Many Million Dreams Ago • Ch. 2 of 10
The Chapter’s Song:
I was a mere fourteen years old when meeting her for the first time. I’d just started high school and was getting accustomed to my new courses when out of the corner of my eye, a girl took a seat right on the front row in our English class. I saw her before knowing what I was truly looking at—, or for. Long lashes with dark, downcast eyes. Probably scribbling something in her notebook. She wore black from head to toe. It matched her aura and pulled me in like a magnet. The teacher started role-call when I first heard her voice. Something about the way she spoke in lower tones made my soul want to console her own. An innate empathy. She was always deep in thought over something. I was envious that it wasn’t me she was thinking of. So I got closer —, needing to know more about her.
“I’m...” so-and-so she said with a slight grin. Even then, at the very sound of her name—, a million memories stirred up in my mind from moments that hadn’t happened yet. Like a mist —, they rose up from the ground and encircled me with abstract vibes. I saw “friendly kisses,” a beachfront as wide as the world could reach, and so much more than I was able to comprehend. I saw broken glass, bloodied knuckles, and nobody to go to for sympathy. Heaven and hell met in the middle and out came a mixture of beautified malice. After catching my breath, I finally managed to make out;
“Hey—, my name’s Dre.” We’d go on to sit by each other in every class we had. It was a familiar presence—, something that we’d felt long before ever meeting. Soon, we became friends. Then good friends. Finally—, she became Best Friend and with that, I’d unknowingly marked the next half-decade of my life, hers.
Our English class began showing daily movies. The fluorescent lights would shut off and the only glow left came from the TV screen at the head of the room. I had to take my chance while the idea was still fresh.
“You know what I love?,” I asked her one day. “Hand massages.” She pulled out a little bottle of lotion from her bag and dangled it in midair, tempting me to go ahead and ask if she’d like to give me one or not. I did. She did. Everyday, like clockwork—, as soon as I’d take my seat, I’d hear the popping sound of her opening the bottle and squeezing out fruit- scented moisturizer onto her hands, just to take up my own and begin our ritual. I thought it was just something flirty between friends, nothing more. Then the teacher turned on the lights without warning one day. She suddenly thrust my hand back towards me and spun around as if we hadn’t just been caressing each other for the past half-hour. A thought too complex for dissection immediately filled my mind. She can only do this in the dark. It came out of nowhere and whispered itself awake, growing until it’d one day make more sense than I was really ready for.
The years passed by and we went from being freshmen to sophomores, juniors to seniors—, all the while, still maintaining a certain level of our friendship throughout. Finally, prom came around. I looked proper in my black tux. She wore her hair up and a deep-violet dress that was perfectly draped against her olive skin. We couldn’t go together so we danced with our partners in circles around each other instead—, slightly dispirited that it wasn’t us in the middle of every spotlight.
“You look so handsome,” she quickly said to me. I couldn’t bring myself to say know how I thought about her in return—, a picture of pure style. I felt a sort of envy for everyone else in the room that night. They’d see her at all angles, all the seconds in-between the looks I’d be able to sneak in for myself. Graduation wasn’t too far off afterwards—, and we’d already begun hanging out with each other much more than at any other time beforehand. We prepared to leave high school together—, each by the other’s side. We walked the stage and received our diplomas on the same, glorious day. Our journey towards the real world had officially begun—, it stretched out right in front of us and went well beyond the horizon up ahead. All we needed to make everything as perfect as possible was to be together—, in a very formal, very real sort of way. It didn’t take too long for the first step to present itself.
The relationships we both carried on with eventually began suffering from the fact that it wasn’t the other we’d be kissing. They broke apart simultaneously once summer started. We were finally free to enter into a new phase of our friendship—, we just needed to wait until the right moment came along. Nobody could’ve predicted what was yet to come. Neither of us had a clue as to what was still expecting us. It’d be endless elation; parking structure smoke-sessions, continuous concerts, and candlelit swimming pools. During those specific seconds in our lives, we just lived for the present and wouldn’t dare think about tomorrow until we’d be able to watch the sunrise itself with our own eyes. Like the blossoming trees surrounding us, we were very much in season.
