One Page #26

She called herself Myrtle and she looked at me and laughed, spit flying into my face and resting in shiny pearls on my nose and cheeks. She turned away from me, and I was relieved because the look in her eye was dangerous. I knew she was about to propose something to me, and it would be something that I didn’t want to do. It always was. The light was fading as we stood on the beach. We had moved away from the water because the waves lapping against our feet sprung goose bumps on our arms and shivers along my spine. We were nearly warmed by the sun now, which had turned a crystal yellow orange surrounded by rays of red and deepening purple. My feet were dry now and my hands were deep in my pockets as I faced Myrtle’s back. Her neck was unusually long, and I always thought about this when I looked at her back. There was nothing else extraordinary about Myrtle, except for her neck. I had once touched it and she had looked me coldly in the eye. I never went near her again, even though sometimes I thought that she wanted me to. But only as a dare. I turned my back on her and looked towards the mountains in the distance that were rimmed in fog. I could see the first of the stars appearing. From behind I heard Myrtle turn around and then felt her hand on my shoulder. I spun around unnecessarily quickly and looked at her. Her eyes were soft and her mouth slightly open. A plane flew far overhead. It whispered a rumble in my ear. Myrtle’s hand was still on my shoulder and we were closer than we had ever really been. Sometimes when we went to scary movies she would grab my hand in fright, but we weren’t close then; her reach was only out of necessity. But now something had changed. The red light reflected in her eyes and glinted off her stud earrings. Through her tank top I could see her chest rise and fall with her breathing, but I didn’t look down, I only looked straight into her eyes. She looked away first and headed toward the pier from where we had come. There were kids and old men fishing off the pier, but they looked bored and tired, even from far off. I waited a moment and then followed her. We didn’t walk next to each other the whole way back. At the pier she hopped up the stairs and headed home without saying goodbye. My house was in the other direction. I felt like I had failed a test that I hadn’t signed up for. It was more of a pop quiz really, sprung upon me unknowingly. And I had failed. I wondered what the consequences would be, if I would fail the course or still be able to get an A later on if I worked hard enough. Myrtle wasn’t her real name, it was really Rose. But she was not a flower in my eyes.