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Aug 2013
I slap wax on a hand that’s had its share of crinkles and callouses
as I look in the mirror to mold myself into something out of a GQ:
Man of the Year magazine. I look at my watch and its 8:42. I look
back to the mirror and see something that is not the caliber of a
man but more of a frightened boy buckling at the knees and
shaking at the wrists. The walls behind me start to liquefy and
soon dissolve while the florescent bathroom lights flicker in and
out of existence. I rub my eyes as I manage to hear knocking at
the door over the boombox playing on my dresser drawer. But I
can’t seem to move away from this boy I see right in front of me,
a boy who’s never done anything like this before.


I turn my head to look over and it’s her. Her name is Brittney and
she is the first and only love of my life, though she may not know
it yet. The rainbow colored lights are flashing in her direction to
the sound of the booming bass. I take a look down at my sprinkler
head hand. It has begun to melt into hers, molding ten fingers into
one fiery fist protesting against all the cold voices that tell me, "I
can’t do this." It is a time of swing sets and swing dancing while
long before empty bottles and bar romancing.


She say’s, “It’s getting pretty hot in here” and I say “A wise person
once told me to ‘take off all your clothes’ when that happens”. She
smiles at me and I look away because I’m scared she’s going to look
directly in my soul and figure me all out like, “Where was the fun
in that?” My window of opportunity only opens when something
else reaches in and grabs her attention by the hair. Only then can I
be the mortal to ever look into the face of a goddess whose head is
just preoccupied. The Dj masterfully is mixing music from a bland
radio driven generation to create the perfect stage for an offbeat New
York teenager who is slowly finding out that he has just as much
rhythm as he has shame.


I get a call on my cricket phone from a best friend who couldn’t
make it that night, as if to say he was telling me to grow wings of
my own. I reject the call needless to say and catch that it’s 8:42 and
in that moment I hear someone say, “Baby you’re all that I want.”
I look to Brittney and say, “I don’t know how to slow dance.” She
pulls me to the floor and fastens my hands to her hips as we start to
glide gently from side to side and I hear that same voice resonating,
“I’m finding it hard to believe, we’re in heaven”.


Born as a natural leader though grew up as a follower, I begin to
dig up my roots so we can float to a place where no other human
can find us. A step to left and then to the right as I carry her head
over my shoulder with clouds tickling our toes with every step of the
way. Prickling chills from being up so high make their way
kneading down my spine. A white light flickers behind her head and
I seriously ask myself, “Could I be dead?” Naked bodies chest to
chest and cheek to cheek as two flames becoming one with
heartbeats in sync; a heart that has never beaten the same because
this song never truly ended.


That night marked the largest recorded meteor to ever impact the
world since the extinction of the dinosaurs. I burrowed this lady
closely in newfound wings as we fell from clouds beyond the
atmosphere smashing us back into dancing shoes, rattling the
footing of our tomorrows today and shaking the foundation of
where we now stand. The walls behind her begin to liquefy and
soon dissolve. I look to the only window in this building and catch
a reflection of myself in it, though I do not find the same boy I
once saw before. I see a man with purpose, a man without fear; I
see a man who would take on the world if the challenge arose,
and a man who had finally earned the right to say, “I’m free.” I
leave her hips to rub my eyes in clarity and as my pupils begin to
focus I make out florescent lights that keep flickering in and out
of what appears to be my bathroom mirror. I hear knocking on
my door faintly over the boombox playing on my dresser drawer
while I look down at my watch to see that it is 8:42. I take one last
look in the mirror and I remind myself that there truly is no better
time than now.
ᗺᗷ
Written by
ᗺᗷ  California
(California)   
  966
   Sophie Monigatti Lake
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