Remember all the girls…
…Forget to call Casey, the cheerleader you’re going out with now; wonder where last month’s Lisa moved; don’t think about the brunette you could’ve loved; throw away the pictures of you and Amanda, the ones that her cousin took on the Fourth of July when she told you that she loved you; ignore the memory of Amanda’s face when you told her you were breaking up with her; hate yourself for the fact that it was the cousin who took the polaroids that you woke up next to a week later; try not to feel like a jerk, even though all of the girls probably think that your name is the definition of that word; wonder why the new ones don’t seem to think that; for the love of all things decent, forget the girl you think you loved; rub the scar that Kelly’s boyfriend etched on your jaw when he caught you kissing her in the hallway; call Casey and ask her if she wants to go out; let yourself smile when she responds yes with a squeal; frown when it seems that she’s too eager, too excited and clingy; plan to break up with her this weekend–it’s her birthday tomorrow, you’re not that heartless; remind yourself to buy something for that birthday, flowers maybe; shower away the sweat of today’s workout and the scent of Casey’s perfume; brush your teeth and spit out the taste of her cherry Chapstick; try to throw away the thought that the girl you might’ve loved never let you kiss her; try not to wonder what kissing her would’ve been like; pull on a shirt that Lillian said would match your grey eyes; muss your hair; spray on cologne; grab your wallet, full of money from working overtime at the auto center–taking girls out is an expensive business; pick up Casey, whose clothes are so tight and skimpy that you wonder why she didn’t just wear a bathing suit; kiss her when she leans over the console; drive to the ‘50s themed diner, the place you took the girl you possibly loved on your first date, the first of many in six months; sit at the same booth where that girl blushed when you told her that her ocean eyes were beautiful, blushed and then sipped her pink milkshake; bite your lip when Casey pulls out her phone and takes another selfie; let your hamburger and fries captivate you when she starts yammering about cheerleading and how good you were at last week’s game; wince when she shoves the arm that a tumble with a wide receiver nearly dislocated; accidentally squirt ketchup on her white denim shorts; apologize profusely when she squeals and hurries to the bathroom to assess and contain the damage; stare across the room at the jukebox the girl you likely loved slipped quarters into to listen to Frank Sinatra croon songs you wish you could’ve crooned to her; force a smile when Casey gets back; don’t run away when Sinatra starts crooning and you have to pay the bill; kiss Casey in the parking lot, and again in the movie, and again when you drop her off at home; look forward to the weekend when you can kiss her goodbye; lie awake until midnight staring at the ceiling thinking about the girl you almost certainly loved; lie awake until four thinking about her ocean eyes and brown waves of hair; lie awake until five thinking about how you should’ve treated her better and why you shouldn’t have broken up with her; lie awake until six thinking about all the girls you didn’t love, the girls that fill your camera roll and follower list and memories, the girls that drain your heart and your bank account and your sanity; at seven, text three words that make you shake and sweat and nearly get sick; worry about those words until eight; drift off around nine thinking about the girl you most definitely loved…
Sent from DYLAN at 7:03 A.M.
I love you.
Sent from SKY at 8:30 A.M.
It’s too late.
….Wake up and wonder why on God’s green earth you let the girl with ocean eyes, the only girl you’ve ever loved, the only girl you think you can ever love, the girl you should’ve never let go, the girl you shouldn’t have abandoned when she needed you most, the girl you should’ve fought for and protected…
be the one girl that got away….
Micaiah Saldaña is an avid reader and writer of stories of all kinds. When she isn’t lost in the stories she writes, you can find her reading books that make her cry, daydreaming about typewriters, going on one of her many adventures, or drinking salted caramel hot chocolate. Find her rambling about stories, adventures, and her faith on Instagram @micaiahsaldana or on her blog at www.notebooksandnovels.com