What would I do if I saw her again? The question floated to the forefront of my mind time and time again. There would be moments when I’m sitting on the train going to work, watching the blur of the windows in front of me and a song she forced me to listen to would play. How could I not see her face in faded pastel colors? I don’t know what exactly made me reach out to her, but when I did and she said yes, I felt immovable. I started running through the first sentence I’d say to start the conversation. I asked you to meet because I’m finally back in town, and the first thing I want to do is talk to you. I miss you. I wish it were that easy. I wish she could just open a window in the back of my mind like she used to.
Now I’m walking down some windy path, searching for a hidden spot she described to me. After walking down a flight of stairs that leads into a park, I see her. Minerva. It’s almost like no time has passed at all. She’s sitting criss crossed on a bench near a stretch of grass; a notebook flipped open to a random page covered in small doodles and lines of poetry; a dirty tan tote bag and two books that I have never read lay around her. Minerva looks like she always did: chaotic, but you still feel like getting to know her. I walk over and sit down, but she doesn’t look up until I say,
“Hey. It’s been a while. How are you?” I’m instantly met with her brown eyes staring at me from under coily hair that’s a few shades lighter blond than the last time I saw her, almost white.
Minerva’s laugh is rough and unexpected.
“After four years that’s what you came up with? I was honestly expecting a little more flair, maybe some romance,” her voice trails off at the last few words as her eyes travel to the stretch of grass and trees right next to us. For the first time ever, she actually has me speechless because she’s right; when we stopped talking it was sudden, yet here I am trying to simplify it all into a “How are you?” It’s stupid. After about a minute passes, she looks at me more sternly.
“What do you want anyways? Why’d you ask me to meet?”. Now I’m the one who laughs when I answer.
“Straight to the point, huh? That’s unlike you.”
“When’s the last time you saw me again? Things have changed,” she half scoffs.
Suddenly she’s standing, pulling her sneakers off, and walking onto the grass with just her socks. Minerva walks slowly to the tree dropping its yellow leaves on us and embraces it with her whole wingspan before plopping down on the floor, back meeting the trunk. As she closes her eyes, I watch the sun beaming on her. I’m not sure how she manages to do it, but Minerva always glows like something divine when she sits in the sunlight. I want to join her, but I know my presence will somehow taint the image in front of me. My eyes dart down to my hands the second she looks up.
“Xen, it’s fine. Just come join me. The sun feels really nice, and didn’t you want to talk?”
“Of course I want to talk. I have a lot to say to you, it’s just a matter of figuring out how to start.”
“So tell me why you disappeared and where you’ve been for the past couple of years”.
By this point I’m sitting next to her on the grass. Her straightforward questions catch me off guard again, and when I turn to face her I see that she’s already looking at me, eyes sharp. I finally realize what looks different about her: the strong and steady flames in the back of her mind. It usually took a lot of probing to get her to open up to that intensity if she did at all.
Anybody who met Minerva back in high school could probably tell you how hard it was not to take pity on the girl. She always had a weirdly unique sense of style: baggy clothes, various patterns layered over each other, and nothing new or from popular name brands. This made her draw a lot of negative attention. People speculated about why she dressed the way she did and why she never had a boyfriend or friends. Most assumed she was just an awkward girl who couldn’t make social connections if she tried, but no one actually knew anything about her. She had one friend that she was usually seen with, and when she was alone she was a statue; you couldn’t even tell what she was thinking or feeling. I guess that’s what I hated most about Minerva, but every time she did decide to look at you directly, it felt like being brushed by an angel wing. I couldn’t really hate her if I tried. We became friends junior year because she kept getting hit in the face with the volleyball during PE. She eventually got pissed and told the instructor she was done. He started lecturing her about the importance of putting your effort into all your classes, but before he could finish she was already heading out the gym doors. Everyone always assumed she was innocent, but I came to know that this toughness was in her nature. After school that day, I walked past her on her way to detention and stopped her.
“So what’s your deal? You hardly even speak, and when you finally do you’re already ruffling feathers. Why the tough act?”.
She rolled her eyes, “It’s not an act. I just don’t have any interest in getting knocked in the face for an hour a day. You wouldn’t have to worry about that though, Xen, you’re athletic”.
My name slipped from her lips, and her voice carried itself right into my chest. Her sly insult about my social status at school completely floated over me. I could only hear my name in her voice over and over. I cleared my throat before speaking again.
“You know my name?” Her brows furrowed in confusion.
“We’re in a class together.”
“Most people don’t remember everyone’s name. I know I didn’t. So you have detention?”
“Why do you even care? This is the first time you’ve ever spoken to me”, she stared at the pile of notebooks and novels in her arms as she spoke. Despite her tone, her face looked soft.
“You intrigue me”.
At those three words her eyes flew up to meet mine, and there it was: that feeling of being brushed by an angel wing. I associated it with her so much that Angel ended up becoming her nickname throughout our friendship. Her brown face was tinted red and I could tell that something had stirred in her too.
“See you around”, my back was already facing her when I said my goodbye. The whole interaction had filled me with something alien I didn’t entirely want to meet. Deep emotions weren’t something I allowed in very often.
