Hell Above

The first time he met her, it was raining. He was sitting on the cold metal bleachers at the old soccer field with his hood pulled up over his hair, curled at the ends from the wet air surrounding him. He liked to go there to think, although not about anything in particular; just anything that happened to pop into his head at the time. Other than the fact that it was summer, which meant freedom for a whole three months, the season hadn’t turned out to be anything great, and as it ended the air had become more stifling, he could practically feel autumn creeping into his bones.

He was thinking about the forthcoming return to school, and how he was dreading starting his senior year. When he looked up from where the soles of his beat up Vans rested lightly on the seat in front of the one he had taken up, halfway up the stack of bleachers, he saw her petite figure walking through the drizzle.

It was an odd sight. She wasn’t wearing anything other than a slim fit tee shirt with three quarter sleeves and a pair of cutoff shorts. There was a pair of worn out Vans slip-ons clutched in one of her hands with socks dangling out of them, and her other hand was shoved in her pocket. The raindrops falling from the sky collected on her short charcoal hair, and trailed down her sun kissed skin. Even from a distance, he could see a small smile playing at the edges of her soft pink lips. He wondered what she was doing, walking barefoot through a field that hadn’t been used for years, what she was doing there at all. Nobody used the field for anything anymore; it was just another empty lot, patched brown from years of wear and neglect. And you know what she did while he was asking himself those questions? She sat down. Right next to him. It was a little too close, for complete strangers anyway.

“Marie.” She introduced herself. He looked over to her, glancing from her bonny face, to the dainty hand she had offered him.

“Vic.” He took her hand in his gently, but firmly. The two acquaintances sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, and with each passing moment Vic got more and more fidgety. “Why are you talking to me?” The words spilled from his mouth like water. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude, it was just, unexpected.” She only smiled at him, a soft curve of the lips, before coming out with the most curious answer he could have imagined.

“You looked lonely.”

Marie was unlike anyone Vic had ever met. She was the kind of person that got noticed, but not because she tried to be. She had quirks, like the fact that she carried her shoes everywhere instead of wearing them. She never thought before she said anything, she said it took away from authentic feelings, and she made him feel things he couldn’t put a name to; he wasn’t sure what to make of it; of her.

A week after the first time he met her, he went back to the field. It was a nice, sunny day in southern California, like most days. There were kids playing in the streets, and the grass was wet, from sprinklers or dew he couldn’t be sure. And there she sat, like every other time he had come to the field after that first day. She wasn’t wearing shoes, but they sat neatly next to her on the rusted metal bench. There was a red jar sitting next to her, and a pad of paper balanced on her knee. He wondered what she was writing.

He sat a few seats down from her. She looked deep in thought, concentrated on her pencil as it moved back and forth across the paper and he didn’t want to disturb her. He knew she would notice him though; she wasn’t the kind of person who got lost in her thoughts, because she only ever concentrated on one thing at a time. It was kind of contradictory, and he hadn’t really understand what she meant by it when she explained it to him, he wasn’t sure if he ever would, and he was okay with that.

“What’s on your mind?” Apparently he was the kind of person to get lost in his thoughts; because he hadn’t noticed she had stopped her writing, focusing her attention on him instead.

“You.” He answered truthfully. He knew she wouldn’t take it out of context.

“Me?” Marie smiled, “what about me?”

“You confuse me.”

“How so?” she asked, popping a cherry from the red jar into her mouth, stem and all, before returning to her notepad.

“I don’t know how I feel around you. You said that you came over to me that day because I looked lonely, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone than when I’m with you, but at the same time I feel held up. I don’t get it.”

“What a lovely surprise to finally discover how unlonely being alone can be.” She always seemed to know what to say. “Ellen Burstyn said that. She’s my dad’s favorite actress.” In the short amount of time he had known Marie, she had never once mentioned her family, although she had asked about his on a few occasions.

“Being or feeling alone is one of the saddest places to be, and there’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be alone. Humans are creatures of community, and they need each other for companionship.” She closed her notepad and put it in the bag he had failed to notice she had brought with her. “Hold your hand out.” He did what she asked, and was surprised when she took the cherry stem out of her mouth, only to place it in the palm of his hand. He looked at it for a minute, confused as to why she would give him a cherry stem. It was tied in a knot at the center, but there were no teeth marks on it. He hadn’t ever met someone who had been able to tie a cherry stem with their tongue before, and he was momentarily impressed before the confusion came back. He looked up to ask her about it, but she was already gone.

He didn’t see her for a week after that. The time was spent pondering over what she meant by it. It could have meant anything, and he didn’t want to make any assumptions, but he was dying to know why Marie had given him the cherry stem.

The next time Vic sees her, he’s sitting on the field in the same spot as usual. It’s just another hot, sunny day in southern California and he was debating whether or not he wanted to go to the beach with a few friends, and that’s when he sees her. She’s walking towards him much like the first time they met, one hand holding onto a pair of shoes and the other tucked in her front pocket. The shorts she’s wearing are short, but not so short they show everything, and they accentuate her long legs and her shirt clings in all the right places. He wonders how he never noticed her before.

She comes straight over to him and sits down, but never once looks at him. Her gaze is focused forwards, at the busy street that lined the front side of the lot and a painful silence surrounded the two. Vic became fidgety; bouncing his leg up and down, tapping his fingers on his knee, anything to calm his nerves. He hadn’t felt like this since the third grade, when he had been dared to kiss Allison Reyes on the mouth.

“So.”

“You seem nervous.” They said at the same time, words overlapping, and laughed. Vic pulled the cherry stem out of his pocket, exposing it in his open palm.

“What did you mean by it?”

“What did you want me to mean by it?” He should have expected answer like that, coming from her, but it still managed to leave him speechless. He didn’t know how to answer that, mainly because he had spent so much time thinking about what she meant by it that he hadn’t taken the time to think about what he wanted it to mean. So instead of using words, he acted; leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. It was sweet and innocent, only lasting for a few moments, but long enough it could be considered anything but friendly.

When he pulled away, Marie was wearing a small smile, and it made him smile.