Sequel: Dear Liz ›
Dear John
I need you so much closer
I officially met the fifth John of the O'Callaghan family one Summer night in a bench right across from Jackie's house.
It was probably around 1:15 that I decided to exit my best friend's home –in which a party was taking place– and relax on said bench while smoking a cigarette.
While inside, I could feel the beat of the music vibrating in my chest and, when I stepped outside, –naively hoping to enjoy the silence of the night– my ears felt clogged and I could hear a constant beep tormenting my eardrum and the sound of muffled music coming from the building I had recently left.
Anyway, I'd just lit the cancer stick when I saw him making his way out of the house, looking around –searching for someone with a packet full of cancer, no doubt– and, finally, spotting me.
He walked towards my lonely self with his hands in his pockets and a small smile playing on his lips. It was nice, it was almost like a nervous smile, like he knew there was a possibility of me denying him what he wanted.
With my eyes I followed his every move –while taking a drag and exhaling smoke– until he finally stopped right in front of me.
"Liz, right?" That was also nice; he didn't go straight to the point and he remembered my name.
"Yeah." His smile grew slightly –as if knowing he had done the right move– and he nodded his head towards me with his eyes set on the object between my right index and middle fingers.
"Mind if I bum one?" I looked at the cigarette I was holding and nodded, reaching towards him the recently opened pack of American Spirit. I watched him as he took one of the small rolls of tobacco and placed it between his thin lips while I searched for the lighter in one of the pockets of my jacket.
When I found it, I leaned forwards and he bent down as a small flame erupted from the lighter. He didn't go back to his original position until the tip of the cigarette had the orange glow of fire. His eyes were closed as he took a puff and, as a messy cloud of smoke left his mouth, he sat down next to me. "Thanks."
I smiled and let a small laugh escape my lips. His head turned to look at me, confusion written across his face.
"The lead singer of The Maine smoking…what would your fans say if they saw you?" he laughed. It was a very pleasant, sweet laugh. Slow. Like he wanted you to take it in.
"What they don't know won't hurt 'em."
I nodded –still smiling– and, with that said, a long silence took place between us. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. It seemed…right.
The music was still blasting at Jackie's and a cricket or two could be heard around us –in an almost comical way– and, if I concentrated enough, I could actually hear the sound of him breathing in the smoke and the sound of the flames consuming the tobacco.
A couple of times, I turned to look at him from the corner of my eye. He was one of those guys that looked pretty attractive while smoking. Now, don't get me wrong; I do not approve of people smoking –it's a horrible, horrible habit– but his lips, his eyes…his whole faced relaxed as he took in the nicotine. I wondered if there was something healthier that could make him look like that.
After a couple of minutes he threw the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his boot. I still had about two drags left.
He turned to look at me.
"So…I don't think we've been properly introduced."
"Not really."
Ah, yes.
His face was not unfamiliar; we had gone to the same high school after all. However, being a year younger than him simply didn't give us the opportunity to meet.
Yet, we knew each others' name, we had a pretty good idea of where each other lived and he knew the people I hung out with and vice versa. We even had friends in common but, somehow, an introduction never took place.
Also, living in Tempe and not knowing the local heroes (a.k.a. The Maine [a.k.a. him]) was rather difficult.
"John Cornelius O'Callaghan the Fifth," he said extending his right hand at me. I smiled.
"Elizabeth Rhodes, the one and only." He smiled too. A smile that showed his perfect, white teeth. Hints of dimples on his cheeks.
We shook hands. It was really big compared to my petite ones and rather callused. He had a firm, strong grip on mine yet not strong enough to hurt me. "Sorry my name isn't as fancy as yours." Again that laugh.
"Nice to finally meet you."
"You too." We let go of each other and, despite not admitting it back then, I found myself missing his touch.
I took one last long drag before flicking my cigarette.
Another silence –shorter than the previous– took place. It was broken again by him.
"Well…I'm heading back. You coming?" he said getting up and looking down at me.
"Yeah," I said, also standing up and following him back to Jackie's house.
