Written by Jennifer Spurgeon
WHEN WE WERE YOUNG
Being a Sophomore at prom sucked. There was nothing “starry” about the night. I sat alone in an uncomfortable dress and my legs itched like crazy. The stupid tulle irritated my thighs even though I had on black tights. I tried ripping it, but it wouldn’t tear.
Lamenting my choices, I leaned back in my chair and stared out the opened double doors behind me.
Kori!
“Got any scissors?” I yelled. She didn’t say anything but waved me over to the “help” table.
From the sparkling streamers hanging from the ceiling to the midnight blue backdrop and fairy lights as a photo booth, the world outside of the underwhelmingly large room was far more themed and impressive. Kori wasn’t an actual member of the student council, but she was the closest they could get to a professional stylist. Talented with hair and make up, and best of all, she was relatable. There’s nothing off putting about an emo chick that somehow knows everyone’s secrets.
Anthony was gay; Shanice was pretending to be dumb; and the lunch lady was sleeping with the janitor. Okay, everyone knew that last one, but no one cared, so it was like a secret.
“What do you want scissors for?” Her voice cracked as she spoke. She’d been here for hours, long before anyone else arrived, and her voice was starting to give.
“I have to cut this shit off.” I lifted my knee-length skirt above my thighs to expose the tulle.
“If you need to alter your gown, please go to the bathroom,” Coach Tiller instructed us from the photo booth as two band kids scooted in close to their drum major. With Kori’s help, they’d turned their old marching uniforms into unique outfits. The duct-taped couple waited in the wings. Honestly, his dress and her suit should have won scholarships.
The beige bathroom screamed nineties convention center, not “night of your life,” and there was someone sobbing in the big stall. Kori ignored them and crouched down.
As I hiked up my dress, I asked how her girlfriend was.
“That’s an odd thing to ask with my head up your skirt,” she jested. “But she’s good. She’s setting up the After Prom booths.”
For the briefest of moments, my mind wandered to the sensation of her fingers grazing my thighs and her pin-cushion corsage pushing up the fabric of my dress. Fire burned along my nerves, but taking a deep breath, the dress’s corset dug into my side.
She was my friend.
“You two really need to start an event planning place here after school,” I commented, clearing my head.
“You think we want to stay here?”
“Fair enough.” I had no desire to leave town. It was cozy. Besides, I had two more years before I needed to make plans for any big next moves. Kori, on the other hand, was finishing off her junior year. If it weren’t for the fact that she was terrible at math, I wouldn’t have even known her—she was in my Algebra one class last year. I planned to finish calc by senior year, while she just worried about getting Geometry out of the way so she could graduate and move on to a design school.
“Where’s Robin?” She set the scissors down on the sink and meticulously wrapped up the fabric; she’d never waste a scrap.
“Come on, you know where he is. Probably smoking out back or making out with his boyfriend.” I was only at prom because he needed me to pay for his ticket since his family wouldn’t.
“I know. I saw the two of them duck into a dark corner at the end of the hall, but I wanted to see if you knew.”
I smiled, trying to hide my boredom.
“Why don’t you hang out with me and we can head to the after party in an hour?” Kori offered. Her smokey eyes tempted me. Whenever we hung out, it was super chill, but there was a wall. Something I erected but couldn’t explain, as if we were the same person split by a lack of mutual interest. She could’ve been me in another universe, or I could’ve been her.
“Nah. I’m fine.”
DJ Casper’s Cha Cha Slide filled the lull between us. Grabbing the scissors, I beckoned for Kori to follow me. Who could resist the magnetic pull of the hip hop line dance?
Wanting to be noticed, I tried to saunter back, but my walk resembled a newborn deer. If someone complimented me, I’d relax. Maybe Kori would say something.
Unfortunately, by the time we got back, the song was over and she hadn’t said anything. My disappointment mounted when two girls stumbled out of the convention hall, their boyfriends in tow. The ensuing drama, however, was too much for me to handle and I disappeared back into the hall, leaving Kori to attend to them.
“I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s nice to see you though,” a familiar voice noted. Ethan appeared in front of me. His baby blue tux, slicked back sandy blond hair, and a smirk were all I needed. “You look good.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
We’d danced around each other before. When I joined orchestra last year, he’d snuck me and his cousin into the rafters above the auditorium, but nothing came of it.
As his eyes trailed up my body, heat burned my skin. I was like a moth drawn to his flame. If the room were any brighter, he’d have seen me blush.
“Where’s Julie?” I looked around for his cousin as if her presence would save me from the fire.
“She’s a Sophomore.”
“Right.” I stumbled over my words, worried I was making a fool of myself. “I forgot there’s two years between you.”
“How are you here?” He cocked his head to the side.
Gleefully caught in his gaze, I ran my fingers over the black beading that blended into my dress and babbled on about how Robin and I were just friends. I explained that I totally wasn’t dating him and that he was off with someone else. “It would have been nice if he hadn’t left me alone the entire night.”
