These girls meant nothing to me. I was trying. I mean I really was trying to form some kind of connection with them. Even the smallest of glimmer of hope found amongst all of the unnecessary chatter which I found more and more tedious with date would help to cure my illness. A disease that, for the life of me, I could not find a cure. Not even behind all of the pretty faces that I found myself in the presence of on a weekly basis. The only real change from spending time with these women was found in my back account. I suppose it is very true what some guys say; having a girlfriend is like taking on another bill. Though none of them met my expectations for girlfriend material really.
I didn't mind spending money on her however. I never really thought about cash being spent when I took her out. I always managed to become lost in her. In her smile, her uncharacteristically beautiful eyes, the way she giggled and her strange, unorthodox ways of doing things. She managed to trap her with her ways and still hadn't let go. Maybe I was the one who wasn't allowing myself to be let go. She had moved on, she had so moved one. I needed to do the same but had no idea on how to do that.
Everything reminded me of Summer. Bright colors, sweet smells, the sun. Everything. I tried to find comfort somewhere the girls I was seeing but I never found it. They probably all thought that I was some kind of sad little man after our dates. All I ever did was talk about her. I knew that it was wrong, disrespectful even, but it always just happened. I never intended for Summer to become the topic of our conversations but she always managed to weasel a thought about her into me head and the words flowed from my mouth like the crass, loud notes from a bugle.
At least I was getting to eat more than the excess of Twinkies I had back at my apartment. Hostess should be giving me some sort of discount membership or something. I practically the sole reason for their business increase in the last two weeks. Man, why do I love her so? Even better question, why did I allow myself to love her at all? She was a pool of trouble from the get-go and I chose to dive right in head first with no life vest. Why? I didn't know but what I did know is that I shouldn't have. Now there's no one to swim out here to save me. Rescue me from drowning in a now ocean that used to consist of love but is now a mixture of hatred, regret and a tidal wave of depression. Why do I love her so much?
After the last date turned into yet another rambling about Summer session, I have decided to give up. Telling myself, "Tom, you just aren't ready to carry on with your life romantically yet until you are completely over her". I didn't want to listen but the source usually gave out some pretty good advice. Especially when it was in the form of a greeting card. There should be more greeting cards for situations like these. When someone has reached their entire beautifully constructed arm with such smooth skin into your chest and pulled your entire heart out. There should be cards to give to that person that explain the exact way you are feeling when you realize that you now literally have a big freaking hole where your heart used to sit.
In an attempt to find a distraction, anything at all. I reached one last time into my bag of Summer memories and pulled out her constant insisting for me to chase my dream of being an architect. I don't even think I'm nervous for my interview today. All of my other feelings, including my nerves, have paled behind the hurt that I still feel. Taking some time to go and sit and that park bench where I used to take Summer, I figured the fresh air before my interview would be good for me. Little that I knew, that not too long after my sit, a very familiar face would walk back into my life. "Tom!"
I turned to see Summer's face walking gliding towards me. She sat next to me while I struggled to digest the fact that she was actually in my presence once again. Part of me wanted to ignore her, part of me wanted to grab her and press my lips against her own and another part of me wanted to punch her in the face. But I did neither. I just watched her, moving, shuffling around. I was surprised she was wearing dark colors. Had her decision for marriage changed her that much to where she abandoned her bright fluorescents? It was a little weird.
"How are you?" She asked me. I told about my interview. I reluctantly asked about her husband and how her life was going. I really didn't care and I'm sure you very well knew that and I was only being nice.
Seeing here, again, sitting next to me, I wondered how happened. How did she come about being married? She seemed to be light years away from a step like that when we were "together". How does someone just change like that and so quickly? The questions plaguing me burst out of my mouth before I could realize that I was asking them.
"I woke up one morning and I just knew," she told me. Still confused, I pressed on.
"Knew what?"
"What I was never sure of with you,"
How can that be? How could you not be sure? I wanted to be with you. I wanted to take care of you, to keep safe, to protect you, to hold you, dance with you, eat, laugh, cry, and to grow old with you. But I suppose I just wasn't good enough. I feel like I put in the ground work for a project in the making for someone else to come along and reap the wonderful benefits that I felt I was entitled to. Those benefits being everything that was Summer.
Those last words hit me like another spike. A similar spike to the one that hit me when I discovered her engagement. But it didn't hurt as much this time. Perhaps because I knew she already married and there was no chance left for the two of use. Perhaps because I had no more room for another two weeks of self loathing and frustration. Maybe because she finally admitted it or just simply because with those words, I realized that I was finally over her.
The pain in my chest evaporated and I forced myself to turn in her direction after she placed her hand on mine. I made no attempt to grab it back and don't think she expected me to. She had found the hand that she wanted to hold for the rest of my life and it wasn't the one she was touching right now. With a semi-cheerful tone, she wishes me luck on my interview….and my life as she rises from her place on the park bench beside me and begins to walk away. Before she is completely out of view, I call out to her.
"I really do hope that you're happy," I tell her. The sincerity behind that statement surprised even me. I honestly meant that. She smiled at me and continued on her way.
I felt like the weight that I once carried was gone. The same weight I felt since she passed me over for some guy who approached her in a deli because she was reading a book by his favorite author. The same weight that I carried with me to the park bench today had been lifted. Somehow, someway, it disappeared and I decided that life would be better.
I picked up my sketchings case and went to my interview. My life was changing as so were the seasons. Summer had come to an end… and now it was time for Autumn.
