TheBearJew
05-09-2011, 10:19 AM
The picture may seem random, but somehow I think it fits the story.
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http://ih2.redbubble.net/work.6860558.1.flat,550x550,075,f.blossom.jpg
“****ing ****,” Joey mutters to himself after quickly hanging up the phone, still yet to fully process the conversation he’d just been a part of. Gears in his brain turn far too fast to come to any logical conclusions, and in an attempt to stay calm, he pushes the disappointment from his mind. Concluding that a shower would help him relax, he begins to undress. The thoughts start to bubble up to the surface, but his mechanical preparations for his shower- getting undressed, testing the water- keep him focused on his physical actions, suppressing his thoughts. He enters the shower, desperately attempting to concentrate on scrubbing, washing, doing, rather than thinking, but his thoughts overpower his determination to prevent just that, and he quickly feels let down.
“How can she not be interested?”
He’s asked himself the same question before, and by now, he was impervious to the pain that arises from such a query. He’d first tasted rejection in tenth grade, at the hands of a girl named Alyssa. Head cheerleader. Gorgeous. Smart. Popular. Walking down the halls, one could easily observe the eyes drawn to her figure like a hormonal magnet.
At first, Joey was surprised that Alyssa even seemed interested, and not due to low self confidence. Quite the contrary. Joey thought the world of himself, and recognized his popularity, smarts, and good looks to be worthy of any girl. Still, it was the first time he’d ever really chased after a girl, and he was surprised by the effortlessness of his success. And this was Alyssa.
Every day in biology, they’d both make sure to grab seats next to the other. The class was notoriously dull, and they’d pass the time by scribbling notes in her notebook, many of them rather flirtatious. Each time he’d write her a new note, his eyes would scour her face for feedback, and she obliged him, blushing often, and laughing even more. Sometimes she’d catch him, and they’d lock eyes, both smiling at each other, their feelings transparent, yet some unspoken prohibition kept them from stating their feelings right there.
Still, he knew she liked him. He didn’t want to push off the inevitable so long that she lose interest. And one Thursday afternoon, he opened her notebook.
You doing anything interesting this weekend?
Nothing much.
Well, I was thinking that we could do something together. You know, outside of Dr. Granger’s class.
He studied her face, and she caught him, but made no effort to hide her smile. She quickly looked away, and started writing a response. He looked away, afraid to see the answer, even though he felt sure that she’d say yes. A few seconds later, he felt a tapping on his shoulder, quickly observed as the back of her pen, and she pointed the tip towards the paper. He obliged, stealing a quick glance at the notebook, and smiled.
At home that day, he spent most of his time thinking about her. He told no one of what had happened, fearing that the mere vocalization of their arrangement would somehow, however illogically, prove his question, her reply, and the notebook itself to be purely fictional. And preferring the secretive route, he was forced to pretend that the day was just like any other. Logic told him that nobody, not even his mother, can read his thoughts, but the magnitude of his excitement made him feel vulnerable to just that. He eagerly awaited each moment he’d have alone. In the shower, on the toilet, lying in bed to go to sleep. Alone, he could dream freely, without fear of anyone watching the images hidden in his head.
In the shower, and on the toilet, he’d have whispered conversations with her, imagining her replies. Lying on his stomach in bed, he could finally see her again, and even if it was all his imagination, he pictured the two of them kissing at the end of the date. They were on the couch of his living room, and she pulled her lips gently away, and making eye contact, she removed her blouse, he removed her bra, and the continued making love until Joey finally fell asleep. And judging by the uncomfortable stickiness and remnants of hardened glue on the inside his boxers in the morning, it continued far after that.
The next day was a Friday, and in school, they spoke about what they would do. Their options were limited, as they were too young to drive, and felt too old to have their parents drive them. They agreed on meeting that night at 8 at her house, and that they’d figure it out from there.
The walk to her house took about ten minutes, and Joey, who had been stealing impatient glances at his watch all day, head out when it said 7:50. His anxiousness made him uncomfortable, but focusing on each step, he was able to keep his cool. His state of calm erupted, however, when he reached the steps to her front door. He took a few deep breaths, and knocked on the door, realizing for the first time just how unprepared he would be if her mom or dad would answer. And then Alyssa came to the door with a smile, melting his fears away.
She invited him in, and informed him that her parents would be back only later that night. He followed her into the den, and she put on a movie, motioning to him to sit down beside her.
His first sexual endeavor was far less awkward than he had assumed it would be. A few minutes into the movie, Alyssa sidled her hand into Joey’s and he turned his head to kiss her. After a few minutes of making out on the couch, Alyssa turned the movie off, and led him up to her room. They got under her covers, and without breaking physical contact, they removed their clothes, and Joey, feeling himself inside her, was in awe of the moment, and regretted it being as fleeting as all other moments. He was astonished by his nonchalant performance, and by the utter absence of discomfort.
