by Sarah Buhl
In that alley, though she wasn’t being forced, she was absent from the situation. I saw it in her eyes. It was as if her heart and mind didn’t exist in her empty shell. But when our eyes met she changed. She looked at me and a link formed. There was an understanding of a past desperate to forget, but unable to move forward.
I sighed, running my hands through my hair. When did I become the lame ass who couldn't shut his mind to thoughts of a girl? It was ridiculous. I couldn’t stop the analyzing because I needed to know the why of her.
I leaned onto my knees and flipped through the dog-eared pages of Fahrenheit 451, and sighed at my vain attempt to rid myself of these thoughts. I was scheduled for an appointment with Stinson today and wondered if the thoughts might slow after I met with him. I checked my watch. There were still a few hours until the appointment. We met twice a week and today he wanted to hear how my first day of classes went.
Since it was the weekend, it was just Stinson in the office. He let me right in and I sat in my usual chair and gave him my usual expression. I am habitual by nature and I feel uneasy if I don’t give my expression of annoyance. If I don’t make the face, I fear the building will cave in around us. It’s irrational to think that the strength of a structure depends upon whether I scowl, but I do it anyway.
“Don’t pull that shit again,” Stinson said as he looked up over his glasses for a moment before getting back to writing. I assumed I didn’t need to keep a journal because he was keeping one for me. I wondered what he put on paper about me today. Wynn skipped previous appointment. He is in usual argumentative mood.
“What shit?” I asked with a smirk.
“You didn’t show up on Wednesday. I had half a mind not to be here today. But I knew you'd come,” he said as he leaned back in his chair and turned off his radio, quieting John Lennon and giving me his full attention. “Did you at least go to the school yesterday?” I nodded. “Did you stay for each class?” I nodded again. “Good. How was it?” he asked as he folded his hands and waited for my response.
“It was difficult,” I said, flipping my hands over, showing him my palms and the crescent moons from finger nails dug in by clenched fists. “But I held back from kicking a guy’s ass, so that was good. I participated in class. I found a girl interesting and a new place to photograph.”
“The old science building?” he asked with a smile and I nodded. “I figured you would find that. So… what are you going to tell me about first—the girl or the guy?”
“Well, they tie in together, so I will start with the girl. She was interesting. I couldn’t help but be drawn to her. She wasn’t just interesting, she was magnificent. I looked into her eyes and I wasn't ashamed or worried of what she might find. It was the first time I looked in someone’s eyes and wanted them to see me.” I ran my hands across the top of my jeans as if I could stop the sweat and fear with each pass. “I’m getting tired of passing people on the street and forgetting them.” I clenched my hands, gripping my legs. “God damn it that sounds fucking lame. I’m not saying I want to get to know every person, it’s only her I want to understand.”
Stinson narrowed his eyes, not in anger or questioning, but in evaluation. He watched me as I spoke and I learned years ago this was as he was. I hated it at first, but now it was as common as his house plants throughout his office. “Okay. Don’t wait for me to respond—I want you to continue,” he said with his usual raised eyebrow grin.
“Okay, so after she walked away from me, this guy checked her out and looked at me as if he and I shared a bond and she was our prey,” I said as I clenched my hands into fists recalling the moment. “I wanted to punch him. There was something in that predatory expression he held that made me want to bash in his fucking skull.” I stretched my neck as I tried to withdrawal from my anger.
“Well, okay, those are emotions we haven’t seen in a while. Where do you think they came from, Wynn?”
“Because he saw her as an object and not as a human fucking being and because I hated myself in that moment for my inadequacy.”
“Okay, let’s back up a minute. Now, I’m not one to waste words with you, but this girl, why her? You said she was magnificent. I’ve never heard you use that word to describe anyone or anything for that matter. Did you talk to her?”
I sighed as I leaned my head back and looked at the ceiling. “Nope, I tried to open the door for her and she went through the other one instead.” I smiled as I recalled the memory. “I wanted to talk to her. But I wanted to go our separate ways, too.”
