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Once Had Been
By Matthew Campbell
It was cold that morning as I stood outside her classroom smoking on a
cigarette. There was frost over everything (the tiny blades of grass, the
fiery leaves, even the massive fountain in the center of the square was
covered in a delicate sheet of ice. My nose was stung by the bitter cold,
and my fingers were numb where I held the burning smoke.
It was easy to say it was the cold on the outside that sent shivers down
my spine, but I knew the tremors came from somewhere inside of me as I stood
there waiting.
The story was a familiar one for me; I had lived it once before with the
last girl in my life. That battle had left me shattered inside and out,
torn apart so as to be nearly unrecognizable from what I had been. Why,
then, was I so quick to head into the same kind of situation a second time?
The girl, of course. She was one of those types that lifted your
spirits just by being around her. You liked to be around because she made
you feel good and made you laugh and made you think. She was pretty, too.
Not drop-dead gorgeous, mind you, but attractive all the same. All in all,
she was just plain fun to be around, and that was how I was blinded at
first awash in a sea of bliss.
The door to Humanities '03 opened, and as I was about to flick the
cigarette into the frost green, I thought better of it and let it fall to
the brickwork where I could safely grind it out with my boot. Student began
to shuffle out into the frigid air, pulling sweatshirts and buttoning coats
in futile response. I smiled at a few that passed, but said nothing. I was
waiting for Gwen.
The number of students began to dwindle, and I wondered if I had missed
her somehow. I turned my back to the door and began scanning the faces
bustling around the frozen fountain. I knew I couldnıt have missed her.
"Hey Yogi." I heard the voice behind me, that playful tone that I had
learned to crave and need as surely as an addict would.
I turned and smiled, knowing who was there. Gwen. Her hair fell in
wavy locks around her face, the blond highlights shimmering in what little
sunlight found its way there. Her eyes drooped slightly, almost sleepily,
as if she were caught somewhere between waking and dreaming. Her cheeks
flushed quickly as they struck the freezing air.
"Hey Boo Boo," I greeted her quietly through a half-smile.
That had been one of our games. I had called her Boo Boo quite by
accident one night, and she took to liking the pet name. She continued to
use it long after I had forgotten about it, and every time she used it, it
made me smile. It made me happy.
She took my hand in hers, and we began to walk. I felt warmed by her
presence, yet I continued to feel cold on the inside. I tried to push it
away without knowing why, did so by asking about her morning. She proceeded
to tell me about her hot shower during the morning chill, of her trip to the
commons for breakfast, of the pancakes she ate with maple syrup, of her
workout at the gym, and finally of her English class she had just left. I
smiled when she smiled and frowned when something bothered her. I felt like
I was acting. I really did care about Gwen, but my actions and reactions
seemed forced and played out, as if I was only pretending in order to keep
her close.
I felt as if I was using her.
Another shudder went through my body as I thought that, and the
incredible cold settled in once more.
When she was done with her story, we walked in silence, keeping each
other company simply by each otherıs presence. She looked over at me with
those sleepy eyes of hers, staring into my eyes, as if she had been
struggling to find a connection. Her look was of caring and want and need
and promise, all things I was not sure I was seeing in her.
Then she smiled, giggled softly, and looked back at the brickwork as it
passed beneath it. I used the silence to think about what was
happening (despite the intense warmth burning in my hand. Gwen was special
to me, I had known that at the first, yet at the same time, I felt a
familiar pattern taking shape. I sad pattern. The last girl in my life had
been special to me as well.
Until I learned that she was using me to get back at her old boyfriend.
Until I found out she had been cheating on me.
Until I found out that I had been used the entire time.
It had been my first real relationship, and she had been my first love.
The revelations that came from that relationship had crushed me as surely as
an eggshell under the weight of her heel.
With that thought in mind, I saw the shape of my relationship with Gwen
coalescing into what I had had with the last girl. Only this time, I had
the suspicion that Gwen was the one being used. Yet, how could that be
happening when I had worked so hard in conditioning myself against such
attitudes.
An icy breeze blew past us, biting into my cheeks and nose and eyes. A
shiver spun down my spine in response, or had it been from something else?
