I stare out across the street from his house. His perky little house with all the colorful flowers that his mother probably planted one hot summer day. And all the little garden gnomes that decorate the lawn and add "life" to it.
My face turns into a grimace of utter disgust and now all I feel is hatred. I know it's not his fault for having such a wonderful life. I bet he doesn't even have to worry about anything. Good grades, friends, girls. He had it all. And what must he have thought about poor little old me?
Probably that I was just some charity case to boost his ego.
Even though the thought crosses my mind I know it's wrong. Chris is a genuinely thoughtful and caring person. That's why I fell in love with him. And I hate myself for it.
I hate myself for loving him.
The light in his bedroom turns on and I wait to see if he, too, already forgot about me. He opens the door and I see the same brown curls that always seemed perfect except at the moment they are an untamable mess on top of his head. His chocolaty eyes that always hold a certain "spark" to them are hollow with dark bags lining the bottom.
I tilt my head, a soft swish of golden hair. Why does he look so terrible? I search my brain for a plausible reason but find none. A white button up shirt and black slacks fit his body, but they seem disheveled, like they had already been worn.
I find my feet moving of their own accord across the street to stand in front of his house, by the glossy white mailbox with the black letters spelling out "Brigandy" on its side. Chris drops himself hopelessly onto his untidy mattress. A long sigh plays on his lips and he seems to stare at the floor, but looks as if he doesn't really see it. Like he doesn't really see anything.
Why does he look so sad? Him and his faultless little life?
I grow heated at that moment and turned to leave. I walk down the sidewalk quickly, my long golden hair shining in the light of the streetlamps. I don't look back. I tell myself I won't because if I do I know I'll break down right there.
I hear a loud slam of a door and heavy footsteps behind me. My eyes widen and my pace quickens. It could just be a coincidence. But even so, I quicken my pace. I don't look back. I'm afraid of what I'll see.
Chris looking at me and not seeing me.
Chris being there and not missing me.
"Ornetta! Wait, please!"
I stop dead in my tracks. My subtle wings flutter a tad and I slowly turn around. Chris is right behind me, huffing and puffing with his hands on his knees trying to regain his regular breathing habits. "What?" I breathe almost inaudibly.
"Ornetta?...Is that…really you?" He gasps finally regaining his regular breathing habits.
"How? You can see me?"
"Of course I can see you! But why are you here? I mean, you're…g-gone…" He stutters, his voice cracking towards the end.
He can see me. Does that mean he misses me? It has to be the reason. I mean, Carmen didn't see me because she didn't miss me. But, Chris, of all people, can see me.
"Ornetta? Answer me. I'm getting a little freaked out here."
He's getting freaked out? How ironic.
So, I do the only thing I can do. I laugh. Hysterically and uncontrollably.
But isn't that what I am now?
Hysterical and uncontrollable.