Hair, Heart, And Soul
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The first time I saw him, he was in a white suit with a red rose tucked behind his ear. He walked toward me with an air of confidence that I would never have had myself. His stride was long and even, and his posture was straight.
I thought to myself, “That’s the man I want to marry.”
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized it was the suit and not the man inside that I had admired.
It took me a few years to get over my infatuation with him. After all, he was only seven years older than me, and we were just friends at the time. It was only later when I found out about his reputation for being a ladies’ man that I started to realize how foolish I’d been.
Now I find myself watching him from the corner of my eye. I think about what it would be like if he really did notice me. I imagine he would walk up to me, lean down, and whisper in my ear.
“I can see your hair from here,” he would say. “It’s like fire and honey.”
He would take my hand and pull me away from the crowd. We would go back to his place where we would dance, laugh, and make love. Then, after all the passion and the sweat and the tears, he would sit on the edge of the bed and stare into my eyes as he said, “You’re so beautiful, and I don’t deserve you.”
Then he would kiss me, and the rest of the world would disappear.
But then, as if to mock my fantasy, he turns around and walks away.
***
I’m in the middle of a particularly hard day when I see him. He’s walking through the mall with his head down, staring at the ground. I stop to watch him. He doesn’t look up or even acknowledges my presence.
His face is long and narrow, his features sharp and angular. His nose is hooked and his brows are thick. He wears a pair of black framed glasses. I can see the scar on his forehead, and he has a short black beard that frames his mouth.
It’s almost unbelievable how much he looks like someone I know. It’s impossible, but it happens again and again.
He walks past me without looking up, and I feel a pang of jealousy.
“Come on, boy,” I say. “You don’t need to be so glum. You’ll never catch him now.”
I start to walk away, but then I hear a voice call out to me.
“Are you talking to me?”
It’s the man. He turns around and walks toward me. I stand there, rooted to the spot, staring at his face.
He reaches me and holds out his hand. “I’m sorry if I startled you,” he says. “My name is Dean.”
I shake his hand. “I’m Ashley.”
“Ashley,” he repeats. “Do you mind if I ask what you were saying to yourself?”
I laugh. “I was talking to myself about you.”
“Ah,” he says. “Well, I can see that we’re going to get along just fine.”
***
A Lesson In Love
I saw him for the first time when I was sixteen. We were in the same class, and I noticed him because he was different from all the other boys.
We were playing volleyball in gym class. It was our turn to serve, and he threw the ball over the net with such force that it landed a good ten feet in front of me. The other kids laughed at me, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
It wasn’t until years later that I realized the truth: I’d been attracted to him before I even knew who he was.
As soon as I started to notice him, I started to study him. I would look at his clothes, his hair, and the way he walked. I looked for something different, something that made him stand out from the rest of the guys.
And I found it.
There was a scar on his forehead. It was the kind of scar that only someone with a wild imagination could have caused.
When I first saw it, I thought he had been attacked by some animal. Then I thought maybe he’d been in an accident. But when I asked him about it, he told me it was from a fight.
“It was a long time ago,” he said. “I was just a kid. I used to play football.”
I stared at him, and he stared back. For the first time, I realized how much he looked like someone I knew. I thought about his father. He was a big man, and Dean must have inherited his height and broad shoulders. He was tall and rangy, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes.
Then, for the first time, I remembered his name.
Dean was a good-looking guy, and he had a reputation for being a ladies’ man. When I heard his name, I realized that he must be the one who had stolen my heart.
***
He’s so handsome, I think. And he’s such a nice guy.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed when I see him walk through the door. My heart is pounding. I can’t believe that he’s finally here.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” he says. “I know we agreed to meet up at ten, but I couldn’t wait.”
I laugh. “I don’t mind.”
He sits down next to me and takes my hand. We’re quiet for a while, and then he asks, “What do you want to talk about?”
I take a deep breath. “I’ve never been in love before,” I say.
His eyebrows go up. “You have?”
“No.”
“Really? How come?”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to be in love. But I just never found the right guy. I was too afraid to even try.”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll make sure you fall in love with me.”
***
I feel the same way about Dean as I did when I was sixteen. I can’t believe that I’m lucky enough to be his girlfriend. We spend hours together, and I know he’s crazy about me.
We go to the movies every Saturday night. We buy tickets to see the latest movies. It’s our date night, and I look forward to it all week.
The movies are almost over when Dean leans toward me. “Do you want to sneak out?” he whispers.
“What?”
“I have something I need to tell you,” he says.
“But—”
“You know I love you, right?”