She came over my place one sunny afternoon. We’d just gotten a new fifth and wanted to share it together.
“Do you have a chaser?,” she asked.
“No chaser—,” I said, so that’s the way we got used to doing things from that point on. Shot after toast after drink after sip—, we slowly succumbed to the oncoming effects, in our movements, our eye-contact, and our thinking. We snapped dozens of pictures with the disposable camera we’d gotten earlier and they’d too, turn out blurry and bewilderingly foreshadowing of what was yet to come. We let ourselves get guided by a vague and dream-like apparition that wanted to see us nothing short of completely impaired. It called out to us like a phantasmic force from the back corners of our minds. It was something dark—, something that threatened to shut off the artificial sunshine the drinks were providing and place in its stead the permanent dusk of an oncoming nightfall. We tried to ignore it as best we could. Still—, it lulled us off towards the deep, shadowy depths of future possibilities.
Something about the way she looked made my heart melt at the thought that this may be one of the most memorable moments of my life so far. I was on the verge of the best summer I’d ever have and she was quickly becoming my partner throughout it all. We laid on my living-room floor—, laughing, lushed up, and slightly in love with the feeling. Things spun and swirled, twisted and twirled. Another level reached in each of our worlds. Time slowed to a crawl. Arms moved through the atmosphere and left traces behind in mid- air, knees bent and became weak from the constant spinning, our eyelids got heavy with the weights of wanting to stay awake another second longer, but couldn’t. Treasure this. I suddenly got up to go to the bathroom, needing to splash some cold water on my face. Once there, I peered into the mirror with an intense stare, looking at my half-grin with caution. Stay cool, I thought to myself. I left to head back into the living-room and there she stood, center-stage. A gush of wind wafted through her hair from the open window as she balanced on both feet, standing up straight—, tall and alive. The apartment’s walls seemed to sweat themselves something wet. Like the summer heat had made its way into the room, making it and everything around exude a thick moisture. I knew she was at the heart of it all —, radiating a fervor for the moment that I couldn’t capture into words. I wanted it to last forever. The feeling of being much more than tipsy with her by my side had finally bit me. That’s all I’d crave from there on out. A shared sense of urgency at the need to be permanently plastered together.
We’d see movies every once in a while and were on our way down the hallway toward the theater one night when a friend from school saw us and came over.
“You’re not seeing this movie are you?,” she asked. “They say whoever sees it together will fall in love. So be careful, you two.” The plot played out like one would imagine; friends- turned-lovers, fate ripping them apart, and eventually, them finding their way back into each other’s arms. What a storybook ending it all had. We didn’t pay it much attention. It was, after all, just a movie.
We found ourselves doing one of our favorite things one day—, strolling around a bookstore. We knew we’d wanted to buy a book and read it together so settled on John Milton. We walked out with our two copies of ‘Paradise Lost’ and she’d go on to laminate hers not long afterwards—, cherishing it. Tragically and regretfully, they’d end up sitting on our shelves collecting more dust than memories. To turn back time and relive something over, it’d be to have read together more often; analyzing, commenting, growing in every way.