He furrowed his brow, waiting for me to continue.
“We watched each other for a few minutes before that. She was sitting on a bench when I arrived at the school and she watched me,” I said, withholding the part where I took her photo. He didn’t need to know every detail.
“So you didn’t talk, but you say she was magnificent. How is she different from other girls you went out with before or the girls you describe using your favorite term of cliché?”
“I analyzed it last night after I got home from Henley’s. I saw her there, too and at Petra’s earlier. It was seeing her at Petra's that caused my thoughts to run. She was so absorbed in the place and I couldn't take my eyes off her.” I didn’t mention the alley part. It might be wise to share that and the photo I took with my psychologist, but I wondered if he could understand them. I decided to keep it to myself for now as if they were inside jokes only for me.
“Why didn’t you talk to her?” he asked without judgment.
I gave him an annoyed glare. “You know why.”
“Yep, you are scared of not being enough. But you are. You need to drop that bullshit. I’m your doctor, so I have to listen to you, but that's getting old,” he said with a frown and opened the conversation to our usual discussion. I told him of my moments where she entered my thoughts and how I dealt with them. He was conditioning me to be able to speak of my mother without it consuming me.
After I left, I decided to stop by Petra’s store to drop off books. I walked into the store and found the girl putting books on shelves and working behind the counter. She must be Petra’s new hire, holy hell. I kept the books in my bag and looked through the rows nearest to her, and reading the title of one of the books, I realized I was in the romance section. Fuck. I was thankful she was busy at her task and didn’t notice me. I couldn’t decide which would be worse, being caught stalking or being caught reading the title, His Sex Kitten, Cammy.
When she finished her re-shelving she started back to the counter, and I went upstairs to the balcony to watch her unseen. I watched as her hair fell in a natural way, draping around her shoulders. She wore a simple tank top again and jeans that looked like they fit her at one time, but now hung loosely on her. I noticed she had a tattoo of a single word on her wrist.
She picked up a book to read with a man’s face on the front and I could make out part of the title, johnny. The image looked eerie and out of the ordinary, so I searched for it on my phone. The book a person chooses to read says more than any first impression. I was stalking her. After several minutes of searching, I found the book and it was an indie novel. A fantasy, titled johnny, The Mark of Chaos.
The bell to the entrance rang and brought my attention from the book. I watched as the man named Gabe entered. He snuck up behind the girl and gave her a hug that appeared uncomfortable at first. She turned and smiled at him as she pulled her ear buds out. They began to laugh together and I noticed the girl was the awkward part of the interaction. She returned his embrace and laughed, but the way she held herself was as though the intimacy wasn't common for her.
I turned away, to give them a semblance of privacy and found the stern glare of a small German woman.
“Wynn,” she said with her slight accent. “Why are you lurking?”
I gave her wide eyes and a smile, “Lurking?” I put A Brave New World back on the shelf and leaned against the balcony rail.
“Yes, lurking.” She pushed her glasses up on her fa
ce and stepped closer to me. She was a foot and a half shorter than me and I smiled as I towered over her. She looked up and she was so close our toes almost touched. “I saw the way you keep looking at my new employee,” she said as her face held a stern expression for a few moments as she then turned it into a wide smile.
“So,” I whispered as I looked to make sure Gabe kept the girl occupied.
“So…” she said as she held the O shape with her mouth before continuing. “Well so you have never had such curiosity in your eyes. It's an interesting expression on your face, though foreign.”
“I can’t help it,” I said in a whisper. “It's her. I want to know her, but I don’t.” I looked toward the front of the store and saw her still sitting at the counter talking to Gabe. “When did she start here?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Wynn you are a funny guy. But I am happy someone has captured your interest. I worry. But to answer your question, today is her first day.”
