VII

Musings In Margins

Twenty minutes later I am standing at the bus stop across the street and squinting in the direction from which the bus should be coming. Nothing yet. Another ten minutes, maybe. I sling my backpack off my shoulder, sit down on the cold ground and pull out my notebook, the back of which is still covered with those damn hearts. Sitting cross-legged, I chew on my pen cap, thinking of everything that’s happened today. I glance again at all those stupid little hearts filled with Gary’s initials. (Crap.)

I turn to a clean page and begin writing.

Problem: Meredith says I’m boy-crazy, and I probably am.

Hmm. “Problem?” Is it actually a problem?... YES, dammit! What am I going to do, then? Hmmm...

Solutions:

I. Get over it. Forget it. Forget boys. Just screw it.

II.

Hmmmm...

II. Accept it. Deal with it. So what if I’m boy-crazy?

This is going nowhere. I turn to another page and start over.

POSSIBLITIES, etc.

1. Gary. Pretend I wasn’t in love. Pretend it didn’t mean much after all. Say I’m over it. That’s all I can do.

2. Matt. Amazing, lovely, perfect; way above me and therefore off-limits. Try to hide my passion for him, I guess... How much longer can I possibly contain it?

3. Matt II. Don’t even think about it. It would be too strange if I liked him, and worse, it would prove Mer right.

4. Richard. He’s like my little brother! I can’t BELIEVE Stef thinks I’m crushing on him!! No WAY!

5. Orri. I know practically nothing about him, except that he possibly likes poetry and he does really weird things to my stomach. I honestly need to stop mistaking potential friends for potential boyfriends.

I look at that last sentence, and realize that it sums up my entire problem. I laugh dryly. So I’m not boy-crazy after all--I’m just an idiot.

WHAT TO DO ABOUT...

Gary. Just get over him as soon as I can. He’s wonderful, but I really shouldn’t be moping like this.

Matt. I have no idea. Evidently I’m crazy about him, so I should probably do something. Tell him? Yeah, right...

Matt II. He’s a friend of mine. I’m just going through hormone overload lately, especially after Gary.

Richard. See above.

Orri. He seems cool. I could definitely be friends with him, I think. I should forget the stupid hormone crap--it’s nothing.

That sorts that out, then. The only thing left unresolved now is Matt--astonishingly beautiful, wonderful Matt. What can I possibly do about something like that? This feeling I have whenever I think about him, whenever I’m anywhere near him...he’s just so amazing...

I look down and find that once again, I have doodled hearts in the margin. Dammit, what is it with me and these stupid hearts? I look at them a bit longer in resentment. Then an idea strikes me. In one of the hearts, I write, Up For Grabs. This makes me smile. Then in another little heart I write, This Space For Rent. I giggle like an idiot for a bit. Then I come up with the perfect phrase. Laughing hysterically, I scribble it into another one of the hearts: Your Initials Here. I laugh wildly, like I’ve never laughed in my life. I laugh until my lungs hurt, until my stomach aches--then I sit there, bent over my notebook in my lap, exhausted. I look up and snicker feebly as the bus pulls into view. Ow.

After climbing aboard and plopping into a seat, I feel slightly saner, and oddly cleansed. I take up my notebook again and flip to a fresh page.

Dear Matt--

I’ve been watching you, and

That’s not going to work at all. I sound like a stalker. I scribble furiously over my first attempt and start again.

Matt--

I think you’re wonderful. I just wanted you to know that. You’re amazing, and beautiful, and fantastic; I think about you all the time

Oh, brilliant. That sounds even more stalker-ish. How am I possibly going to say this? What am I even trying to say? That I have a crush on him. But I can’t just say, “I like you, Matt.” That doesn’t even begin to describe everything I feel...

Maybe I should just let it be like that: a little confused, like me.

Matt--

I’m trying to figure out what I want to say in this message, because I can’t begin to describe how I feel about you. I have to say something, though, because I can’t keep it inside any longer. I have to tell you that you are lovely, and I think of you all the time. Your smile makes my day every time I see you. You might not know it, but you see me often as well, though I am probably invisible to you. My heart melts whenever you look in my direction. You are so beautiful, and so wonderful. You are amazing, and I think I love you.

There. If that doesn’t scare the crap out of him, I don’t know what will. I feel less burdened now, though. Suddenly my body rocks forward as the bus grinds to a halt. I swing my bag onto my back and step down off the steps. Walking home, I start singing Liz Phair quietly to myself:

I am extraordinary, if you’d ever get to know me

I am extraordinary

I am just your ordinary average everyday sane psycho supergoddess

Once I give him this, I think, he’ll finally know how I feel. And then maybe he’ll tell me what he thinks of me. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m an idiot after all. Dammit, I shouldn’t be so optimistic. Maybe I won’t even sign this note. Maybe I won’t even give it to him.

Maybe I will.

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