Scars: Part One: Dreams (Chapter One)

How can love exist between two beings that agree that love is something that they cannot have for each other? At least not in a way that exceeds the bonds of friendship. How can two beings, one that loves another, love each other? Would this love then become virtually forbidden?1

These thoughts culminate and foam over the top of my skull, out from beneath my eyelids and manifest themselves into three tiny droplets that trickle down my cheeks and into my mouth, humiliating my parched tongue. 2

This pool I lay in is one of deep depression, a well whose top is so high up that I cannot see it, nor the light. How will I ever get out of this pit? It seems so hopeless to even try. These are the thoughts endlessly streaming and pulsing in my brain like a graceful river which small pink fish jump out of every so often.3

I lay on my bed and my watery, hazel eyes can hardly see... Not just because of my sorrow, but also because my long, dirty blonde hair is draped front of me like Cousin It from the Adam's Family or a hand-woven quilt that a scared child held over their heads in the dark. My pillow is now consumed by my moistness. I bury my face in it, blocking out the blurry light and attempting to exhale... After much strain I let out a terribly saddening sigh like the last breath of a great Egyptian pharaoh echoing throughout his tomb. Then, with another exhausting effort, I inhale, all the while wondering why I should bother.4

I lay in my bed for an immeasurable amount of time...possibly hours, somehow pitying myself and questioning what my glum future could have in store for me after this. After my life had just essentially taken a shit on me.5

I knew, though, that I couldn't stay wallowing in my own body grease, sweat, and tears forever (not that I cared if I did) and finally decided to move a limb. My leg twitched with life and slowly, dreadfully, hovered over my bedside, eventually planting itself insecurely on the floor. Its companion soon followed in its footsteps and within a short while I am trudging down my stairs to embrace the darkness that is the night.6

I trudge across the dirty dining room, collecting sand and grime on the balls of my bare feet and kick a crumpled up napkin out of my way. I make my way towards the computer, and plop myself down in the black leather seat as if I were an insignificant scoop of mashed potatoes shoved out of the way to make room for the roast beef on the side of an ordinary dinner plate.7

I must concede that as I reached down to hit the power button, I had no clue what I was doing. I think I was on the computer strictly out of habit, as if my consciousness had rapidly decayed and all that remained were subconscious actions and primordial instincts.8

But as the baby-blue pixels floated into my vision, I started to reminisce about the events of the day. This day had possibly been the worst day of my puny sixteen-year-old life. I was told in an unintentionally hateful, yet heavenly voice that I could never be with her... The first girl I had ever loved and the last girl I will ever love in my life.9

I met her through my brother, John, who was twenty four. They were five years apart (she was turning twenty in November,) but they still dated. They still drank beer, got wasted, and fucked on the weekends.10

But why should I care? I thought to myself, staring at the computer screen. (We both had one thing in common, the screen and I , and that was a blank, blue expression.) Why should I care that my brother's vile stench poisoned her veins every time they exchanged bodily fluids?11

Because I loved her, that's why. I still do. I always will. And I will always hate my brother. My brother had fucked up enough on his own without without screwing both my life and Naomi's lives up as well.12

He walks with a stride like he is a master of reality, a king of pimps, or even, God forbid, a homosexual accountant. There was also a certain air about him, or at least something in the air around him that made him stand out. A certain static. But not the good stuff. The stuff that makes you want to bash his skull in with an aluminum bat for even un-willingly thinking about touching that gorgeous angel again.13

The first time I saw her, I cried. It was many months ago, in June, actually, at a family barbecue, just outside my house. My brother finally brought her over to meet my parents, who were inside arguing about the preparation of the devilled eggs. I remember those beautiful pools of life staring at me beneath those full, illustrious lashes. The look that she gave me made my chest a bog of quicksand with my heart sinking deeper in it with every breath, deeper into my tar-pit stomach.14

I couldn't breathe right and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. There she stood in my driveway, just looking at me, smiling, and all I could do was gape at her, observing her beauty and caressing her curves with my eyes. 15

Suddenly, the bass tone of my older brother's senseless babbling floated to my ears. How could he just stand there, talking when he possessed the single most amazing artifact in the world? I just didn't understand it... and it angered me.16

Through my anger, though, I knew I had to say something, no matter how ridiculous it was, or I would never forgive myself. My jaw dropped open and I lifted my tongue up to mutter a simple greeting. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, as if it were a prison, and all those creatures wanted to do was escape. The third best thing of my life happened next. I didn't even have to say anything to her.17