We’d go on to see each other daily—, mostly just to ride around downtown together. On a particular evening, the stars high above us twinkled the night sky alive. A cool air breezed through the atmosphere as she and I stayed inside my grey Nissan Sentra, parked and properly filled with the sweet smoke of clove cigarettes. We’d light the thin black sticks and hear the small embers sizzle themselves ablaze. Tonight felt different than all the rest of the times we’d been here before—, on the top floor of one of our favorite parking structures, overlooking the entire city from a perfect vantage point. What was it about her and I together that made so much sense and almost contracted my stomach from the intense nervousness which I felt? Maybe it was the type of energy she always gave off. Her vibrations were wrapped in a deep, dark burgundy—, like always. Completely shadowed from top to bottom. Something that’d dim the lights to any room she’d step into and make everyone else take notice of her standing there in the doorway. She was nighttime personified; mysterious and romantically mystifying. I had to be a part of it —, the journey she was on. I needed to know that I could reach out my hand and there’d be hers, waiting to touch mine in return. Back to the moment, back in my car;
“I need to tell you something,” inexplicably came out of my mouth. She looked at me, patiently waiting to hear what I had to say. Take a deep breath, then go—; “I think I..., love you—.” I couldn’t believe I’d actually said those words, let alone in that specific order. The phrase flowed through the car, hanging in the air for a moment, changing everything from there on out. She listened—, wanting to say something in return but couldn’t seem to find the right words. We eventually started driving back home. Something was different, like a weight had been removed from my shoulders and I was finally flying high throughout the sky above. We reached her neighborhood and again, parked to say goodnight, goodbye. Hopefully not for good, I thought. She exited the car only to come back in a second later and stretch herself over to my side, kissing my cheek.
“I love you too,” she quietly whispered and with that, left to go back inside her house. Like she’d just told a secret too shocking to repeat, I still replayed it over and again in my mind for the rest of the night and much of the next morning.
We’d made our local coffee shops homes away from home. When there was no place else to go and everything around was closed —, we’d head for the twenty-four-hour open spots we’d grown so accustomed to. It was there—, sitting at a table by the front doors one night—, where we’d make our pact. It started as all of our friendly conversations did back in those days. We talked about the future and what things still lay ahead for the both of us.
“So what about marriage?,” she asked out of nowhere. “Do you see yourself going down the aisle with anyone?” I’d told her before how I didn’t think I’d ever find someone to truly settle down with. That I wanted to stay a bachelor for as long as I could.
“I don’t know,” I answered back, too afraid to let on that I’d already begun picturing her in a long-flowing black wedding gown for a while now.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said, pulling out a piece of scrap paper from her backpack. She started writing. “If neither of us are married by the time we’re twenty-eight, let’s marry each other.” My heart melted at the thought. The only setback was having to wait for ten full years to pass. She drew two horizontal lines at the bottom of the page and wrote her name out on the first in delicate cursive. Then she slid it over to me. “Sign it,” she nearly demanded. So that’s exactly what I did. Of course—, it too would get lost on the long road of life. The paper, the promise, and the pretend marriage would all eventually disappear.
Before any of that would have the chance to happen, however—, we still had another stepping stone to traverse and the perfect opportunity finally presented itself in the form of another night spent inside my apartment. I’d put on one of my favorite movies and the charming storyline took us to places inside our imaginations that were simply inevitable. We sat on the floor right in front of the TV, watching, waiting for one of us to make some type of move. Finally;
“How about a back massage?—, I give really good ones,” I said, recalling an old technique that’d already brought us this far.
“Of course,” she responded. I readied myself and got behind her, letting my hands rest on top of her shoulders. Steady. Then I started. My fingers trickled down her back, up her arms, and down once more. Things—, escalated. Slowly, but surely. There was a tension too thick to ignore. She wanted something to happen. I wanted something to happen. I gently brushed my lips against her nape. Her head bent down, exposing her neck that much more. We couldn’t take it—, there was nowhere else to go. We’d hit a wall. Anything more would’ve been, improper, given the fact that her previous relationship was still going through the process of officially ending.
“Excuse me,” she said, getting up from the floor and heading straight for the bathroom. She was covering half of her face and I figured that wasn’t a good sign. I hadn’t wanted to upset her by any means, maybe the situation was just getting out of hand. She emerged a few minutes later with slightly smeared mascara and a smile. She came over to me, took me by the hand, and led me over to the couch. We sat. And sat and sat and stared and wondered where things could possibly be headed. She pulled me closer to her body as we both slowly fell backwards onto the armrest. I wanted to inch even closer, to meld my hands with hers but couldn’t dare do something we’d regret later on.
