Bittersweet
1/08/10
It had been coming on for some time now. They had both known, seen the signals both obvious and subtle, but some things, as we all know, are difficult to let go.
Like so many things, it started with a misunderstanding.
Junior year was, understandably, a stressful time. P-SAT's, college fairs, pre-application interviews, prep courses, campus visits- all this was to be expected of the average student. Jodie Landon, however had been preparing for college since kindergarten. By second trimester she was so stressed from student council, French club, volunteer work and regular school responsibilities that she had literally no time or patience for her boyfriend, Michael "Mack" Mackenzie's rather valid complaints of neglect. Jodie, the very definition of the absent girlfriend, had broken two dates in a row and forgotten a third. Their phone calls were constantly cut painfully short and even their e-mails were few and far between. In school too, their contact was at the bare minimum and finally in the hall between classes the day after that final failed date, Mack took his stand. Most of the junior and sophomore classes stopped to watch the carnage unfold, male and female students alike eager to claim the pieces of the soon-to-be-former couple for themselves; they seemed very much like people who show up at sporting events hoping for disaster.
Jodie's caramel-brown eyes blazed hurt resentment as she faced Lawndale's football captain, chin lifted in defiance. Her stance was aggressive, Mack's defensive but unrelenting; it was plain he had no intention of backing down.
"Tired? Tired of what?" The beleaguered girl demanded with a sneer, eyes narrowed to derisive slits.
"Of what? Of always being there, up on the shelf waiting for the rare occasion you have time for me. Tired of being the ever patient, loyal, understanding boyfriend waiting around gathering dust while you run yourself ragged trying to fill a pair of shoes six sizes too big- and going crazy in the process." Mack's face fell into a mask of pleading which fit him much too well; he spread his hands wide, eyes soft and hopeful. "If you continue at this pace, you'll burn out before you hit twenty. Jodie, would you please just take some time and let me be there for you? Let me be your boyfriend."
For a moment it seemed Jodie would bend, forget some of her burden- or at least let Mack share the weight. Her eyes shone with such raw need, Mack literally ached to take her into his arms and kiss her troubles away. But as always, her hangups won out. The need was replaced by outrage; Jodie's eyes bulged as she unknowingly affected what she called 'Mom's crazy face'- a perfect mirror of Michelle Landon's senseless anger.
"What are you saying- that I'm not smart enough, or capable enough? Which is it, Mack? Because last time I checked, I was carrying a full set of AP classes, French club, the tennis team and Student Council without your help. And holding an A average, and volunteering on the weekends! You're tired of waiting around? I'm just plain tired! Maybe you should try to stop being so damn selfish and think about what I'm going through before you start complaining!"
Stunned, Mack opened his mouth to speak, but Jodie preempted him.
"You know what, don't even bother. I don't have time for this. I'm late for study hall, and I'm stressed enough as it is without you dumping on me every time we cancel a date." She had just turned to go when Mack's soft, calm voice halted her in her tracks.
"If you don't have the time, then neither do I." The world went still; it seemed to take years for Jodie to turn when normally it should take less than a second. I'm tired of waiting for you, Jodie- tired for your apologies, your excuses, and your damn extra-curricular activities. If you're not willing to try, then I'm done."
All of Lawndale High waited with baited breath for the two little words that, when spoken, would turn high school society on its ear. With a deep breath, Mack cocked the starter's pistol.
"It's over." And with that first shot, the news spread like wildfire. It was open season.
Jodie was in shock, and so almost missed Mack's next words amidst the din of chattering students.
"We always said wed stay friends, and I meant it. Call me when you're ready."
Heart heavy and mouth filled with the bitter tang of disappointment, Mack wandered away from his failed romance, a score of squealing girls- and a few boys- hard on his heels. Jodie was left surrounded by her own admirers, eyes wide and with only one thought on her mind.
"What the hell just happened?"
School was long over and Ms. Claire Defoe was tired. Six cases of oils per box and eight boxes had been inventoried, sorted and stored over the course of nearly two hours and good riddance. She would normally have had Anthony help with the heavy lifting, but he had begged off with a migraine. Claire herself suffered from the accursed things on occasion and had settled for a rain check.
Or would have, if not for an unexpected but very welcome visitor.
Michael Mackenzie had wandered in some time after the final bell and, while emptying what appeared to be an avalanche of paper slips from his pockets into the trash, had mumbled something about advice. After quite a bit of hemming and hawing, Michael had spilled the details of his break up, the subject on which he wished to be advised. A kind smile touched Claire's lips. Her opinion on the subject was simple and to the point, but much appreciated by the anxious boy. Michael relaxed greatly as she spoke; Michael had every right to be treated with propriety and had done nothing wrong in requesting proper treatment. He had, by Claire's reckoning, made the right choice. Michael fairly sagged with relief, a vision which lifted the teacher's heart; though he had not been her student since the previous year, Claire had always had a certain fondness for the boy. While not particularly talented with pencil or brush, Michael had an honesty about him which appealed to her. The two had always gotten along well, and visits such as this were not uncommon.
Before much time had passed, Claire suggested the boy head home- she still had a fair amount of work to do and did not wish to take up his time. As always polite and helpful, Michael offered his assistance and after a brief internal struggle, Claire accepted.
They sat now atop one of the Art room's work tables, sharing a diet Ultra Cola and pleasant conversation as they watched the sun drift toward sunset. Lost in warm thoughts, Claire didn't realize he had spoken until Michael tapped her knee with a nervous finger.
"Ms. Defoe?"
"Hm?" His eyes, a deep and soulful brown reminiscent of rich, moist earth were locked on the floor. Claire's smile faded minutely; in all the time spent in each other's company, Michael had never failed to meet her eye. Without pause for thought, she reached out and tilted his chin with a gentle hand until his rich eyes met her fresh, clover gaze. She smiled, warm and inviting and after a moment, remembered to drop her hand.
"Yes, Michael?" she prompted in her soothing, mellow voice and Michael calmed noticeably. She knew it had something to do with her using his given mane rather than the nickname the rest of the school had adopted for him and her smile widened at the thought. It was a true example of their closeness, and the ease with which the two got along.
A bashful smile spread across the boy's face like sunshine over a new day, an expression that endeared him to the woman all the more. After a deep breath, Michael stepped out onto what he thought was a rather brittle limb.
"We should have dinner sometime."
A warm, sunny smile greeted this proposal and Michael's heart soared.
"Yes." Claire agreed. Setting the empty soda can aside, she took the boy's large, warm hand between her own. "And Michael?"
"Yeah?"
"Call me Claire."
No more words passed between them. The warmth which subsided between the who seemed to grow until the whole of the earth floated within a tropical sea, and though a great bitterness lay just behind them and an unknown future waited beyond the horizon, no concern touched the pair. As the sun set on their warmly clasped hands, Claire leaned over to rest her head on Michael's strong shoulder, their smiles contented. Whatever waited for them outside of this moment, one thing would, for them, always be certain. Life could never be sweeter.
End.