As her lips moved, a perfect motion, sticky saliva slowly dissipated between those two red half-moons. My tongue suddenly decided to function, and I licked my own chapped lips longingly. I imagined my head in front of hers, my lips set on her lips, breathing in her pure air.18

Then, she spoke. My right hand migrated to my ear at the sound of her voice. I looked up, too, up into the heavens to look for the choir of cherubim and seraphim amongst the puffy, white clouds. None were there, so I yanked my head back to Earth and gawked.19

"Hello," the angel said.20

In all the while I've been alive, I've never heard such a perfectly pronounced word. Hello. Two syllables, ordinary when spoken by ordinary men, but spectacular when sang to me in Naomi's orgasmic tune.21

I am telling you this because at that moment in my life, the third best moment ever to happen to me, time froze. Sure, people kept talking amongst themselves and continued sipping the punch and pretending they liked it, but I honestly believe that at that very instant, and for several seconds (which seemed like endless minutes) afterwards, I ceased to age. I was in a state of paralysis, a vacuum of time that only existed between my eyes and Naomi's. And I was sucked in.22

"Hell-LO," she repeated, acting as my alarm-clock of reality.23

"...Hey," I said, ripping my gaze away and glancing towards the gravel.24

"What's your name?"25

"Leh... Uh... L- Lemmy," I stammered.26

"Hi, Lemmy, I'm Naomi."27

I found my eyes wandering towards her voluptuous breasts and whispered "Yeah,"  but trailed off and didn't know if she heard me, I was so quiet.28

"Yes, that's me," I repeated, once again glancing upwards and clearing my throat first.29

"So you're John's little brother that I've heard so much about?"30

I caught a glimpse of her playful smirk, but I knew in my heart that John never talked about me to anyone, not even his frat brothers. ESPECIALLY not his frat brothers.31

"He, uh... He mentioned me?" I asked, knowing full well he didn't but drawing blanks at the moment as to what to say.32

"A little." She smiled. 33

"So... What brings you here?" I felt ridiculous when the words were finally, clumsily done exiting my mouth. 34

"You know..."  She said, tossing her head back in the direction of John. He was now talking with one hand in his khaki pants, to my Uncle Ricky, probably about the damned Patriots going to the Superbowl again.35

"John." I sighed.36

"Yeah," she said, staring off into space. "Can I use you guys' bathrooms? I'll only be a minute."37

"Sure, follow me," I replied, knowing that she knew where they were, but I just wanted to get away from the crowd so I could get a chance to talk to her. About what I didn't know.38

I worked my way through about five people, all of whom I didn't know, and all of whom, I noticed, were pudgy, to the screen door and opened it. I stepped to the side.39

"There you go," I proclaimed, pointing in the direction of the bathroom. I felt like a chauffeur standing there holding the screen door wide open for her.40

"Thanks," she said.41

When she entered the house, I followed her a little ways and stopped dead in my tracks, just so I could watch her walk. She was like a gazelle in that aspect. I took in every graceful stride she made, every muscle that moved in her shapely legs, buttocks, back and neck, all gleamed in my jealous eye.42

I turned from the sight, however, and fled to my room. There I turned off my light and lay in bed. Precariously, and with an ear tuned into every noise made downstairs and up, I unzipped my jeans, and pulled them down to my ankles.43

I had only known this girl for several minutes, known of her existence for about three days, and here I was in my bed during the middle of the day, rubbing one out to the after-image of her beauty etched in the recesses of my mind. I was, and still am, fucking pathetic. But even with this knowledge, the pleasure of imagining HER overwhelmed me and I continued to molest myself until I felt the warmth of myself on my hands. After I did that, I wiped my semen on my already white wall, pulled up my pants, and sat there weeping with the knowledge that I couldn't have her. I finally fell asleep in fetal position, sucking on my thumb, too, like the baby I really am.44

*          *          *45

That was the first time I met her. I didn't know she had told my brother what a "gentlemen" I was, and, like him, I didn't care. I didn't know that my parents, in their ceaseless squabbling, had somehow, in some odd way ( I didn't care to find out,) burnt the devilled eggs. I didn't know that Uncle Ricky spilled his Miller all over my Aunt Judy and that was the spark that ignited a bonfire of endless yelling matches and embarrassing "accidents" between the two that would eventually lead to their divorce three years in the future. 46

I didn't even care about any of this stuff. I only knew one thing. That was: All I cared about was Naomi and my undying love for her.47

I shook my head, trying to free myself of these memories. I once again found myself staring at my computer screen, one hand on the mouse and the other down my boxers.48