Sitting on the grass with a 22 year old Minerva is a whole new experience. She’s not soft like that anymore. I wonder why, so I finally spark the conversation and answer her question.
“Okay, truth then. I disappeared because you were the last person I wanted to hurt. I wasn’t what you wanted or needed, so I figured I’d be better off out of your life. College was never for me anyways, so when my uncles from Florida told me they would let me do some work on their farm, I took the opportunity. I actually enjoyed getting close to that side of my family, but it was nothing monumental”. I blurt it all out before I can convince myself to stop talking.
With her eyes closed, she speaks.
“Who says that was true for me? Did you even care that I wasn’t in your life anymore? Actually don’t answer that”, she stares straight up at the clouds now as she continues.
“You would dig around for the girl that was most to your liking and then switch to the next. Within minutes the entire bag of party mix is empty and the only thing lying at the bottom is plain tortilla chips. You were always selfish, so don’t pretend like you were trying to be righteous by dropping off the face of the earth for years.”
I lean up off the tree and spin around to face her with words barging out of my throat, “Were we even in the same friendship Minerva?”
“Clearly we weren’t. I never wanted to be just friends you knew that”, now she’s yelling back at me.
“I never knew anything for sure with you”. Being around her was always so difficult. I would try to see through her actions or listen through her words, but I always came up short of knowing what was really going on in her head. “You just take all your emotions and shove them in a box somewhere deep in your mind. I hated playing with the idea that you didn’t love me too or that I wasn’t good enough for you.”
She goes silent then. This is what I’m used to: Minerva shutting down when things start to get too passionate. My entire body electrifies when she actually does speak.
“I did love you Xen. A little part of me always will”. I lean back on the tree again, but I know how hard it is for her to speak those emotions out loud. So, I grab her hand and join her in watching the sunset fade over us slowly. After a few moments pass, I tell Minerva about the time I spent in Florida, and she tells me about her college experience. By the time we’re done catching up, the full moon is pale in the sky, and we decide to drive to another spot to make the day last longer.
Minerva sits in my passenger seat with the window wide open watching the clouds skate over the moon while we speed down the highway. Every now and then I glance over at her and see those curls whipping around her face.
Goosebumps spread across the surface of my skin as I think back to the times after a football game or random party that I would drive her home. Even on a cold night, she would insist on sticking her head out the window. Then, she’d complain about her hair looking wild. I couldn’t help but grin to suppress my laugh.
“There’s something I left out earlier”, Minerva says while staring straight through the windshield. My brain starts running like an overheated computer, and I pull up to a nice grassy hill near a small lake with a clear view of the night sky. Minerva lags behind me when we get out of the car, and I’m waiting for her to just let it out.
“Last year, I met someone. I didn’t think I would ever talk to you again, so we’ve been seeing each other.”
“I’m happy for you?” is all I can manage after a few seconds of silence.
“Thanks. Anyways, I’m feeling nostalgic, so let’s play some music. Please tell me you have a speaker?” Minerva instantly changes the subject, flinging her tote bag on the floor and scrolling through the music on her phone.
“All these years and you still mooch off other people? Get your own fucking speaker”, I start up the banter again because what else is there to say? She shrugs, takes the box I’m already holding up for her, and puts on a playlist she made for me the winter of senior year.
Minerva’s flannel begins to slip off her shoulder, and her skirt sways just above her feet as she dances effortlessly in tune with the music. With the light shining behind her like this, she’s a nymph from an old folktale. How could I ever think that part of Minerva could die? I can’t resist her pull, even knowing she’s committed to someone else.
“This is such a beautiful night”, her fluid voice breaks through my thoughts.
“You’re right about that, Angel. I feel like I’ve never seen the moon this bright”. Minerva stops dancing and lays on her back next to me, but never takes her eyes off the dark blue abyss above us.
“You haven’t called me Angel all day”, Minerva sounds rough again, “I don’t know if I deserve that nickname anymore. Maybe I did in high school when I never did anything a parent would disapprove of. I told you about my days in college: partying, hooking up with guys and never committing to any of them until my boyfriend. After that, I couldn’t go back to who I was. I can’t keep any friends because people tell me I don’t care enough about anything and that I mask my lack of empathy by saying I’m just blunt. I guess they’re right. I got tired of playing things safe all the time and being afraid to speak what was on my mind. I don’t know what it is I’m chasing in life. Maybe it’s a thrill or to feel alive in the moment. I’m serious when I say I’ve changed Xen.”
I process for a moment before I say anything. “You’re young, and everybody has a rebellious phase, but I know you. Even if you really did all that stuff, even if you’re chasing excitement, your essence could never change. I still see the softness in you.”
She ponders this, and for a moment I think she is going to find something else to come back at me with or just get up and dance again. Instead, she pushes me down on the grass and connects her mouth with mine. My whole body instantly feels drunk off her, and I don’t even care about her boyfriend. Before I really sink in she’s pulling away and grabbing her things and saying something like “I can’t” and “I should go”, but I don’t really hear anything. I’m still numb from kissing her.
When I come to, Minerva is already halfway down the road we came from. I think I finally know what she meant about change. I watch her white curls beaming like a second moon. I watch her until she becomes a star, then stardust and then nothing. A black hole.