“We’re friends..., right?,” I let myself say.
“Right..., friends,” she whispered back. Then, the words came that’d change the course of everything afterwards; “How about a friendly kiss?,” she suggested. All I could do is nod as my heart exploded within my chest, readying myself, letting our lips get pulled into something they’d never be able to rip away from. We drew closer to one another. Then—, everything made sense. The patience, the practice—, finally; pure romance. She was there all along, sitting one seat up or to the side of me in class, drinking coffee with me at our favorite places, always there—, before I’d ever really met her. How much can a single kiss truly change in a person’s life? Or their journey’s trajectory? Or even their understanding of love and fate in the first place? I didn’t know. What’s more—, I didn’t care. All I wanted was this moment to last forever—, to freeze our timelines together and never let them thaw again.
What type of tumultuous affair awaits those who come across both Best Friend and Lover within the same person? I was about to find out first-hand—, whether or not I’d ever asked myself the question before. At the outset, it’s like doing a line of the purest drug one can find. It goes in through the system and quickly travels up towards the brain—, scrambling the chemicals, offsetting the levels, creating a complete addict off of a single use. The stars whirl up in the heavens above. The planet spins on its axis like it wants to tip over and spill into the nothingness that surrounds it. Everything is beautiful and sunshine is everywhere. Then; the withdrawals. Shivers and shakes, the heart races and aches and all the while—, we endure these things alone. Nobody around us truly understands our plight. They see us meandering through life with no more smile or expression of happiness on our face and ask “why?” They don’t comprehend it—, how could they? Unless they’ve made the exact same mistake of taking that draw off the table then they’d have no way of coming to grips with the hate that we feel when we’re emptied for a soulmate’s own sake. And that was that. I inhaled and the powdery substance of her essence went up and through me like fine sugar—, sweet and addictive.
Things naturally progressed afterwards. When we weren’t sitting right beside each other in the car, we’d be thinking about sitting right beside each other in the car. We started doing everything together—, going everywhere, ignoring everyone. Before we could ever really catch onto it, we’d become each other’s worlds. Memories were being made on a nightly basis. We always tried to capture the feelings as best we could with pictures, notes, and letters.
Finally, a day arrived that began much like most others. We sat inside the car out in the parking lot, listening to music and doing our daily tradition. She lit a cigarette, exhaling the clove’s smoke slowly from her mouth into mine as it drifted up and through the air. The energy was already pulling us toward one another in ways we hadn’t ever felt before. It’d be a technique I’d keep with me for years on afterwards. Once we’d finished half the pack, we slowly made our way inside. We found ourselves alone again inside my apartment. Things only took a heavier turn after the chilled bottle I’d saved in the freezer came undone. We’d both become inebriated just enough to still enjoy reality while creating our own in the process. We sat crossed-legged on the floor, staring into one another’s bloodshot eyes and let our minds wander off as far as they could go. I gently took her hand in mine and began filling the spaces in-between her fingers with my own and with that—, the rest played out like a fairytale. We pinned each other up against my bedroom door, taking turns at who was undoing whose belt.
“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” she got out in-between kisses. I figured as much—, as I felt the exact same way. We finally burst through and into my room while staying wrapped up in the other’s arms. We’d created a magnificent mixture of perfume, cologne, and sweat. Things mixed, interwound, and coiled together to form a new shape. It was almost perfect—, almost. It needed one final touch. I reached for our bottle and let it slowly drip out on her stomach. It flowed down towards the carpet below and sealed us together in a fusion of deep euphoric revelry. Like glue—, alcohol bound us as one unique being. An entity made up of dulled senses and liquid confidence. We’d found our permanent calling on that fateful day.