A Boy Like That

{Quote}

{Updated}

{Main}
archives

{Write}

{Read}
books
poetry
beats

{Listen}
concerts
bands

{Watch}

{Do}

{Go}

{Me}
photo album

{Contact}
guestbook
you

A Boy Like That
by Robin

"I'll be right back," I said, looking at the young and now unendingly familiar man sitting across the table from me.

"Okay," he said, slowly, with a smile on his face that I had always loved.

***** I walked back to the table realizing that I had no idea what I was doing here. But when I reached the table, I saw that there was no one there. Confused, but calm and quiet, I slowly gathered up my things, a few papers or magazines, from the small, secluded table. I stood there for a moment, and then, hearing a noise, turned and looked toward the lace draped french doors which sat slightly open. Through them I saw my dining companion sitting on a bench in the hall outside the doors, surrounded by the light of the windows behind him.

He sat, talking with a fairly young, brown haired woman. When I walked out into the hallway, he looked up at me and smiled that smile again. As if I was the only thing he had ever smiled at. As if it was all meant for me. I smiled back.

"This is her," he said to the brown haired woman, while staring directly at me. "We used to go out in high school. She was so sweet and beautiful. Isn't she?" His eyes had never left me.

I glanced away from his stare and over to the woman's, akwardly. She smiled, almost laughing. "Yes, she is."

***** The next thing I knew, we were in a dark, smokey room with a pool table in the center and a bar to the side. I was sitting with the woman at a small, round, dark brown, wood table near the wall. He was at the pool table behind me, wandering around. I sat with my elbow propping up my head and looked at the woman, who was turned around slighly in her chair watching the pool table.

"How do you know him?" I asked her.

"We dated a few years ago." I began to regret having asked.

"He talks about you so much. It's really crazy." She was turned back around and faced me. I smiled, and she excused herself and got up to go join the game of pool.

Just as she stood up, he came over and sat down where she had been. I rested my head on my hands which were folded on the table. My head was weighed down with fatigue. I saw the woman walk over to the bar and say something, so I sat up again. While my head was up, he layed his down the same way mine had been, with his eyes facing me. I spoke something to her while letting my head fall down again. But while I was talking and while she was talking, I couldn't take my eyes away from him for very long. He was staring at me. Staring at me intensely. There had to be something behind it, but I couldn't pick up on it, so I looked away, assuming he would too. But as I continued to talk, I saw that he hadn't stopped. He had done this before. He used to all the time. It confused me as much then as it did now. Now my head was back down on the table, and I was facing him. I'll just stare back. I tried to do what he was doing, but couldn't match it still. I stared. He stared. There was something frighteningly intense in his eyes. Kiss me. Why won't he kiss me. I'll stare at him until he kisses me. I stared. He stared. The intensity didn't move.

***** Suddenly I was outside, in some surreal place, wet with a recent rain, with skies of pink and blue. I was walking toward something, and found rows of desks in the middle of this place, and disconnected red walls, with no cieling. I heard familiar music playing. "Do you hear that music?" I asked a teenager that passed by me. "It sounds like West Side Story."

The teenager looked at me strangely. "What are you talking about?"

Confused, I simply responded, "Nevermind," and kept on walking. When I reached the desks, I sat down in the second column. Where I had sat in highschool. I noticed that he was sitting two columns over to my right. I looked over at him, but he was looking straight ahead, and didn't seem to notice me. Teenagers began to fill the room. A girl sat down to my left that I recognized, who was familiar to me. I felt odd being between the two of them. I couldn't figure out why. The room was full now, and everyone sat there, bored, and occasionally talking to one another.

The door ahead of me opened, and through it stepped some famous young man that I immediately recognized. An actor. He stood in front of the class. There's that music again. Where is that coming from? I asked the girl to my right, but she didn't know what I was talking about. Suddenly he roared in a loud voice full of conviction, "She's mine. You don't deserve her. I saw them out together!" I knew he was talking about the girl on my left and me and the young man now to my right. But we just went out to lunch. What is he talking about? Why would it matter anyway?

When I looked away from the man at the front of the room, I saw her get up and leave, and then so did the young man with the stare, but he never looked at me once. The man at the front of the room ran to the young man's desk once he had left, madly searching through his things and mumbling and screaming of love and loss and jealousy and pain.