the story of nicole

May 23rd rolls by as memories often do. She grimaces at the past. recalling what could have been. what might have been. what would no longer be. pondering how certain moments stay with us, while others simply vanish. May 23rd will never go away.
*****
he picked her up so they could hang at his place, instead of under the watchful eye of her father. a father who was not watching very carefully. or if he was he didnt notice. they drove to his place. fooled around. he smoked. she declined. getting stoned wasnt her thing. anymore. yet. her stash of prescription pills stolen from parental medicine cabinets called to her from the bottom of her purse. she was saving them for later. like a squirrel saving acorns for the winter.

lets go for a drive.

through the forest they meandered. along a road meant for park service vehicles. little paths branched from the main artery. deeper in the forest still. trees surrounded by the city. in a city by the beach.

he parked in a clearing. rain dropped down from the canopy. he folded the hatch-back seats flat, layed down some blankets and escorted her to the nest he had made. they could look up and see the trees. and the sky. and the silence that surrounded them.

it started with a kiss. something they both wanted. something they both needed. to belong. to be a part of something greater than themselves. how lame. how pathetic. how much they needed it at the time. the kisses led to things that kisses lead to. eventually he on top of her. doing things that teenagers shouldn't be doing, but finding some reason to justify it. she looked up, through his eyes to the sky above. enjoying the moment, but lost in the trees. no cares if they get caught. the acceptance and bond and attention was what she craved. its what she got.

love ended in a heap of passion. they dress. he smokes a cigarette. hadn't he told her he quit? she waits patiently for him to finish.

they drive to a home she is not familiar with. this is Jimmy's he says. lets hang out here for a while. they have satalite tv and every video game system you can imagine. and a pool. and a tonne of food in the fridge. she follows him through the front door. he says he'll be right back. she makes herself comfortable on the long leather couch in front of the tv next to some stranger who is watching a UFC fight. five, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes go by without a sign of anyone but the stranger. the stranger offers her a drink. no thanks. perhaps a clue would help her out more.

he comes back. pie-eyed. too stoned to recall how long he was gone. thanks for nothing. she thinks. i have to go now, she says, can you give me a ride? just call your dad, he says. not an option. he concedes. he climbs begrudgingly into the car. she into the passenger seat. he books it towards her father's house. no care for his speed. no care for his passenger.

she asks him to drop her off at the arcade on the beach. she wants to grab some candy from the convenience store next door. he complies. she kisses him goodnight and pretends to walk inside the arcade. he peels out of the dirt lot. she walks away. away from the arcade. away from the store. towards the tracks. towards the beach. towards the sunset.

its 6.43. the sky is clear. stars are starting to poke through the navy colours in the east. pinks and purples and oranges and reds sink into the west. she sits on the tracks. obscured by the bushes. enough not to be seen, but enough to not look like its on purpose. she is mesmorized by the sunset. what it all means. the end of the day.

she sits and ponders the events of the day. wonders her importance in the life of the boy who supposedly loved her. if this were so, he wouldnt abandon her. but when they are together, just the two, its like nothing else matters.

her heart breaks a little as she continues to analyze her self and her worth. contemplating why she treats herself the way she does. why she lets others treat her the way they do. its all for acceptance though. being somebody matters. as long as your not nobody.

a train whistle blows. the 7.10 train is getting ready to cross the border. she considers waiting for it. sitting on the rail. hidden by the brambles of blackberry bushes and grasses that claim both sides of the track. she picks up a piece of shale that makes the bed of the track. she throws it and listens as it bounces across the rocks on the other side of the bushes.

she waits and ponders some more. about school. about life. about anything that should matter. the whistle blows again. the train has come round the bend and is on its way to the city. a few miles through native land, over a bridge, and it would be at her feet. her heavy cement feet.

she looks around for someone. anyone who will see her and yell for her to run. to jump. to get out of the way. sadly there is no one. no one to rescue her. not that she needs rescuing, or so she tells herself.  the whistle blows again. it wakes her out of her coma. responsibility and expectations come flooding back. her insatiable burden to please everyone and not disappoint them overtakes her and she steps off the track, meandering towards the water.

after the train passes she lies down on the grass near the waves. staring up at the stars. at what she almost became. her secret safe inside her head.

further down the track she hears the whistle again. she gets up and decides to head home. three blocks to her bedroom. comfort. sleep. when she steps through the front door her father asks where she has been. at the beach with him. she lies. why are your eyes red? he asks. we got in a fight and i walked home. she lies even more. the truth is just too ugly. too complicated. too pathetic.

she escapes to her bedroom and silently cries herself to sleep where she cant get hurt. he pages her at one in the morning. 143. i love you.

*****
the train was late that day. she was the only one that noticed.