The Perks of Reality

      On a balmy August day, I sat on a park bench under a maple tree with a book in my hands and fell madly in like with Joaquin. I won’t go as far as to say love, I didn’t know him and I’m not that crazy. Or so I hope. Anyway, the book was about aliens, I think. Usually, they were. After reading only one sentence, I looked up from the pages to the sound of his wheels rolling across the concrete in front of me. The way his gray t-shirt billowed around him from the speed at which he rode cause a butterfly flutter in my heart. His body leaned back; his front foot slid up the board as the front of it lifted into the air. The wind pushed his t-shirt up enough to reveal the top of red, black, and white plaid boxers and a tiny bit of smooth tan skin. My breath caught in my throat. Then he stumbled back off the board while it continued rolling ahead without him. I loved the way his face scrunched up and he mouthed the word “fuck.” I adored watching him go at this trick with all the seriousness of someone trying to go pro, even though it was one of the most basic tricks he couldn’t land which might mean he hasn’t landed any yet.

           I noticed the way the sun created tiny rainbows across his shiny brown curls. The soft, wild curls that begged my fingers to twirl through them. As he sprawled starfish style across the concrete exasperated by another failed attempt, I longed to hold his head in my lap and massage his scalp with a delicacy that might make those tawny brown eyes roll back in pleasure. I wanted to trace his thin brown mustache with my fingers and kiss those chapped and flakey lips.

           I watched him until pink and purple light painted the sky and streetlights began to glow. The thought people might find that weird never crossed my mind. The rest of the world had slipped away and nothing else existed but this beautiful boy rolling across hilly concrete and falling whenever he tried to fly. A mosquito bit me hard enough to pierce through my daydreaming, like a pinch brings you to the waking world when sleeping.

           “Hey, Joaquin, I’m headin’ out. Peace, man.” That was when I learned his name from some friend I hadn’t even noticed until now but had possibly been there all day.

           “See ya tomorrow,” Joaquin said, and in those three words I knew I could listen to him for hours. He had the kind of deep, sexy voice of a Rockstar.

           “Why can’t I do this?” This he asked of the air. No one was around anymore, and I started to feel like a creep concealed in the dark shade of the tree watching him. I shoved my book in my bag, stood up too straight, and considered tip toeing away to remain invisible. My back and legs ached from remaining seated for far too long.

           When I stepped out into the light, our eyes met. I stared at him frozen like a deer in headlights. The corner of his mouth curled up in a half smile. My heart raced and pounded so loudly I feared he could hear it from all the way over there.

           “Hi!” The word squeaked out of my mouth like an alarm. An alarm sounding because I shouldn’t be speaking at all. To make matters worse, I followed up the obnoxiously squeaky “hi,” with an awkward hand wave. I shook my hand too much, too fast, and for too long. I pulled it down to my side and felt my nostrils flare and my eyes widen with humiliation.

           “Hi,” he said with a that’s-so-adorable type laugh. “Nice night out, huh?”

           I stared at him blankly. His head titled forward, his eyebrows rose, and his eyes squinted. I could tell he was confused by my not saying anything. Why didn’t I say anything? Why did I just stare like a complete weirdo? Finally, I nodded my head. He must think there’s something wrong with me. My only explanation for what happened next is that my anxiety grew so strong my fight or flight reflexes must have kicked in instinctually. I fled the scene without another gesture or word. What would he think of my literally running away from him? Who knows?

           It must have been hard for him to understand, being the confident guy that he was. Not that he’d want to talk to me anyway. Living in fantasy was better. In my fantasy world, I was clever and witty. I could say the perfect things at the perfect time and be everything he wanted and deserved with ease. Fantasy me wasn’t awkward, insecure, or shy.

I imagined us together. At his age and skill level, he wouldn’t be a pro skater, but maybe he could have a YouTube channel or work at a skate shop like all the cool guys do. Do they? I’ve never been in one. Whatever he did, I’d cheer and support on the side lines with the fierce intensity of a hockey mom. I’d never let him see any seed of doubt in my unrelenting belief in his potential. I dreamed of that half smile.

           The next day, I dressed in a cute sundress, put on a little makeup, and returned to the same spot. He never showed up. The following day I considered the fact that maybe I somehow jinxed myself by dressing up and wore an old t-shirt and shorts. Sure enough, he was there, and I almost ran home to change. Instead, I quickly sat down, pulled out my book and held it up to cover my face as I watched him over the top.

