A New Beginning

Strawberry ringlets are what fill his vision the second he turns down the next aisle, pushing his shopping cart leisurely forwards as he ambles unhurriedly behind it. His mind, ever the one for random thoughts, reminisces for a second of just how familiar that vivid colour seems, of someone he remembers that’d had the same full head of springy curls – in that same memorable style and colour. 

He expects the fond memory to fade in the passing seconds, like being in someone’s proximity and inhaling the scent of some pleasing floral or fruity fragrance sprayed liberally over their person, with the intensity waning the moment he starts to move away. 

She turns her head, the tightly coiled strands bouncing with the slight movement, and the fleeting recollection solidifies into a pronounced thought, as his mind rapidly processes itself through a number of emotions.

It’s surprise that comes first: Oh my god, it is her. Not someone who looks like her; it actually is her. Then surprise’s close second, the similar emotion of shock follows: How is she even here? What is she doing here? Here, of all places? Then the all too familiar emotion of anxiety bleeds in and settles over his bones, like sticky sludge coating his insides, and making it suddenly difficult to breathe normally. It’s the exact brand of nervousness he’d experienced then and is now unpleasantly reliving. Of all the reactions, it’s the last his body feels most potently and holds him captive to, and he is immediately seized by the bizarre urge to get away, hide from sight. Don’t let her see you. 

He tries to drag the cart backwards as inconspicuously as he can manage. Unfortunately, the suddenly squeaky wheel is having none of it, upping the intensity of its screech in protest as he frantically attempts to yank it in the other direction. He exerts one last effort to move the cart but it acts like it’d been locked into place. He can see her head turning to face him, her attention predictably alerted by the noise. He feels his heart leap in his throat, and letting go of the half-full cart’s handle, he abandons the futile attempt, and turns around and walks away. Retreats with calm measured steps at odds with his erratic breathing, his feet carrying him to the front of the store, past the automatic sliding doors, and into outside of freedom and fresh air. 

…

“Did you know Cindy’s back in town?” he asks, the minute he’s through the doorway. His brother sitting on the threadbare couch – the only real piece of furniture to sit down on in the tiny living room of his apartment – looks over his shoulder, his gaze immediately dropping down to Jonah’s empty hands.

“Wait, where are the groceries? Did you leave them in the car?” 

Jonah steps fully into the room, and locks the door, sliding the bolt into place. “I didn’t buy...I’ll get them tomorrow.”

“Then where did you…I thought you took my car so you could go to the store? You go someplace else instead?”

“Yes, I mean no. I didn’t go anywhere else. But yeah, I did go to the grocery store.”

His brother fixes him with a stupefied look. “Then why…”

Jonah interrupts, impatience boiling over. “Did you hear what I first asked? I said, did you know Cindy’s back in town?”

“Cindy? What? Who’s Cindy?” his brother asks, looking even more confused.

“Cindy,” he enunciates, before realizing he hasn’t conveyed enough information to be specific. “Cindy from high school. Do you remember? Head cheerleader? She was in your year? Cindy Williams?”

“Cindy, Cindy,” his brother mutters, his face scrunched up in the confusion of trying to recall some distant memory. “Oh, Cindy!” he finally exclaims, his features lighting up with the triumph of a successful recollection. “Yeah, I remember her. Oh, that was kind of long ago – three years ago since graduation.” He pauses. “Wait, why are we talking bout her?”

“I saw her. At the grocery store.”

“Wait, like working there or just buying stuff?”

“I’m not sure; I didn’t see if she was wearing a uniform or not.”

“Probably working there,” his brother assumes, getting up from the couch and stretching out his limbs. “She never was quite the brainiac, was she?”

“Hey, don’t say that.”

“What? I’m just stating facts. She got held back a year, didn’t she? That is how she ended up in your grade for your senior year. On account of her being stupid and all.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Jonah cuts in, his voice coming out more sharply than intended. His brother, ever the perceptive one, doesn’t miss the terseness of his tone and stares at him in befuddlement for a second, before a knowing smile spreads sunnily across his face. It’s a mischievous expression and Jonah dreads the mocking that is to come.

“Don’t tell me,” his brother starts, already sniggering. “Don’t tell me that even after all this time, you still have a crush on Cindy. Cause that would be just plain pathetic. Even for you.” 

Jonah sighs, and wonders why he’d thought it wise to confide in his brother about his high school crush at the time. “I don’t have…I was just overwhelmed seeing her so unexpectedly.”

“Overwhelmed? More like scared. Scared enough to turn tail and run all the way back home.”

“I wasn’t scared.”

“Oh, my goodness, I can’t believe you still have a crush on Pugface!”