Little did Joey know that waiting to substitute that lack of awkwardness was an infinite abundance as they lay down next to each other after the act was complete. And when they would see each other that next Monday, not having spoken since their intimate engagement three days prior. He chose to all her, fed up of the immense distance that had grown between them. Fed up of averting his glance when she’d walk past him. Fed up of her intentionally sitting across the room from her in biology and seeing the new notebook she’d brought in. Fed up of seeing her screen name online, and the ensuing tension until one of them would finally sign offline. Fed up of these things, he dialed her number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Joey, Alyssa’s friend. Um, is she around?”
“Oh, Joey. Well, um, let me see.”
Joey analyzed each sound that would emanate from the phone, irrationally hoping that Alyssa wouldn’t be around. But she was.
“Hey,” she said, and his heart stopped momentarily.
“Hi.”
“So, you called.”
“Yeah. I mean, I just don’t know what happened, we’re not even talking anymore.”
Her breath was heavy, and when she spoke, her voice was hardened with resolve.
“I just don’t think I’m interested anymore.”
The shock stifled Joey, and he was scared to speak, fearing his voice would break, fail him and leaving him completely vulnerable to more pain.
“Yeah, alright.” He hung up, exasperated that those were the only words he could muster. He began to violently beat his pillow until tears rolled down his cheeks, and he rested his head on the pillow he’d just abused, and fell asleep.
The next day in biology class, he caught her glance, and waved. With a pursing of her lips, she turned her attention towards the teacher, and though his classmates could not have discerned her true feelings, Joey knew she regretted his waving. And after her response, so did he.
Weeks later, they still barely spoke, and months later, even less. They had grown used to growing apart, and despite sharing friends and going to the same parties, they were careful to limit their acknowledgement of the other’s existence, a new unspoken agreement between the two. Nobody ever seemed to notice their cold manner of dealing with each other, for neither Joey nor Alyssa had shared details of their affair with others.
And, though the process was slow, the pain disappeared, and Joey moved on. Later that school year, he dated a pretty freshman who was known for her kind and caring demeanor. They would date for a little over a year, and by the end of their relationship, Joey no longer thought of Alyssa and their night together.
And yet, as he stands brooding in the shower, he thinks only of Alyssa.
-----
http://ih2.redbubble.net/work.6860558.1.flat,550x550,075,f.blossom.jpg
“****ing ****,” Joey mutters to himself after quickly hanging up the phone, still yet to fully process the conversation he’d just been a part of. Gears in his brain turn far too fast to come to any logical conclusions, and in an attempt to stay calm, he pushes the disappointment from his mind. Concluding that a shower would help him relax, he begins to undress. The thoughts start to bubble up to the surface, but his mechanical preparations for his shower- getting undressed, testing the water- keep him focused on his physical actions, suppressing his thoughts. He enters the shower, desperately attempting to concentrate on scrubbing, washing, doing, rather than thinking, but his thoughts overpower his determination to prevent just that, and he quickly feels let down.
“How can she not be interested?”
He’s asked himself the same question before, and by now, he was impervious to the pain that arises from such a query. He’d first tasted rejection in tenth grade, at the hands of a girl named Alyssa. Head cheerleader. Gorgeous. Smart. Popular. Walking down the halls, one could easily observe the eyes drawn to her figure like a hormonal magnet.
At first, Joey was surprised that Alyssa even seemed interested, and not due to low self confidence. Quite the contrary. Joey thought the world of himself, and recognized his popularity, smarts, and good looks to be worthy of any girl. Still, it was the first time he’d ever really chased after a girl, and he was surprised by the effortlessness of his success. And this was Alyssa.
Every day in biology, they’d both make sure to grab seats next to the other. The class was notoriously dull, and they’d pass the time by scribbling notes in her notebook, many of them rather flirtatious. Each time he’d write her a new note, his eyes would scour her face for feedback, and she obliged him, blushing often, and laughing even more. Sometimes she’d catch him, and they’d lock eyes, both smiling at each other, their feelings transparent, yet some unspoken prohibition kept them from stating their feelings right there.
Still, he knew she liked him. He didn’t want to push off the inevitable so long that she lose interest. And one Thursday afternoon, he opened her notebook.
You doing anything interesting this weekend?
Nothing much.
Well, I was thinking that we could do something together. You know, outside of Dr. Granger’s class.
He studied her face, and she caught him, but made no effort to hide her smile. She quickly looked away, and started writing a response. He looked away, afraid to see the answer, even though he felt sure that she’d say yes. A few seconds later, he felt a tapping on his shoulder, quickly observed as the back of her pen, and she pointed the tip towards the paper. He obliged, stealing a quick glance at the notebook, and smiled.