           I loved the clattering noise his board made when he tried tricks and it fell. I loved the way his head bobbed to the music in his earbuds. What did he listen to? I could imagine him as a punk rock type. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he listened to trippy trance music or soothing indie. Probably something energetic to keep up the psych though. I loved the way he sometimes got mad and kicked at his board, then quickly picked it up like he worried he hurt it. I loved the way he watched other skateboarders land vert flips in that daydreamy way I watched him with. I couldn’t get enough of how good he looked lightly coated in sweat. What did he smell like? I’d do anything to know.

I even liked the way he sometimes spit off to the side. It seemed like everyone there knew him. Mr. Popular. I can’t even imagine how that felt. I wished I had a hangout spot where everyone gave me high fives. I loved how brightly his face lit up during those high fives like it made his whole day to see each of those people. Did that mean he was loving?

           A girl walked up to him. I couldn’t hear what they said to each other and I suddenly wished I had top secret spy gear. Like maybe a tiny unseeable drone that could listen in. This was when I knew I had lost it. I feared I lost him. The dread weighed so heavily inside me I couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone poured concrete down my throat and it hardened, cracking my bones and organs. I fought back tears. This was too much. I didn’t even know him. She was so pretty. Long blonde hair, slender legs for days, and obnoxiously cute dimples. With a sigh, I gave up. It can’t be real love if one person doesn’t even know the other exists. It can’t be any kind of love. I turned my eyes back to my book pages and lost myself in the story. The world of books would always be superior to reality. Honestly, even dystopian books often seemed better than reality. All the smooth talking, strong relationships, adventures, and imaginative worlds seemed amazing.

           Unable to cope with the world around me, I journeyed to space. My ship landed on a new planet. After carefully exploring some incredible flowers and plant life, I found an alien creature. With some time, I grew to love the beings of this planet, and when I found out about their plight with a neighboring king aiming to conquer them, I made it my mission to help them. As the battle began and I suited up with armor, I felt my bench move. That tiny movement hurled me back into reality. I flew past stars, planets, and plummeted to earth. With a deep breath, I grounded myself in my surroundings. A blue sky above me, the vivid green leaves of the maple tree hung over me, and the fresh grass felt soft between my toes. My shoes laid by my feet. I looked over to see Joaquin next to me on the bench with his skateboard between his legs.

           “Nice day,” he said.

           I tried to look at him, but my eyes darted away. So, I nodded instead.

           “You seem shy,” he said.

           Knowing I’d have another awkwardly long lapse in words, I nodded again to give myself time.

           “It’s okay. I am too.”

           This was hard to believe. The girl I saw him talking to walked over, but with a man who had his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

           “We’re going to a party at Jimmy’s. Want to come?” The man asked.

           “Nah, that’s not really my thing,” Joaquin said.

           The couple looked confused. I probably did too. They said goodbye and took off. He continued to sit next to me.

           “People love parties, but they’re kind of boring,” he said.

           I laughed. “A lot of uncomfortable standing around and not knowing where to go or what to do. The parties I go to usually have lawn games and music, but no one seems to dance or play. Just eat and talk and stand around.”

           “Eating’s the only good sounding part of that. I’ll probably get some takeout and play video games.” He grinned. “I guess you could say that sounds boring too, though.”

           “I don’t think so. I like that new skateboard game. It’s the only way I could do tricks.” I meant to sound funny, but worried it came off as stupid or like I was trying too hard.

           “You know, me too.” He laughed and shook his head. “Maybe one day that won’t be the case.”

           “You’re getting better.” I felt my cheeks getting hot and turned away from him. I basically admitted to watching him. Why do I do this to myself?  

           “Thanks! You know, I like that game too. It’s kind of stupid the extra stuff they throw in to appeal to the masses, but it’s fun. Maybe we could play if you want.” His voice cracked a little on the maybe. His right foot tapped rapidly, and his fingers spun the top skateboard wheels while he talked. I loved the way he did all these things. This messy, imperfect conversation was so much better than any I dreamed up.

           “Sure!” That was way too eager. As I envisioned digging a little hole into the ground and burrowing away forever, he gave me this dreamy smile like my embarrassing words and actions were somehow charming. I closed my book and shoved it into my bag. Perhaps just this once, reality was better than fiction.