Jonah takes a deep breath to calm himself, and to remind himself to not let the teasing get to him. “Look, first of all, don’t call her that. It’s a really nasty nickname, and it never really stuck anyway,” he begins. “And second of all, it’s such a harmful stereotype to assume that just because someone isn’t academically inclined, their career choices are automatically limited to things like working in retail sales. And even speaking of that, it’s high time we abandoned the stigma towards menial work. These people work very hard too, with long hours and little pay, and they hardly need to be looked down on for their career choices. And most time it’s not even a choice per se, it’s just a way to keep themselves afloat, living off minimum wage…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” his brother cuts in loudly, clapping his hands for good measure. The smacking sound works as desired, immediately snapping Jonah out of his monologue, and rendering him silent. “Don’t get preachy with me, alright? I was just making a joke. I don’t need your sociology inspired thesis on the job market. Okay? Save your lecture for when you get back to college, cause that’s the only place you’ll find an audience who cares. Now shoo,” he dismisses, waving his hand in a propelling motion in front of him, as if to ward away the unwanted speech from his vicinity. “And don’t worry about getting the groceries. I’ll go get them myself tomorrow. Imagine being so shy of some girl, you abandon your shopping and run away.”

Feeling his cheeks burn in shame and embarrassment, Jonah slinks off to his room and shuts the door, feeling chastised for some reason. Contrary to current evidence, breaking into impromptu speeches was not some regular pastime of his, but just something that happened occasionally. At times, he couldn’t stop his mouth from running off once his mind felt passionate enough about a subject to break into a rant. It was basically an uncontrollable unfortunate habit at this point, but overlookable enough once one took into account the overall awkwardness of his character.

He tumbles himself down onto his sheets. The hours pass, the sky darkens to an inky black, and the night quietens to a deathly silence that’s almost eerie. Feeling hungry, Jonah puts down his phone and shuffles to the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips, doublechecks the lock on the door and heads back to his room. As he munches on a handful, his thoughts turn to earlier, settling on memories of a person who’d never really left his head, whose effect on him hadn’t been dimmed in the slightest by time or distance. He couldn’t lie to himself; the proof of that was in his reaction upon seeing her.

And yet he didn’t even know her all that well. Cindy Williams had been the embodiment of whichever manner of idiom could be used to describe a person who’d had things going well – had the admiration of her peers and seemingly, the favour of her teachers also – until everything quite suddenly and spectacularly imploded in her face. 

She’d been in the same year as his brother before she’d been downgraded to the year below, held back from graduating. It’d started with her being kicked off the cheerleading squad, and the rumors following that had not been at all subtle and additionally wildly imaginative. Eventually, virtually everyone had somehow become privy to the true reason, that her GPA was so abysmally low, that her extracurriculars had had to be terminated, and consequently, the cheerleading coach had been forced to kick her off the squad. Gone was her title and ergo, her prestige. It shouldn’t have been such a huge deal; similar ultimatums had been given to certain jocks who’d been likewise suspended from play until they too could raise their grades to a passable level, in time for graduation. Some had been able to, she had not.

He’d had a front row seat into watching her gradually fold in on herself; he had ended up sharing most of her classes with her, since she’d been taking virtually all in a last-ditch effort to boost her grades. She’d formerly been this bubbly and bright presence, at least from what he’d seen in the numerous pepe rallies organized by the school, and glimpses caught of her in the hallways. Perpetually smiling, and generating a general air of optimism. But this new her was more withdrawn, was stoic-faced, kept to herself – projected an entirely different character. And people had left her alone, not knowing her well enough or simply not caring enough to try to dig though her newfound aloofness and venture into a friendship.

he unpleasant nickname of Pugface had come much earlier than that, towards the end of her first senior year when things had started to go south for her. It’d been clear enough what the name had been based on: a referential insult to her distinctly upturned nose. Thankfully, the name hadn’t stuck, only lingered on for a few weeks before graduation had come round, and with the start of the new year, barely anyone had remembered it.

What he remembers most about Cindy though is sitting never too far away from her in classes, taking in her now quiet demeanour, and wishing he could say something to her. Obviously not something so powerfully inspiring enough to instantly bring back the once cheerful countenance she’d held instead of the expression of detachment she’d now maintained. But maybe at least something just enough to bring a momentary smile to her face, and remind her that there were still people in her corner.

And to his surprise, he had managed to successfully do so on one memorable occasion. It’d been an impromptu classwork in English class – the teacher had forced them all into groups, and they’d landed in the same circle. It’d been a discussion on some theme of a chapter of some literature he couldn’t recall. And as usual, his mind had gotten in its characteristic mood and he’d descended into a lengthy lecture. 

And once he’d drawn to a close, out of the mixture of the bored and exasperated faces regarding him, hers was the only that seemed genuinely attentive. And there was a smile on her face, whether in amusement at his blustering, or whether simply in interest at what he’d had to say, he didn’t know. But it was a smile, and it was good, and that was all that mattered. 