At home that day, he spent most of his time thinking about her. He told no one of what had happened, fearing that the mere vocalization of their arrangement would somehow, however illogically, prove his question, her reply, and the notebook itself to be purely fictional. And preferring the secretive route, he was forced to pretend that the day was just like any other. Logic told him that nobody, not even his mother, can read his thoughts, but the magnitude of his excitement made him feel vulnerable to just that. He eagerly awaited each moment he’d have alone. In the shower, on the toilet, lying in bed to go to sleep. Alone, he could dream freely, without fear of anyone watching the images hidden in his head.
In the shower, and on the toilet, he’d have whispered conversations with her, imagining her replies. Lying on his stomach in bed, he could finally see her again, and even if it was all his imagination, he pictured the two of them kissing at the end of the date. They were on the couch of his living room, and she pulled her lips gently away, and making eye contact, she removed her blouse, he removed her bra, and the continued making love until Joey finally fell asleep. And judging by the uncomfortable stickiness and remnants of hardened glue on the inside his boxers in the morning, it continued far after that.
The next day was a Friday, and in school, they spoke about what they would do. Their options were limited, as they were too young to drive, and felt too old to have their parents drive them. They agreed on meeting that night at 8 at her house, and that they’d figure it out from there.
The walk to her house took about ten minutes, and Joey, who had been stealing impatient glances at his watch all day, head out when it said 7:50. His anxiousness made him uncomfortable, but focusing on each step, he was able to keep his cool. His state of calm erupted, however, when he reached the steps to her front door. He took a few deep breaths, and knocked on the door, realizing for the first time just how unprepared he would be if her mom or dad would answer. And then Alyssa came to the door with a smile, melting his fears away.
She invited him in, and informed him that her parents would be back only later that night. He followed her into the den, and she put on a movie, motioning to him to sit down beside her.
His first sexual endeavor was far less awkward than he had assumed it would be. A few minutes into the movie, Alyssa sidled her hand into Joey’s and he turned his head to kiss her. After a few minutes of making out on the couch, Alyssa turned the movie off, and led him up to her room. They got under her covers, and without breaking physical contact, they removed their clothes, and Joey, feeling himself inside her, was in awe of the moment, and regretted it being as fleeting as all other moments. He was astonished by his nonchalant performance, and by the utter absence of discomfort.
Little did Joey know that waiting to substitute that lack of awkwardness was an infinite abundance as they lay down next to each other after the act was complete. And when they would see each other that next Monday, not having spoken since their intimate engagement three days prior. He chose to all her, fed up of the immense distance that had grown between them. Fed up of averting his glance when she’d walk past him. Fed up of her intentionally sitting across the room from her in biology and seeing the new notebook she’d brought in. Fed up of seeing her screen name online, and the ensuing tension until one of them would finally sign offline. Fed up of these things, he dialed her number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Joey, Alyssa’s friend. Um, is she around?”
“Oh, Joey. Well, um, let me see.”
Joey analyzed each sound that would emanate from the phone, irrationally hoping that Alyssa wouldn’t be around. But she was.
“Hey,” she said, and his heart stopped momentarily.
“Hi.”
“So, you called.”
“Yeah. I mean, I just don’t know what happened, we’re not even talking anymore.”
Her breath was heavy, and when she spoke, her voice was hardened with resolve.
“I just don’t think I’m interested anymore.”
The shock stifled Joey, and he was scared to speak, fearing his voice would break, fail him and leaving him completely vulnerable to more pain.
“Yeah, alright.” He hung up, exasperated that those were the only words he could muster. He began to violently beat his pillow until tears rolled down his cheeks, and he rested his head on the pillow he’d just abused, and fell asleep.
The next day in biology class, he caught her glance, and waved. With a pursing of her lips, she turned her attention towards the teacher, and though his classmates could not have discerned her true feelings, Joey knew she regretted his waving. And after her response, so did he.
Weeks later, they still barely spoke, and months later, even less. They had grown used to growing apart, and despite sharing friends and going to the same parties, they were careful to limit their acknowledgement of the other’s existence, a new unspoken agreement between the two. Nobody ever seemed to notice their cold manner of dealing with each other, for neither Joey nor Alyssa had shared details of their affair with others.
And, though the process was slow, the pain disappeared, and Joey moved on. Later that school year, he dated a pretty freshman who was known for her kind and caring demeanor. They would date for a little over a year, and by the end of their relationship, Joey no longer thought of Alyssa and their night together.
And yet, as he stands brooding in the shower, he thinks only of Alyssa.