The Date That Never Was

sad

Photo by Filip Mroz on Unsplash

I don’t remember the day we met. I don’t know who spoke first or why. It was probably something inconsequential, small talk maybe, or something about the class we were in. All I can say for certain is that one minute I didn’t know him and the next I did and there was no going back.

It happened fast, but we were too young to really understand. He made me smile, made me laugh, made my last class of the day the best class of the day. He became a fixture in my mind, in my day, so much that it was hard to remember life before him.

We didn’t talk about anything important, that is one thing I’m sure of. I didn’t even know he had siblings until much later. It feels silly to not have talked about that. But what did we talk about? I don’t know.

Throwing gummy bears at each other. That’s something I remember. And that there was a substitute that day, hence the chaos that allowed us to throw said gummy bears at each other. There was no rhyme or reason, just silliness and letting one or two of my inhibitions fall away. That’s always how it was with him. I could be silly. I could proclaim that we stand in certain spots in the hallway at the end of class, and he would play along. 

The Valentine’s dance. Of course that’s one of my clearest memories. Glances across the school gym, hesitance on both of our parts. This wasn’t part of the daily routine. Wasn’t something either of us knew how to handle. Then, right as he was headed in my direction to finally, finally ask me, a different boy claimed my hand. Go figure.

But not to worry, the courage once acquired seemed to stay, and he asked me on the next song. Eye contact was fleeting. Cheeks were flushed. And once again the conversation eludes me, maybe we were so far out of the norm that we didn’t speak at all. Except, I think I do remember talking about class, just a little.

It’s hard to say now if it was the dance that made all the difference. All I know is that the rest of everything is blank. Summer passed.

And then the fateful day, the first day of a new school for both of us. The day when we finally saw each other again. He was with his group of friends, and I was with mine. We exchanged a look across the room.

And that was it. No ‘hello’ or ‘how was your summer?’ No more than a handful of words could have passed between us that year.

Two years of small moments. That’s all I got. No picture together. No phone number. Just memories that fade too quickly and feelings that were never realized.

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Thanks for reading and being here at Claire’s Short Stories! Most of the time I aim to write silly or at least generally happy stories, but sometimes sadness demands some page time.

I was reading about memory the other day and about how easy it is to make things up and then turn those made up things into memories that feel real. It made me want to explore a story about memory. About the things you do remember, and the things you don’t.

See you next Thursday with another story!