"We should watch a movie tonight," Gwen had said to me as we walked.
"Have you seen Reservoir Dogs?"
I shook my head, no. "We should watch that tonight."
And that had been that. We parted briefly, for I had class and she had
class, but we met that night in her room. She was all alone. Her roommate
was in Seattle for a few days, and there was no one there but her. She
greeted me in her lowest voice, "Hey Yogi." And again, I smiled, because it
was Gwen who had said it. We sat down on the floor and talked about class.
We played cards, which I lost horribly to. With Gwen, it was always give
and take when we played rummy (sometimes I would beat her pants off, and
others, she would destroy mine. We had laughed and flirted that night,
playing like a couple of kids, poking and prying into each otherıs mind,
trying to get a feel for the other. It was one of those nights that I would
remember forever.
She put the tape in after that, and together, we crawled onto her bed
and wrapped ourselves in covers. I had never seen Reservoir Dogs before,
and I didnıt get to see it that night. It wasnıt anything directly sexual,
mainly because I wasnıt really ready for that kind of thing just yet. We
had held each other close, I played with her fingertips, and she ran her
fingers from her free hand through my hair. We talked about small things,
like what we were like in grade school and what kinds of music we liked. It
had been a time of beginnings during a time of extreme danger. Danger.
Gwen was always saying how dangerous what we were playing at was.
Gwen, of course, was spoken for. Her boyfriend lived in some Midwestern
state, attending college in her home town, whereas she had decided to come
to the northwest. He was her first, and they had been together for nearly
two years, no small feat for a couple of kids as young as they were. But
then she was here and he was there...and connections were being lost.
That all changed that night though. I think back on it and laugh now,
only because of my stupidity and blindness.
"Joelıs coming up to see me this weekend." She spoke to me without
looking at me. I wasnıt bothered at first. It barely even fazed me, for I
had known from our first meeting that she had a boyfriend, albeit she was
losing touch with him, and she was in it now merely for security.
"Are you excited?" I had asked her, not letting even the slightest bit
of jealousy creep into my voice.
She told me yes, even though she had said it as if she had died by
saying so. She told then how much she missed seeing him, yet later, after
the movie had ended and we went down to the parking lot to smoke, she told
me how frustrated she was.
"Frustrated at what?" I had asked.
Gwen gave me a look, the faintest smile appearing on the corners of her
mouth. "You really donıt know?"
I told her I had suspicions, of course, but that they were just
suspicions until someone else voiced them.
"I always seem to meet the greatest guys when I am with Joel. But this
time, Iım just frustrated, because Iım not sure I want to be with him."
Those were the words. Flags went up. Sirens were blaring in my ears.
Those red and blue police car lights were flashing across my eyes. My
suspicions were correct, but that pattern that I had experienced before,
came to the forefront of my mind, and I saw it taking brutal shape. I saw
myself in pain again. I saw myself losing control, of falling horribly fast
and far, and I found myself choking on my breaths.
But I pushed it away. What did it matter? I knew this was going to
happen. There was nothing to stress about because there was nothing truly
happening between us, other than the attraction. We went our separate ways
that night, but things didnıt change. We still held hands clasped tightly
together. We still played our games. I didnıt feel as if I was using, I
didnıt feel as if I was being used, until...
...until the weekend came.
And with it, came Gwen into my room one afternoon as I was sleeping.
She lay down next to me. We had talked for hours, her body pressed close
against mine, her hands running softly through my hair. Our lips never
touched (they never had before). There was a sense of belonging, of being
loved, and I was getting sucked into that blinding sea of bliss. The sirens
and flashing lights and waving flags were slowly disappearing into the
background. They did not reappear until Gwen rose to leave.
I held her close one last time, hugging her so tightly that I thought
she might pop. I told her to have a nice weekend, and that I would see her
Monday. I told her goodbye.
Now the cold has sunken in once more as it had on that first day it
appeared. I sit here alone, thinking back and wondering. I wonder what
Gwen is doing now. As I puff away on my cigarette, sucking the smoke deep
into my lungs, desperately trying to dispel the crushing anxiety. The
weekend has not ended, not in my mind anyway.
Gwen has not come back.