“Why don’t you hang with me?” Ethan pushed his hands into his pants pockets and headed towards the door. “I was gonna grab a snack.”
It was cute that he’d rather go peck at the food selection than invite me to dance. His cousin had told me he had zero coordination, even though Ethan’s older brother was a legend at the school. “Sure.”
Kori was helping Coach Tiller take down the photo booth when we walked out. The snack table had been picked clean so he suggested we go to After Prom. I couldn’t turn down more time with him and the promise of free food.
I made sure to tell Kori we were leaving.
As we rolled up to the school, I gushed about the bonfire near the football field and the themed game booths: Constellation Darts, Galaxy Pitch, and Black Hole Putt-Putt. I’d been too nervous to talk the whole ride, but now I couldn’t shut up.
Ethan agreed and hopped out. Opening the passenger door, he commented that this year was better than the last. I giggled and stepped out. His scuffed up gold El Camino had been my Apollo’s chariot.
Unfortunately, there was no sun and the chilly night confronted me. I lost focus of the school grounds. Everyone at the games had something warm over their gowns or had changed into sweats. I was stupidly standing there in a halter top dress with a short skirt. When I shivered, Ethan flashed me a charming smile and placed his suit jacket over my bare shoulders.
“Thanks,” I squeaked and slid my arms into the sleeves. The silky fabric against my skin smelled of him.
Taking my hand, he leaned into me. “Should we get something real to eat?”
“Yes.” I reveled in the warmth of his hand.
Doing my best not to trip over cracked asphalt, I forgot to watch where I was going and bumped into Dominique, her messy bun in my face.
“Sorry,” I apologized.
“No problem.” Her voice startled me. For such a small person, it was surprisingly deep. Straightening the food table, she asked where Kori was.
“I came with Ethan,” I answered.
He nodded to her and let go of my hand before giving me an empty plate.
Dominique stared past me and complained to someone at the drink table. “John is messing with the bonfire again. Can you please go up there?”
As the guy jogged off, Ethan put a sandwich chunk on my plate and took two for himself.
“Do you think Kori will be here soon?” Dominique’s face was marred by fatigue.
“I think so.” I said between bites. “She was packing up when we left.”
She glared past me and sighed. “They had to put the pyro in charge. I knew John would go hard, but I was hoping he’d have some restraint.”
“Dad said he’s sending a few of his guys,” Ethan commented and tossed his plate.
“They better get here soon,” she huffed.
A second later, the fire engine drove up the emergency road behind the football field. Ethan ran his arm around my waist and smirked. I nearly choked on my sandwich and had to throw the rest away.
Leaning into me, he spoke above Yellowcard coming from the speaker next to us. “Should we go up to the bonfire?”
Before I could reply, Kori arrived. She’d changed into a plush hoodie with ears and fuzzy ball tassels for drawstrings. I wanted to squeeze her like an oversized teddy bear, but I was stuck to Ethan. Instead, I placed my hand over his and greeted her with a smile.
Dominique darted from behind us and threw herself on Kori. They went on and on about their evenings as though we didn’t exist. Their sweet affections shined brighter than the bonfire—brighter than stars. They were the romantic couple proms were geared toward, not hapless Sophomores who were in it for the fancy dresses and overpriced experience.
Lost in my thoughts, a pang of jealousy stole the briefest hint of happiness I had for them. When Ethan squeezed my waist, I snapped back to reality. There was nothing else to think about—just him. Gesturing toward the football field, I shimmied out of his arm and wove my fingers through his.
I braved the long walk across the parking lot and field in heels—this night wouldn’t be a total bust. Flames kissed the sky as we walked up and I glanced over my shoulder to see the blaze flicker in his eyes. The heat between our hands grew unbearable and I let go.
Wrapping his arms around me, he rested his chin on my shoulder and placed his cheek to mine. I was completely enrobed by him. My heart raced at the thought and I inhaled sharply, taking in more of his presence. The fruity scent of hair gel mixed with the smell of smoke.
The world around me faded and only the bonfire was visible. Lifting my hands to his forearms, I clutched the only thing that seemed real. I wasn’t alone in my spiral. He was holding me to himself.
Careful not to disturb our piece of time, I wished it would last forever, even though I knew it wouldn’t. His graduation was coming. As he nuzzled my neck, his words melted into my skin: “I’m so glad I ran into you tonight.”
A dizzying sensation ran through my body. I couldn’t speak, but I wanted more. The heat on my skin burned with his desires.
HELLO MELLO
My past swirls around the plastic Solo cup, its fluorescent yellow color spiked with Moonshine.
It’s disgusting.
There’s no way this could ever go down smooth, but I tip the cup up anyway, drowning myself in a haze of liquor and memories, Yellowcard’s Ocean Avenue pumping out of the speakers of this nostalgia party.