I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. “I’m fine, Petra.” I thought of the odd coincidence. “We keep crossing paths. I don't want her to think I’m stalking her.”
“Well, I am sure that is precisely what she will think if she saw you lurking. You aren’t fine, either. You never leave your house except to take photos of god knows what. The people you talk to most are a woman obsessed with books, a tattooed man, and that crazy friend of yours,” she said as she leaned against the shelf.
“I’m particular of whom I give my time.” I looked back at the bookshelf as I stepped away from Petra. I didn’t want the girl to hear me talking of her. Creep is not the label I wanted to receive. I am quiet, but because I choose not to speak and for shit’s sake I was spying on her in her place of work, I was a fucking creep. I didn’t appear crazy, I was crazy.
“You need to give your time to someone though, Wynn. Life is too short not to try. I worry and I don’t want to pass from this world knowing you’re alone,” she said with a sad expression.
I turned back to face her, “Oh god, not you now too. I’m fine on my own and yes I find her interesting.” I leaned toward her to speak quieter, “But give me space. I need to do this in my own way, on my own time, and at my own pace.”
She nodded tight lipped as she squeezed my shoulder and walked away. I wondered what she meant by her comment on dying. She wasn’t sick and she wasn’t old, so it was an odd statement to make and it left me uneasy.
I’m not afraid of death, I’m afraid of what little privacy death gives us. When we are living we have control of our masks. In death, we lose that control and secrets show themselves to the world. It’s as if they sleep in peace, waiting for the last breath to come so they can move with freedom, spreading their wings across loved ones left alive.
As I snuck out the back door of the store and got on my bike, I realized I never got the girl’s name. I figured it was for the best.
On Sunday, I spent most of my time riding my bike out of town and taking photos. It’s always a release for me—to ride in the country and breathe fresh air. I took the road the farmhouse I always wanted to visit was on, but never did. It was old and resembled the house in my mother’s photos from her childhood. I never stopped, no matter how many times I passed though.
I wanted to find truth about her past and thought it might hold the key to understanding who the woman I called Mom used to be. I had to believe something happened to make her the way she was. But I was afraid of what that house might tell me. The unknown truth held more fear than any of my memories.
I continued driving farther out to a ghost town that formed after a factory closed. No one had lived there for at least twenty years and every time I step foot in it I imagine how it was when people were here. They lived, died, and fell in love in this town and then abandoned it. Their stories are now part of the rubble, drifting further into memory.
I walked into the town’s bar and looked across the debris that remained. The entire bar was still intact, but time chipped away at it. Glass from broken windows and bottles littered the ground. The light shone in just right and the contrast with the decay created an eerie shadow. I connected with these places. Forgotten, broken, and torn, I understood these buildings. They were my lifelong friends, the places where I could drop my walls. I never fought the past here.
I sound crazy. My rational mind understands that I should connect with people and not buildings. But history keeps me from trusting people and their stupidity in general reminds me why these decaying buildings are better company. Despite their rubble, they are more dependable than people.
My phone rang as I was leaning to take a photo of a bottle near one of the colored window panes. I ignored it because I wanted to make sure I got the shot I needed. I took several photos before my phone rang again and in frustration I set my camera onto a table to answer it.
“Yeah.”
“Well, hello to you to, man. Did you get my text?” Blake asked as I put my phone under my ear and walked toward the back storeroom, lifting my camera to take photos.
“Yeah, I got it.” I didn’t want to talk on the phone right now, or hear about Blake’s late night conquests. But Blake wanted to, so I tried to make sure my annoyance was heard.
“Okay. So I wanted to hear any questions you might have with my text. And well it being the date, I wanted to check on you. You know with today’s date,” he spoke with hesitation as if he were afraid I was going to flip out.
“Thanks for reminding me. I successfully blocked the date from my mind until you mentioned it.” I didn’t mask my sarcasm.
