A blast from the past, chapter 1
I stepped off the bus and looked around. God, I remember this place so well. I squinted into the sunlight, heading in the direction of a familiar place. One where my friends and I had hung out quite often. Had the name changed? Was it the same kind of place that it used to be? I hoped so. I pulled my long, brown hair out of its elastic and combed my fingers through it. I pulled it back up, because I knew if I left it down too long, it would get knotted and my neck would become hot.
I saw a pay phone and headed over toward it. I pulled the smudged piece of paper out of my jeans pocket, hoping it was still readable after all of this time. I hoped the person still lived there. If he didn't, where would I live? There's always Chelsea, but I'm pretty sure she moved away a while ago. She could never stand the Bay Area. I dialed the number I had jotted down a little over a year ago, when I left Berkley, unsure if I would come back.
"Hullo," a sleepy voice asked.
"Hey, it's Jenny."
"Jenny? Why are you calling after all of this time?"
"I'm in Berkley. I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out sometime."
"That'd be great. I'll meet you over at Christie Road."
"Okay see you soon."
If I remembered correctly, I was about a five-minute walk from Christie Road. I started walking, wondering if he was there yet. I arrived in about three minutes. No one there. Had he deserted me? Just then I heard a voice from the past, one I never expected to hear in person again.
"Hello Jenny."
I turned around and ran into his arms. I looked into those eyes, remembering all of the times we had together. Then I remembered how sad they had looked when I left on that bus. I was later told by a friend that he had only cried after the bus was clear out of site, because he wanted one of us to be strong. God how I loved him. God how I loved that familiar scent. Everything about him was so perfect. I know they say every rose has its thorns, but with him, it's not true.
I saw a pay phone and headed over toward it. I pulled the smudged piece of paper out of my jeans pocket, hoping it was still readable after all of this time. I hoped the person still lived there. If he didn't, where would I live? There's always Chelsea, but I'm pretty sure she moved away a while ago. She could never stand the Bay Area. I dialed the number I had jotted down a little over a year ago, when I left Berkley, unsure if I would come back.
"Hullo," a sleepy voice asked.
"Hey, it's Jenny."
"Jenny? Why are you calling after all of this time?"
"I'm in Berkley. I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out sometime."
"That'd be great. I'll meet you over at Christie Road."
"Okay see you soon."
If I remembered correctly, I was about a five-minute walk from Christie Road. I started walking, wondering if he was there yet. I arrived in about three minutes. No one there. Had he deserted me? Just then I heard a voice from the past, one I never expected to hear in person again.
"Hello Jenny."
I turned around and ran into his arms. I looked into those eyes, remembering all of the times we had together. Then I remembered how sad they had looked when I left on that bus. I was later told by a friend that he had only cried after the bus was clear out of site, because he wanted one of us to be strong. God how I loved him. God how I loved that familiar scent. Everything about him was so perfect. I know they say every rose has its thorns, but with him, it's not true.
