dancing with Charlie right now. Prom is a teenage rite of passage, after all. Instead, I'm crouching on the banks of the pond behind the gym, bonding with a slimy green amphibian.

It must be nice, being a frog.

Not that I'd like to live in the mud, though the way it's squishing through my toes, cool and soft and slightly gritty, isn't so bad. I look over my shoulder and wonder where my shoes are. Probably lying somewhere along the dirt path that led from the back door of the gymnasium to the pond. The chunky, plastic heels were not ideal for running. I didn't want to run away. I didn't want to hurt Charlie's feelings. But I know I did. The look of horror on his face was pretty obvious.

My friend the frog is wallowing in the shallows, stirring up clouds of mud.

What exactly are a frog's expectations for living a decent life? A few flies? A good mating once in a while? A soft pile of mud to sleep in?

I wish I were a frog. I bet I'd be a good one.

I wonder what Charlie would say if he realized his girlfriend was a frog? A froggy princess in a fluffy, muddy prom dress that matched his tie. He probably wouldn't notice if I had warts, and I'm not sure if that makes me happy or sad. If he reached out and took my squishy, knobby hand, would he turn away or just tug me along after him? He'd probably just shrug and accept it. I guess that's just the way things are with high school sweethearts.

There are only two viable paths when you have a long-term relationship in high school. One is to get married young, have a boat load of babies and join an MLM. The other is to move away, get a bright, shiny new life, but sometimes get drunk alone and ugly cry about what might have been.

Maybe I am a frog.

Frogs live in two planes at once, and both make them happy. A frog who is happy on land will flop in the water once in a while. I've told myself that I'm happy with Charlie. We've been together for longer than I've had boobs, so that counts for something. But I want to live on two different planes, just like a frog.

With Charlie, I'm a frog on land. Solid, secure. Everything is level and makes sense. I love that about him. He never makes me worry. Other guys might cheat, play games, break hearts, but never my Charlie. He's stable, reliable... predictable.

Without Charlie, things are fluid, less rigid. I like the uncertainty of the water, the thick mud that covers my skin. I like when I can't touch bottom and I float like a cork on the surface. I want to swim in the pond with all the little fishes. I want to find my bright shiny new life, be something more than just Charlie's girl, and that makes me feel like the slimy creature I am.

"Brit..." The voice behind me makes my stomach lurch, but I don't move.

"I don't want to talk to you." I sound like a child, and I'm ok with that. My friend frog is still watching, and I feel the weight of his judgment.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you."

I stay crouched on the muddy bank, ignoring the demise of the expensive dress that I am bathing in wet earth. "You asked me to marry you at my senior prom." I shot him a tight look over my shoulder. "That is the definition of embarrassing. What were you thinking?"

"I just..." I could hear his angst and chose to ignore it. "I couldn't stand the thought of you going away to school without me. College guys are... different than me. Smarter. Cooler. I was afraid if you went away without me, I'd lose you."

The crinoline in my dress crinkled as I rose, my toes digging in the mud. "Then come with me. Your grades are good enough."

Charlie stood ankle deep in the mud, not looking at his shoes, and I loved him a little more for it. "I can't, Brit, and you know that. Dad's still on dialysis and someone has to run the shop..."

My slimy green heart ached for Charlie. Maybe his rigidity was his means to keep himself from falling apart, when so much depended on him. Maybe he wanted to swim, too, and could only dream of leaving the shore. Maybe he wanted to be a frog like me.

"Just because I'm going away to school, doesn't mean it's over," I tell him. "We still love each other, right?"

I could see in his eyes the quiet resignation. He had dipped his feet in the mud but could only watch his froggy princess swim away in a muddy, fluffy dress.

"Ya, I know." He took my hand, our dirty fingers slipping together. "I just never thought you'd really leave without me."

We followed the path that wound around the pond, smooth and well-trodden. I wanted two worlds, two paths. I wanted my turbid pond and my solid shore.

But I am an amphibian- flexible, lithe and strong. If I want to swim, I would swim. If I want dry land, I will still be Charlie's girl. To love the water didn't mean I hated the shore.

Wanting both the water and the shore is a very human-like ambition for a frog.

"Charlie," I said, wrapping my arms around his middle, leaving muddy handprints on the back of his tuxedo. "I won't be gone forever. I'll come back. But... before I go... I should probably teach you to swim."

Cinching my arms tightly around his waist, I pitched us backwards into the pond, and we fell together with a dirty splash, laughing and squealing, two little frogs playing in the shallows.