There wasn’t any sort of substantial interaction after that, aside from the odd passing glance and smile aimed his way when they chanced to make eye contact. And those moments were few and far between, but it all meant something to him. But he never summoned up the courage to pursue something more, and after graduation, she was gone, just as he was too.

Jonah tips the bag upside down and munches the last of the chips. Crumpling the wrapper, he throws it into the bin, and crawls back into bed.

…

“Man, oh man,” his brother crows as he steps into the living room, his arms laden down with grocery bags. “You are going to be ecstatic when you hear what I’ve done for you.” When he doesn’t react, his brother steps over and kicks him in the rm, making him drop the remote and hiss in annoyance. “Didn’t you hear what I said? I said I did something nice for you. You should at least act grateful.”

“What. What is this huge magnanimous selfless thing you’ve done for me that I should be worshipping you for?”

His brother pauses, and when he shoves him to prompt him, he blurts out proudly, “I got you a date with Cindy Williams.”

Jonah freezes, his mind short-circuiting. “What did you just say?”

His brother moves away, to the table, and starts unloading the groceries with a purposefully infuriating air of affected nonchalance. “Yeah, I saw her at the store. Turns out she is working there. I said hi, told her who I was. Didn’t really remember me, but we hugged, flirted a bit. Then I told her I had a little brother who had an everlasting crush on her through school. She laughed, gave me her number, told me to tell you to call her if you’d like.”

“Is this a joke?”

“No, I’m serious. Look, she even wrote it down on a paper and all. Here,” his brother offers, handing him a scrap of notebook paper. “You should call her. Cause if you don’t, I will,” his brother chuckles.

…

Jonah takes the scrap of paper to his room, holding it almost reverentially. The temptation to call has his hands itching, yet, the prospect of hearing her voice fills him with such nervousness that it has him wringing his hands. 

After some days of staring at the paper, he finally gives in, and before he can talk himself out of it, with a million reasons not to do so, he enters the number into his phone and dials it. A part of him hopes she doesn’t pick up, so at least he can pat himself on the back that he’d made an effort.

She picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

Hearing her voice dazes him for a moment, and he’s silent, only answering when she prompts again for a response with another slightly impatient, “Hello?”

“H-hi,” he manages to stutter out. “This is Jonah Byers?”

“Jonah Byers. Who’s that?”

She doesn’t remember your name. That’s all right, it’s been a couple of years after all. “Jonah Byers from Madison High? My brother gave me your number, spoke with you at the grocery store about a week ago?”

There’s a pause, then, “Oh my goodness, oh I remember that! I thought he was just saying that as some sort of ploy to get my number. Like making up some fictional brother?”

“No, no, I’m very real. In fact, we got kinda acquainted senior year of high school. The year you,” he cringes, “took again.”

“Oh, I basically remember nothing of that,” is the breezy reply. “And still don’t remember you, I’m afraid. Blocked that year out. Bad memories and all.”

There’s a sudden irrational hurt that he forces himself to push past. Taking a deep breath, he dives in. “Look, I was planning to ask you out for coffee, but I’d completely understand if you wanna take a rain check or you’re not interested or…whatever. I mean like, no pressure at all.”

“Oh, I’d love to go for a coffee.”

“Great,” he replies, surprised with the quickness of her reply and openness in her tone. “This Saturday okay?”

“Sure. Meet me at Starbucks. Early afternoon? Only cause I have plans in the evening, and I’m busy on Sunday too.”

“No, the time’s perfect,” Jonah’s quick to assure. “See you then.”

…

“Where’re you going?” He’s already halfway out the door when his brother’s query stops him in his tracks. He looks back. “On a date,” he replies. 

“Oh, you called her. Good for you.” His brother’s tone sounds genuine, and he smiles tentatively. “Thanks,” he mutters bashfully.

“But just one thing.”

Jonah feels the mile start to slip off. “What.”

“Look, man. I’m happy for you and all. I mean it’s about time, you haven’t been on a date in quite some time. But you got to remember, Cindy isn’t some magic unicorn or something. She’s just a girl. I know you’ve been carrying a torch for her since like forever, but if you go into that date trying too hard, o treating her like some magical being just cause you’ve had a crush on her for so long, you’ll turn her off. You’ll reek of desperation, and girls don’t like that. Nobody likes that.”

Jonah takes a moment to process the words, eventually realizing the advice as genuine and helpful. “Thanks bro.”

…

At the coffee shop, he barely has to wait for more than a couple of minutes before she arrives. She’s just as he remembers: tall and slim, strawberry curls bobbing almost hypnotically. He waves her over, they sit.

There’s no recognition in her eyes, not even the faintest trace of it. And Jonah realizes that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t remember him by name, or his appearance, or even his actions. That was all in the past. This is now. Getting to know each other in the present. 

“Lovely to meet you. I’m Jonah.”