Now, do know I do not condone smoking. However, later on, I'd thank God –or what ever supernatural and almighty, mystical force is out there– that John and I did.
It was probably around 1:15 that I decided to exit my best friend's home –in which a party was taking place– and relax on said bench while smoking a cigarette.
While inside, I could feel the beat of the music vibrating in my chest and, when I stepped outside, –naively hoping to enjoy the silence of the night– my ears felt clogged and I could hear a constant beep tormenting my eardrum and the sound of muffled music coming from the building I had recently left.
Anyway, I'd just lit the cancer stick when I saw him making his way out of the house, looking around –searching for someone with a packet full of cancer, no doubt– and, finally, spotting me.
He walked towards my lonely self with his hands in his pockets and a small smile playing on his lips. It was nice, it was almost like a nervous smile, like he knew there was a possibility of me denying him what he wanted.
With my eyes I followed his every move –while taking a drag and exhaling smoke– until he finally stopped right in front of me.
"Liz, right?" That was also nice; he didn't go straight to the point and he remembered my name.
"Yeah." His smile grew slightly –as if knowing he had done the right move– and he nodded his head towards me with his eyes set on the object between my right index and middle fingers.
"Mind if I bum one?" I looked at the cigarette I was holding and nodded, reaching towards him the recently opened pack of American Spirit. I watched him as he took one of the small rolls of tobacco and placed it between his thin lips while I searched for the lighter in one of the pockets of my jacket.
When I found it, I leaned forwards and he bent down as a small flame erupted from the lighter. He didn't go back to his original position until the tip of the cigarette had the orange glow of fire. His eyes were closed as he took a puff and, as a messy cloud of smoke left his mouth, he sat down next to me. "Thanks."
I smiled and let a small laugh escape my lips. His head turned to look at me, confusion written across his face.
"The lead singer of The Maine smoking…what would your fans say if they saw you?" he laughed. It was a very pleasant, sweet laugh. Slow. Like he wanted you to take it in.
"What they don't know won't hurt 'em."
I nodded –still smiling– and, with that said, a long silence took place between us. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. It seemed…right.
The music was still blasting at Jackie's and a cricket or two could be heard around us –in an almost comical way– and, if I concentrated enough, I could actually hear the sound of him breathing in the smoke and the sound of the flames consuming the tobacco.
A couple of times, I turned to look at him from the corner of my eye. He was one of those guys that looked pretty attractive while smoking. Now, don't get me wrong; I do not approve of people smoking –it's a horrible, horrible habit– but his lips, his eyes…his whole faced relaxed as he took in the nicotine. I wondered if there was something healthier that could make him look like that.
After a couple of minutes he threw the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his boot. I still had about two drags left.
He turned to look at me.
"So…I don't think we've been properly introduced."
"Not really."
Ah, yes.
His face was not unfamiliar; we had gone to the same high school after all. However, being a year younger than him simply didn't give us the opportunity to meet.
Yet, we knew each others' name, we had a pretty good idea of where each other lived and he knew the people I hung out with and vice versa. We even had friends in common but, somehow, an introduction never took place.
Also, living in Tempe and not knowing the local heroes (a.k.a. The Maine [a.k.a. him]) was rather difficult.
"John Cornelius O'Callaghan the Fifth," he said extending his right hand at me. I smiled.
"Elizabeth Rhodes, the one and only." He smiled too. A smile that showed his perfect, white teeth. Hints of dimples on his cheeks.
We shook hands. It was really big compared to my petite ones and rather callused. He had a firm, strong grip on mine yet not strong enough to hurt me. "Sorry my name isn't as fancy as yours." Again that laugh.
"Nice to finally meet you."
"You too." We let go of each other and, despite not admitting it back then, I found myself missing his touch.
I took one last long drag before flicking my cigarette.
Another silence –shorter than the previous– took place. It was broken again by him.
"Well…I'm heading back. You coming?" he said getting up and looking down at me.
"Yeah," I said, also standing up and following him back to Jackie's house.
Now, do know I do not condone smoking. However, later on, I'd thank God –or what ever supernatural and almighty, mystical force is out there– that John and I did.
♠ ♠ ♠
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