“Yeah right dude, we’ve been friends since we shit ourselves. I know you,” he sighed into the phone. “Don’t you want to hear how my night went after you left Friday?” He always shifted the conversation when the topic arose about the date and I appreciated him for it. I didn’t want to talk of today’s date.
“Not really,” I said as I looked around the storeroom, taking the occasional close up photo of broken bottles and empty boxes. He could keep his night to himself, especially the moments that included the girl.
“Well, as I said, I met that chick you’ve been stalking. Her name is Hannah and she was cool. I didn’t talk to her much, but I ended up going back to her apartment.” He paused for a moment and I took a deep breath waiting for what he might say next. “Okay, nothing happened. I wanted to get your reaction and judge you,” he said on a laugh. "You tried to pretend you don’t care. But the fact that you sounded like someone punched you says otherwise. In all seriousness, I went back with Gabe and the other couple, so it wasn’t as if I went back to her apartment, you know."
Her name is Hannah.
“Why would it matter if you did?” I lifted a stepladder from the rubble and setting it upright I positioned it in the middle of the room. Hannah. Her name kept repeating in my mind as I lifted my camera to photograph the ladder.
“I don’t know. I saw you watching her and I didn’t want to step on any toes,” he said it almost as a question, wanting me to elaborate on how I felt about her.
“I really can’t have any say in the matter. She’s a girl that I saw a few times on Friday. Sure it sounds crazy, but I can’t believe there was something to it.” There was something to it.
“Oh, Wynnie, ever the pessimist,” he said and laughed.
“Don’t call me that. And I am not a pessimist. I’m a cynical realist.” Defiance riddled my tone.
He laughed at me. “Yeah, exactly,” he paused. “Are you doing okay? You want to go out later?”
“Nah, I’m fine. I’m taking photos in that ghost town. Plus I have class in the morning. I don’t need to go out before that,” I said. That was one good thing about the classes; they gave me an excuse not to socialize.
“Okay, I still don’t understand why you’re going to these classes. It isn’t as if you need to get a job or something,” he said with a laugh.
“Blake, people want to learn sometimes. Don’t you want to learn?”
“Hmm, I want to
learn the best way to please a woman. Oh wait, never mind, I already have a degree in that.” He laughed and there was something hidden in that laugh. He didn’t have demons that he tried to push away, but he had something he never wanted to share with me. We held a silent agreement never to discuss our issues.
“Man, you’re so fucking lame, you know that?” I laughed. He always had a way of saying stupid shit to try to lighten the mood. I always wondered why he did it, was it for my benefit or his own? He had a good life—loving parents, good home, never any fighting. I envied him for that.
“Yeah, I know I am, but that’s why you love me. What time are you going to Sid’s today?” he asked.
I checked the time on my phone. “I’ll be there at five or so, you coming?”
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss your annual tattoo. What are you going to do when you run out of space on that fine body of yours and words in your mind?” he mocked.
“God you’re an idiot,” I said with a laugh. “But I won’t. I don’t think there will be an end to this. Every year is something. Plus you know me and books. There will always be a quote that hits me like a truck and I will have to get it tattooed.”
“Whatever. I don’t know why you want to cover that lovely skin of yours,” he said with another laugh.
“Oh my god, you’re fucked in the head.”
“Again that’s why you love me,” he said and I heard the smile in his voice. He was a schmuck. But he was right, in a way I did care for him.
“Okay, I’m going to hang up now. I’ll see you at Sid’s,” I said.
I put my phone back into my pocket and looked around the bar. Hannah. Her name repeated over and over in my mind and I tried to hold onto the memory of her as she was reading her book. She hypnotized me as I watched her. As hard as I tried to hold onto that moment, older memories kept overshadowing it.
I found myself back at the pool tables in the bar. The torn fabric on them matched the rest of the place. I sat on the table and lying back I took a few deep breaths and covered my eyes with my forearm. I wanted to focus my thoughts on Hannah, but I lost to the memory of that day seven years ago.