I could shred the ideal image.
I hadn’t seen him.
He didn’t grab toast from my mouth yanking it in a mocking playing way to release my lips. He didn’t lie on my bed, one leg crossed as he’d stare at the ceiling feeling his eyelids go heavy and shut down with a mute bang. Then he’d sleep on my bed, as his legs would fall slowly, his head tilt to one side and his breath steady. Would he flinch if I brushed a steak out of his eyes? Was it dyed?
I didn’t see any roots, but maybe it was newly dyed.
It always was.
Maybe he was so keen on hiding his hair roots like I did with my scribbles.
I rolled my sleeves up revealing the birds, girlies, stars, quotes to run outside and deep the breathable air. I tugged on my tuque as the pink steaks fell on my shoulders. Had I grown them out that much?
Then I felt naked, that I rubbed the back of my neck in embarrassment, just like Mason did, copying his gesture.
Imagination. I look back, then I turn around to expect to see him in the mirror, spreading his arms on the glass on the other way, a new hungry sparkle in his eyes, as his shirt would be unbuttoned several more buttons than usual, sleeves pulled up, hair messed up, several steaks clinging to the forehead by a natural glue called sweat. Teal eyes would watch me, unreadable, as I’d think of rolling my sleeves down. To myself I was naked, I was revealing myself and he was watching me. Mason would attempt to stretch out his arm, but fail due to the glass.
I’d roll my sleeve down, then he’d unbutton his shirt causing me to stop. I wasn’t the only one feeling naked now. I gulped as I watched him untie his tie, his eyes focusing on the neat knot. Then teal would look up, as he’d catch me staring at his exposed neck.
“Bo? I forgot my keeeys.”
“Just a second.” I yelled, looking down, rolling the sleeves down, pulling on my tuque. I didn’t look at the mirror, but as I zipped my hoodie, trying to get rid of the feeling, printing the feeling inside, so that it wouldn’t jump into the real world, I felt a hand cross my cheek in a gentle way.
Then it was gone.
Just like that. Like always. I get torn as I feel my hands shake as I open the door, realizing that I had locked it unless it had been locked by itself. Marcie jumps inside, her tongue producing billions words in a second, as I cannot concentrate in her speech, rubbing my arms, wondering how come I was so cold. I looked at her pretending to understand what the topic was. She kept going, going, going until I understood that I didn’t get about who she was talking about. I could have asked, but I shrugged off that idea, catching the ends of phrases, trying to glue them with my bare hands.
Then Marcie picked up her year books, clutching them against her chest as I stood up, afraid that they might go. I had mine at my parent’s house, so the possibility of asking them was useless. I could have asked Ed, but I didn’t bother and asking Jeremy was no use as I wasn’t the same sex, earning no possible respect.
“Bo? Are you alright? I said Evan lost his and he wants to stare at his girlfriend’s past lurvers. But I mean, look, he is too cute but I mean, there’s his girlfriend, the ex and the ex-ex, who he keeps in contact with and is a bitch. Actually, she’s not as much as the ex. The girlfriend and the ex-ex are best friend but due to the girlfriend’s status she hates her making her-“
Then I dazed off, as she ended the story and headed out with a bang, promising to return soon and drown myself in further discussions, despite my interest and possibility of answering even a yes instead of my usual mechanic nods.
I lie there in my bed, keeping my eyes closed, hoping that Marcie would take long. She’d meet that Martin guy, who she was dating, despite the other girlfriend’s he held. Was it prestigious? Was it cool to hold so many girlfriends as if they had strings tied to their throats which he could pull and voila there they were, ready to do anything for the ‘dying desperate Martin’?
I didn’t want to stand up and look into the mirror.
Martin was probably stroking Marcie’s hair holding her in a hypnotic wave, ready to pounce on her. Does he remind me my brother? But then my brother never held a museum, it was like take out, use, throw away thing.
I didn’t want to head out into the exit.
How was Jeremy? Was he coming? Of course he was. How could he miss the opportunity to screw up some high school girls, who in his head were made for everything, but then in his eyes everybody was made for everything. As if everybody had to risk, take everything from life. Is that a good thing? Open up to everybody exposing yourself, corrupting the ideal image and repeating it so many times that it became daily, boring and dull.
I wanted him to come. I didn’t want to over stress myself.
I wanted him to barge in like Evan would usually, grab the book near my bed, scan its contents, raise eyebrows and chat about some new pin-up model he dreamt about aside from his girlfriend or all two at once. Why not?
Did I want him to come?
The mirror scene, actually all the romance scenes were actually reread for pure amusement before.