Oh

I didn’t walk to your house – I ran. Feet pounding on the sidewalk and my breath loud in my ears. I barely remembered to lock the front door and slip on shoes. All I could think was, you’re home. It continued to pound at my skull, merciless. I could barely believe it. It seemed too real, too tangible to actually be happening – like those times where life is speeding up and when you blink you don’t remember a thing. This was the former, and I knew that the latter was going to happen soon.

Your neighbours had moved out long ago, a new couple lived there. I had laughed quietly to myself when I saw them moving in and pictured your reaction. You wouldn’t have approved – they were the stereotypical two point five picket fence family, minus the picket fence and one point five kids. Instead they had a small dog – one of those breeds that bark their heads off and drive people insane. You would never have approved.

To be honest, I don’t think they would have approved of you either. At least, not back then.

I stopped running when I got to your street – I walked. Five years and I was going to arrive on your doorstep sweating and out of breath? It wouldn’t be the best impression. I was also scared of seeing you again – what if you had changed too much? What if you weren’t even a semblance of the Jenna that had left me?

“Get it together.” I muttered to myself, opening your gate and trying fruitlessly to find the pavement under the weeds. Nobody had kept your house in a very nice shape. It was overrun and overgrown and it looked like it was over two hundred years old when in reality it was only reaching thirty at best.

I knocked on the door and received no answer. I pulled the letter out of my pocket to check that it had been you that had contacted. I hadn’t dreamt it up in a fit of longing. But I held the proof, solid proof, in my hands that you had thought about me enough to care – enough to tell me that you were back. Those two mailed words were as real as day, unlike the times when I woke tossing and turning with echoes of you kissing my brain, making me believe that you were a few blocks away. I would call you, only to hear the all too familiar series of beeps and the automated female voice say,

“I’m sorry, the number you have called is no longer in service.”

And I would shout all of the reasons for you leaving to air empty of you and try, just try and understand. Why did you leave me, Jenna?

Running my hand through my hair, messing it up even more, I headed towards town. I would want to get away from this dump too, and that would be my first choice of destination.

I saw you on the corner, waiting for the pedestrian lights to turn green. You were just as I remembered. On the shorter side, with regrowth peeking through your bottle blonde hair. I wondered if you were still as spiteful but I shook it from my mind – if you were spiteful you never would have told me you were home.

I sped up, trying to reach you before the running man turned green. I opened my mouth to call your name – but what if you didn’t remember me? What if you treated me like a stranger? With the contempt I probably deserve?

What if I tapped you on the shoulder, and said your name, and you didn’t recognise me. You’d think I was nuts, and tell me to go away. You’d turn, your gossamer hair flying out behind you in the wind accompanied by the rain and you’d leave me, again. I wouldn’t be sheltered by your umbrella from the elements and water would hit my face, stinging my skin. They’d pierce me like daggers. There’s a reason there’s no such thing as “daymares”. What situations could be described as them is usually called “reality”.

I heard the sped up ticking of the lights and everyone started moving forward. I hurried closer, trying to keep an eye on you. As soon as we were across the road the crowd dispersed, all headed in their own direction.

“Jenna!” I cringed as soon as your name left my mouth. You turned around and spotted me, coming to a standstill.

“Do I know you?” Your eyes flickered with the ghost of remembering, widening as you took me in. I came a bit closer and a few people jostled past us, grumbling to themselves. “Alex,” my name was almost indistinguishable you said it so fast. “It’s actually you. Oh my god, Alex!” You lurched forward, an infectious smile stretching its way over your features. Your arms were ready to embrace me but you stopped yourself, catching your balance at the last possible second. You bit the inside of your cheek, your eyes glancing downward.

“It’s nice to see you too, Jenn.” I reached out and crushed you to my chest, swaying slightly. I inhaled your scent – you no longer smelled like mixed berries or your ‘confidence’ deodorant. You smelled like rockmelon instead; it was an incredibly sweet, almost cloying scent.

Now that the reunion was over, we stood awkwardly next to each other. You wear wearing wedges which boosted your height – we were almost eye to eye now. At a lack of anything to say, I gestured towards your hair.

“Is there a reason it’s half and half?”

You lifted a bag in answer. “I’ve got green hair dye and bleach in here. I’m doing it later tonight.” I nodded, glancing towards a café to our left.

“Coffee?” I was at a loss for words and I didn’t know that things would be so awkward and strained between us. You bit the inside of your cheek again and shifted your weight to your left leg.

“Sure, but before we go, and I know I don’t deserve this, but would you like to start over? Clean slate, past is in the past, that sort of thing?”

I pondered on your words for a while, trying to come to a rational decision. One that my emotions wouldn’t play a part in. But we both knew I became too emotionally invested and followed my heart all too often, regardless of the results. “Alex.” I stuck my hand out for you to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi, I’m Jenna.” You took my hand and tilted your head, smiling widely.

“How about that coffee?”

We entered the store and we purchased two plain coffees, both with milk, and a cinnamon scroll to share. You dumped two of the packets of sugar in yours and stirred it idly with your pinky as we started to talk. We didn’t talk about our past. Not right then anyway. We told each other all about ourselves, like we were strangers – because in reality we are. I know nothing of the Jenna now, and I’m looking forward to meeting her in her entirety.