The Flip Side

It was my regular Friday routine: I would come home from school, take my glsses of to wipe my tears, then erupted into a smile as my fifteen-year-old dog Max would jump up and try to knock me over while carrying his leash. No matter how crappy my day was, or how many new inventive ways my friends found to insult me, he was always there to cheer me up every single time I cried. He was my birthday present the year I turned twelve. When he was given to us, he was a nine year old rescue. Now, he was no more, and I was 18. And also going through one of the hardest years of my life. No longer in highschool, but in univeristy with the same jerks as the year before. If I said they hated me before, I lied, the absolutly despised me now. So when Max died, it was obviously really hard on me, because my parents were over two thousand miles away, my bestie had a modeling gig in San Framcisco and was therefore very far away, and I offically had no one. 

Today when I go home, I dropped my shopping bags on the floor in front of the door to my apartemant and grabbed my keys from my small backback. My blong hair was tied back in one of those popular mess but messy on purpose ponytails, and my eye makeup (your typical heavy eyeliner, no eyehsadow, conceler on the lids) was flawless, and I was wearing highwaisted push up acid washed skinny jeans. I had cute wire framed glasses and a cute white cropped tee shirt with beige lace on every seam. The same thing a nearly every other girl in my class, yet the still found a way to make fun of me, although I was cuter than most of them. I opened the door and walked through, before leaning over to drop my bags on the bottom shelf of an open air cabinet beside the door. My interior desinge skills were serious, if I do say so myself, but today, I had no time to apreciate it. Instead, I walked to the kitchen in bear feet and opened my cupboard to find a large coffe cup. I dumped the remaining contents of my chai into it, and walked over to the living room to set it on the coffee table. I flipped on the tv and turned on one of my newest favorite shows. Then, I closed the curtains and changed into sweat pants and a black lace bra, undid my hair and tied it up into a messy bun with a few random pieces framing my face. I pulled on an extra white sweater from my closet and sank onto the couch, watching the show as I tied my sneakers and snuck towards the door. I hit the pause button and walked out the door, locking it on my way. Then, I marched down the stairs despite the fact that my complex has an elevator, and because I wasn't paying attention, I slammed right into someone. My glasses flew off my face and I hit the wall. From the blurry picture I could see, it was a boy, roughly my age. And he looked like...

"BRIAN."... the most popular boy at my school. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. It's just- usually- people don't come down here-" He laughed and cut me off, while picking up my glasses and handing the bakc to me. 

"Yeah, I know, I haven't seen people this way, either. Don't worry. I think I slammed into you harder than you hit me!" I laughed with him. 

"Actually, I'm pretty sure you're right, because my hip has the same size dent as the wall..." We exploded with laughter, and he waved at me as he continued running up the stairs. Weird. That was the first time I had had a positive interaction with someone from my school. I pulled my phone out from my pocket and opened my Spotify, and opened my favorite playlist, "People suck - I prefer my dog". I pounded it as I walked from one side of Central Park to the other, and the paused it to stuff them in my pocket again as I opened the door to my favorite coffee shop. I waited in line and looked across their menu as the people in front of me decided what they wanted. Then, pretty soon, it was my turn. I noticed that the girl serving me was also in my class, one of the cooler girls that everyone looked up to but nobody wanted to be. Like, second class popularity, you know?

"Hey. Hi. Yeah, could I have a little more time? I want to look at all your new items." The cashier sighed the longest and loudest sigh I've ever heard.My eyebrows shot up my face as I scanned through what was left. Bearly six seconds later, when I asked for a dragon fruit slushie, she checked her nails and demanded, 

"MY God, could you have taken any longer?" Quick as the New York wind, I replied,

"I'm sorry, I asked for a slushie, not a glass of your opinion." The girl beside me cracked up. She was twenty something, maybe twenty seven, with a small todler balanced on her hip. Her hair was messy, as was the girls, and she hadn't put on any makeup, and was still in sweat pants and a hoodie. I mean, I'm not judging, I was practically wearing a skimpier version of that. She wiped her eyes and looked at me, giving a sad smile. 

