Blurry

Tiny white dots of blur, hanging high up above him. He rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. The stars cleared. He saw the big dipper, Cleopatra, and the whole milky way. Clear as crystal. The stars were his favorite. They were always there for him, always by his side. Always willing to hear him out, and just listen, not criticizing or offering judgement. They always brought him a feeling of comfort and place. Well almost always. Unless he let his mind wander to the fact that some of those beautiful stars were dead. He knew that some of them were just left over light, still trying to make their way back down to earth. Still there but not really alive. Just a left over footprint. Like him. 

He checked his watch. Opps. 10:30. He was going to be late. He rolled over once, and let himself slide to the ground. The top of the van was the best place to think, even if the dog couldn't get up on top. He stood up, and walked down the road to the house, kicking gravel as he went. That was another good way to think. Gravel bounced well off the asphalt, and keeping on the road was half the point. The repetitive motion made it easy to get lost in thought. And as he reached the house, he realized he had some things to add to his list of them.

He thought so much he’d thought to make a list. The list was for things he deemed important enough to think about more than once. His uncle had once taught him this, back when his brain was a jumbled mess. Lists were your friends. They were orderly, and kept track of things that he was afraid he’d forget. That was his least favorite list, his lists of fears. He disliked it so much he’d made a list of ways to forget the list. That list was mental though. Being afraid made him feel weak. And he wasn't weak. Except on top of the van. Maybe that's why he let The List of Things not to do fall through. Because it happened on the van.

As he left the house his mom yelled out the door something about dinner, he really didn't remember. He’d probably just eat at the grill. They always had hot food and he knew it helped his mom out, as she had to feed him less. He’d always felt guilty about the amount of food he ate, especially since his mom had taken up her third job at the gas station. He walked into the door, heard the familiar sound of the bell above, and let out a deep breath. He put on his apron and started flipping burgers. Sizzle. Pop. Ding. The familiar sounds helped him ease into a state of comfort, an unusual feeling for him. 

The bell above the door rang. He looked up out of habit, and she stepped in. He felt the energy in the room change, the quietness filled him up. The whole room felt it too. She sat down at the counter, and the room slowly started to fill back up with sound and color. But not him. He kept his eyes on her. She sat and looked around, until she noticed him. He looked down. When he looked back up, she was gone. 

On the way home that night, he was filled with thoughts he’d never added to a list. Who cared about a list. She didn't fit on a list. After she left there were whispers of who she was. A biker from out of town. That would explain the leather jacket. The daughter of the richest man in town. That would explain the shoes. Someone even said she was a mermaid who had risen from the sea. That was a long shot. There weren't any seas around. Whoever she was, her presence had filled him with a sense of uneasiness. But it was a good uneasiness. It made him want to leave burgers and vans and dogs behind, and drive to a far away place. Maybe even the sea.

His sense of uneasiness came from abandonment the doctors said. They said it was from having an uncertain life, with uncertain family, and no real security. He thought it came from his mom eating cereal for dinner three nights in a row. It came from his dog not being there when he came home. It came from people being upset about their orders at the grill. The big picture never bothered him. How could he be upset about a father he’d never even met. About a home he’d never lived in. About a life he’d never lived. They said that was the problem. But they say a lot of things. 

Night shift at the grill. Again. He’d walked there again, kicked more gravel, thought more thoughts. Flipped more burgers. The bell rings. He looks up, and it’s her. Of course it is. This time she looked him dead in the soul. When the waitress came over, she motioned at him. She wanted to talk to him. All of those feelings of uneasiness flooded back. And he dove right in. Picked a foot up. Set it down. Picked a foot up. Set it down. He stood there in front of her, waiting for her to say something. She just threw her head back and laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh. It was simply an I love life laugh. And at that moment, he wanted to love life more than anything in the world. 

They drove. She had a yellow car, sleek and trim looking. Not a motorcycle. Not a mermaid. They laughed. They laughed so hard. Tears rolled down his cheeks, but he welcomed them. He loved them. They were tears. They drove to a small town in the deep woods. It was on the coast and it all smelled like the sea. The dark green trees painted the sky with color as the sun set on the bay. A woman danced, while a man juggled, and a large fire raged. They walked and listened, her hand in his. The music filled his ears, her happiness filled his heart. And he didn't even kick the gravel.

He laid on the van roof. She laid on the van roof. Together, they laid there. He rested his hand in hers, and she squeezed it. They counted stars, imagining one day they’d be there in the heavens with them, hanging high above the world in mystery. 

“I love you”, he whispered into her ear. 

She giggled. 

“Silly you,” she replied. “I don't even know what love is, I’m just a girl.”

She rolled off the van roof, and landed on her feet. As she walked away, he knew he should have felt heart broken. And he did. Except that feeling of his heart breaking filled him up. It consumed his mind, because it was a feeling. He hadn't felt one like this for a long time. He rolled back over, stared back up, and let his glasses fall off. The stars returned to their blurry dot state, as he lay there and mentally deleted every list.