Miss Bells

Why is everyone turning into ghosts? 

Awkward encounters at a grocery store. A slightly rude conversation with someone who cut you in line. Distant relatives that act foolish when the state of the country is brought up. All these situations have something in common. Just make it to the end. Just be polite and civil for thirty seconds at the most then you’ll never see them in your life again. Well except for the relative thing but you don’t see them much so what does it matter anyway? It’s much more worth it to just hang in there than to cause a scene, give a breakdown of every wrong move your opponent made. 

It gets tough when the encounter is not something so distant. When it’s with someone that affects your life in a meaningful way. Or at the very least might become a problem if handled improperly. 

My dear friend Avery and I just got back from a five day cruise.  On the third night we met a pair of boys who ended up being our cruise boo’s. It was Avery’s birthday so we went to the ship’s night club to celebrate. The club itself was fine, nothing remarkable. The real fun started as we were leaving. I got separated from Avery on the way out because one of the creeps from the dancefloor pulled her into a conversation. She’s the type to entertain conversations with such men out of politeness. I am the type to hold a conversation with a creep only if there is something in it for me with no remorse. 

I made it all the way to the door until I realized she was not behind me. “Great” I said, going back in to find her. Just then a boy who looked about our age saw me and my struggle and told me that my friend was back there. He did a vague gesture towards the bar. I thanked him then he left. Fortunately he was right and I saw Avery walking towards me, finished with her trite conversation. I knew the mystery man had been waiting for a chance to talk to us when I saw him slowly leaving the club. The kind of walk where you’re waiting for someone but don’t want to look obvious. Per usual I took the initiative to say hello and learned his name was Payton. Not my type at all because he laughed at things that weren’t funny. My type is anyone who speaks with convection. Payton and Avery got along right away. 

The three of us, happy to be away from the Carnival Club, went up to the top deck. My favorite part about living on the ship was being able to go out to the deck at any time. Looking out and seeing miles upon miles of nothing it was scary and peaceful simultaneously. While walking we spotted Avery’s brothers. They were hanging out with the same girls that they’d been hanging out with all week. Sweet girls I could tell they weren’t going to kiss them though. As they got closer we noticed another boy with them. He was about my height and as skinny as me-which is saying something. If you were blind you would have thought he was 6 feet tall and weighed 250 by the way he carried himself. Here I will refer to him as Josh. 

The eight of us hung out for a while  until the two girls had to go to bed so now it was just the six of us. With nothing to do we let Josh take us to the front of the ship on deck seven. It wasn’t an off limit area but less known, we had to walk through a hallway of staterooms to get to the deck. 

We stayed out in that spot for almost two hours. This feat can mainly be attributed to Josh who was one of the most interesting conversationalists I have ever been around.  Embarrassment was a foreign concept to him, we found out alot about him that night including but not limited to: his ex-girlfriend Eva is a ‘cunt’, his best friend Josh ‘greased up’ his ex while they were still dating, he volunteered as a firefighter, he lived in a double wide and he went through at least one vape pod a day. Whatever he was talking about and however funny the subject he always talked with such conviction like you couldn’t help but get sucked into his weird little world. 

Oh and Payton was there too. 

The next night started the same but ended with Avery and Payton hogging up our room to well, hog. (I’ve never heard anyone call it hogging, petition to start.) Avery and I talked about either one of us being able to have the room to ourselves if anything started with either boy. I really thought it would be me that night using the room because Josh asked me flat out “Do you want to fuck?” as we were all walking back to our rooms the night before. (I politely said maybe tomorrow then Avery, me and her brothers all laughed about it later.) I hadn’t so much as kissed someone since G. I remember writing about it in my little journal I have it right here: 

“When I have something bad in my head, get it out and onto paper. I’d like to think that I don’t get attached, but that’s not true. People like to think they know their limits but then pride gets the best of us. I get infatuated too easily and it doesn’t take much to do so. After infatuation comes fixation. I must know everything I can to better assess the situation. to make myself better, more appealing to whoever that might be. I’m beginning to realize my relationship with G. was founded on this principle. In the beginning I gathered information and marketed myself accordingly. Here’s what I know: Josh isn’t romantic. But do I like romantic? I don’t know, I keep choosing these guys that tell it like it is with such conviction and changing myself accordingly.” 

Pretty heavy stuff for vacation isn’t it? Even that first night I felt myself getting pulled in again but didn’t do anything to fight back. Just like how the ocean always pulls the tide back in it just felt…inevitable.  

Anyways, Josh happened. Well I guess I should say Josh didn’t happen. I wasn’t up for sex with him. I was in the mood for sure something prevented me though. A little bit of leftover resentment from G. and a lot of false sense of dignity. Whatever dignity even means I guess I have it, I did turn him down multiple times after all. Now I wish I hadn’t.

I have become a cynic when it comes to love. I don;t believe in “true love” not for myself anyways. I look at my abuelita who had a great marriage for over 50 years with a real stand up gent until he died. A literal ghost if you will. 

G. who I thought was it for me; the guy I’d fight an unholy war for vanished. I wasn’t naive towards the end but it was unexpected. It’s been almost two months since he sent me out of his life, hands full with all the baggage of that year long relationship. They say you don’t forget your first ‘love’. The first fights, sleepovers, sex and everything else that comes with love. I speak the truth when I say he’s not worth remembering. 

It’s fair. I wasn’t worth an explanation so why should he occupy any space in my beautiful brain. Two months ago, July fifth. One year and a day since our first kiss on the fourth of July. About three weeks since we last spoke. I heard he was back from a mutual friend. It was the natural thing to do, to call him. We had decided to keep in touch after all. However I got no answer. Five rings and it hung up before the sixth. “What’s up?” he asked. I explained I was just checking up, I heard he was back. His response: “Don’t think that’s a good idea.” Didn’t even get a damn pronoun. Who didn’t think it was a good idea? A friend? His mother? God? I guess I’ll never know since I’ll never ask, I don’t care to know anymore. 

They say it takes half the time you were together with someone to get over them and if so I got four more months to go. It hasn’t been all bad. The first few days after being shunned were dark as I only had the ghost of our past love to accompany me. The ghost hung around during my fling with Josh, preventing anything too extreme from happening between us. Or maybe that was just the experience I gained (to be determined.)