My stomach sinks. I feel cold. “Yeah,” I say.
“And I know you love me,” he says. “But I think you might be in love with someone else.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe this.”
“Why not?” he asks. “You’ve been acting strange ever since you started seeing me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you. I’ve been watching you for years.”
“Watching me?”
“You didn’t notice?”
“I guess I never really thought about it.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “I understand. You’re not the only one who can be blind to things.”
“What do you mean?”
“I used to think that I was different from everyone else. That I could see more clearly than anyone else. But then, a few years ago, I realized that I wasn’t seeing anything at all.”
“Then why are we talking about this now?”
“Because I’ve been thinking about it for a long time,” he says. “I know it’s going to break your heart, but I need you to know the truth. I’m not the guy you think I am. I’m just a figment of your imagination.”
“You’re joking,” I say. “You don’t even know what that means.”
“It means you’re dreaming. A figment of your imagination. That’s all.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious.”
“Are you trying to hurt me?”
“No,” he says. “I’d never do that.”
“You must have known,” I say. “You knew I loved you. Why would you lie to me?”
“Because I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to ruin our relationship. I wanted to make sure. So I’ve been watching you for years, waiting for you to fall in love with me. I’ve watched you get older and older, and I waited until I knew that I was the one you were meant to be with.”
“I can’t believe this,” I say. “I’ve never been in love before. How could you not tell me?”
“I was afraid if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“What is wrong with you? How could you do this to me?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t lied to you, but I did. I’ve always been honest with you, and I tried to tell you the truth. I was just too scared.”
“You should have told me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“I need time to think,” I say. “I don’t know what to say right now.”
“That’s okay,” he says. “I understand.”
I sit there for a while, staring at him.
“I guess I’ll go,” he says.
“Yes,” I say. “Please leave.”
He nods. “I’ll be back tomorrow night,” he says.
“I’d like that,” I say.
He walks away, and I feel his presence leave me. He goes home to his apartment, and I go to my own place.
***
I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. My mind is full of Dean. I try to imagine him as real, but it’s hard. I can’t seem to do it.
I get up and pace around the room. I pick up a book from my desk, but I can’t concentrate on what I’m reading.
My phone rings. It’s Dean. I hesitate before answering.
“I know I hurt you,” he says. “I’m sorry. I never meant to do that.”
“I’m not angry with you,” I say.
“I know. But I still want to be with you. I need you.”
“I know,” I say. “But we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just too dangerous.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t explain it,” I say. “I need to protect myself. You understand, right?”
“I do,” he says. “But I really care about you. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I love you, but I can’t risk it. I have to stay away from you.”
“You’re breaking my heart,” he says. “I hate seeing you like this.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I’ll be over tomorrow night.”
“Okay,” he says. “Goodbye, Grace.”
I hang up and throw the phone across the room. It lands on the floor and rolls down the hallway. I pick it up and look at the screen. Dean is gone. I try to call him back, but he doesn’t answer.
“Oh, God,” I say. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you.”
I start crying. I cry until I can’t anymore. I pull out my journal and write in it. I pour out my feelings and let them spill onto the paper. I read the words I’ve written, and they comfort me.
When I finally calm down, I turn off the light and go to sleep.
***
The next day, I tell everyone that I’m going home for the weekend. I pack up my things, take a cab to the airport, and board the plane. I sit there, staring at the clouds through the window, and try to figure out how to get Dean out of my mind.
“I wish I could go with you,” I say.
“What?” My father asks.
“I wish I could go with you to New York,” I say. “I’m feeling kind of homesick.”
“New York?”
“Yes. I miss New York.”
My mother looks at me, her eyes wide. She sits forward. “Why haven’t you ever mentioned this before?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I never thought about it.”
“You should go,” my father says.
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “But it’s too expensive.”
“We can afford it,” he says.
“I have to ask my boss first,” I say.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “If you want to go, we’ll make it happen.”
“Thank you,” I say.
I fly back to Los Angeles and return to work. I’m so happy to be home. I spend most of the day in my office, organizing files and trying to catch up on all the paperwork I’ve missed. At lunch, I go to the deli and eat a tuna sandwich. I take my time eating, and when I get back to my desk, I realize that I haven’t thought about Dean once since I left him.
That night, I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. I wish I was still with Dean. I wish I was going to New York with him. But I know I can’t go. It’s too dangerous.
“I miss you,” I say.
I think about what my parents said. They would pay for it. But I can’t go. I have to stay away from Dean.
I stare at the ceiling and feel my heart breaking.
The End