"That made my day, sweetie, thank you." I smiled back. 

"I wasn't trying to make anyone's day, but I'm glad I could help." For the first time in my life, I used my people skills and examined the woman. She was carrying a baby girl, looked extremly depressed and wasn't wearing a ring. A young divorcee after birth, I'm assuming. took out my phone and asked for her number. "I babysit. Call if you need anything!" She thanked me nearly a thousand times before my drink was handed to me and I left the building. Sipping my drink I scroled through my Instagram as I walked towards my favorite seat in the entire park. It was a wooden bench under a weeping willow tree beside a lake. My favorite place on the planet, and also Max's. When he still came with me every day. Now, I went to remember him, and also to cry to him. Because, yes, thes uperstitious part of me still believes that his ghost hangs out waiting for me. Although I know that this is very unlikly and sometimes it hurts me to come, expecially on his death day, but I still do it. Today, I bright summer day, I plugged my headphones in again and sat down, lookinga round for something to distract me so that I don't cry. Because that would be a scene. A nineteen year old girl crying in Central Park. Anyway, I found something. On the ground, a bright orange leaf of the tree was sitting on the ground by the leg of the chair. I picked it up and underneath was what loked like a portal. The only difference was that it showed me pictures. 

I probably sat under that trees, watching the pictures, for over an hour. It was everything Max and I ahd did together. every ball I threw, every treat he ate, and finally, the day he died. On that day, there were many people that did see a nineteen year old cry in Central Park, because it was impossible to clsoe my floodgates. Pictures after pictures, vivid images reminding me of everything I didn;t want to remember. Everything I had worked so hard to erase, so I only wnet through the pain that I put myself through, it was all blowing up in my face. The last image though, taht was the one taht surprised me the most. It was first black, then it turned into a video of a girl that looked like me, watching something on the ground. In fact, i was sson to discover that it was me. I turned myself the other way, and waved at the invisible camera. The image mirrored me doing the same thing. Then, it cut to what was probably the future, a hand picking up the portal thing. I did what it said, and the image disapeared, the portal disintegrating in my hand. Underneath was an old flyer, from probably a month ago. It was for a local shelter, they were looking for people to adopt dogs, because they ahd to many. Without thinking, I jumped up, did a jumpshot to get my cup in the trash and took of towards my home. I passed Brian in the stairwell, this time making sure I didn't run into him, and ran to my room to get my wallet. I backtrailed outside, and to the location given on the flyer. Brian's car was gone. Part of me was disappointed, the rest of me knew I shouldn't be. I open the door and ran to the till. A small plump grandma was sitting there, flipping through a magasin. Other than her, I thought that the store was empty. 

"Any chance you still have dogs?"

"Girl, we always have dogs!" She shuffled around the counter. "Here, follow me." I obeyed and she took me around to a pen in the back. It was filled with a bunch of playful puppies. One of them in particular stood out to me. 

"There. The one with the spots on her ear? How much is she?" The lady laughed. 

"Been trying to get rid of her since she was found. She's an unknown mixed breed, about a month old. If you want her, she's yours." I squeeled and jumped in the pen to pick up the dog. In my arms, the familiar feeling of a puppy, I cried. 

"Yes. Yes. YES! I want her!" Twenty minutes later, I left the shelter, forms signed and new equipement bought. I took Moxie home and instaled a pen for her while I puppy proofed my house again. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed Brian's room number after I look it up in the apartement directory. "Come see." Soon, he was at my door. I opened it and motioned for him to be quiet. But no such luck, because he squeeled almost as loud as I did when he saw her. By night, we were on the couch watching Friends, Moxie on my chest. The next day, I called my mom and my sister. 

"Winter break. My house. I have something to show you."

Now, although it is four and a half years later, I open the door with shining eyes, because I know my husband is right there with Moxie and our daughter. My sister is across the hall and my parents are in Brian's old room. I have my people now. They love me, and I would never ask for anything more. And all thanks to that leaf in the park.