Sweaty bodies of people I don’t care for bounce up and down throughout the living room as we listen to our collective past, but my thoughts go to you, the one who once said I could read you like a book.
Our time was short, burned by a bonfire with no warmth and a house lit with incandescent bulbs that shone bright against the backdrop of a country autumn night. I followed you like a fool into that empty home, only barely keeping my bearings as I sidestepped our mutual desires.
Thank God you’re not here.
The living room begins to spin—the music another song we all scream to—we haven’t heard this one in years.
I let the alcohol flow through my veins—as if I could stop it. This high school reunion has been a bitch, but when I catch my Uber back to my hotel, I’ll gladly go back to my life, forgetting this evening as well as my memories of you, the taste of your lips no longer relevant.
You didn’t want me and I’ll be okay.
A REAL REUNION
Standing on the threshold of nothing, I spin around to find myself in a sea of endless memories. People I once knew are now faceless. You’re there amidst the crowd in your powder blue suit. It’s dated, but you aren’t.
“You honestly thought I’d be here? I graduated before you.” That voice is exactly the same as it had been the night you said good-bye. “Prom was fun and all and you definitely made my summer more lively, but you were just a tryst.”
Nausea wakes me from a nightmare. There’s no way Ethan would have been at the reunion last night. It was stupid to think he would be. The thing I regret most is not avoiding him all together. His love made me feel worthless. It’s like I’m still missing a piece.
The yellowed toilet seat calls to me as I burst into the bathroom to make an offering. The idea of placing my hands and face on such a surface is enough to ignite my anxiety into a frenzy, but the cheap plastic waste bin would be more annoying to clean.
Waves of burning flesh and cold sweats crash into me, one after the other. I shake as I clutch the porcelain bowl. If I’d just vomit, get rid of all this bile, I’d be free to go back to sleep, but I hold it all in, fighting against the inevitable. Tears run down my face as I finally let go of what’s inside of me.
The crash hits hard. After I rinse my face and mouth, I crawl into bed. Curled up in the fetal position, I pray for sleep and eventually fall into total darkness.
Clutching my forehead, I throw what’s left of my stuff into the suitcase. This hangover is killer. That bastard wasted enough of my Sophomore year, he’s not worth a second more of my adult life. Even a shower and brushing my teeth isn’t helping.
I knock back Tylenol and zip up the carry-on. I need to move faster if I’m going to make it back to Philadelphia before sunset. Sighing, I drag myself and my bag from the room into the hallway. The murderous red carpet and yellow walls smell worse than I remember. Last night was a blur, but I got out of Shanice’s living room without doing anything too stupid.
In the lobby, I warily wait to check out. The Sunday morning crew is different from yesterday’s staff. Luckily, there’s a college kid working the desk and none of the other guests are recognizable.
On my way out of town, I spot the billboard for Sam’s Café. I can almost smell the blueberry scones and taste the ultra sweet caramel lattes I used to binge. The thought turns my stomach, but I need something to eat and I can’t leave without remembering something nice.
I make a sharp u-turn and drive up Main Street. If I crane my neck, I can see the high school parking lot. There should be skateboarders, but the sea of asphalt is tragically empty. Of course, Anthony and his crew aren’t there. He lives in Boston now. Instead, the cracked blue and white sign from the seventies has been replaced by something flashy that sparkles like fool’s gold in the morning sunlight.
As I pull into the cafe’s little lot, my phone aggressively vibrates in the cupholder. Jordan’s name and face stare up at me, judging me. I should have deleted her number after we broke up, but it always slipped my mind. I still have mom and dad’s old landline.
I push open the door and barely miss the dumpster I parked next to. “Hello?”
“Are you really dating Mark from the Chemistry Department?”
“Not really.” I regret answering. “We’ve only been on two dates. Why does that matter?”
“I just thought…” Her voice is blocked out by the welcome bells chiming loudly in my other ear.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I sigh. Over break, Jordan suddenly told me she was accepting a job at the University of Mannheim. We’d only been together for a year. “You know I don’t want to leave my job.”
“Well, there’s phones and emails, and I’ll come back almost every month.”
“Look,” I accidentally blurt into the microphone. “Sorry. My head is throbbing and I have a seven hour drive back. I can’t do this.”
“Will you at least see me off next week?”
“Maybe.” The word slips out before I hang up. Jordan is nice enough. I don’t want to hurt her, but I couldn’t fit myself in her arms. How could I build a future on such a weak past?
Getting in line, I glare up at the brightly lit menu. I’ve never had migraines, but it must feel like this—nausea and a splitting headache.
“Can I help you?” some kid asks from across the counter.
“I’ll take a coffee, water, and blueberry scone to go.”
“We’re out of blueberry. I can get you cherry rhubarb.”
“That’s fine.” I shrug, waiting for him to tell me my total. It really doesn’t matter as long as I get something in my stomach soon. As I tap my card, another employee hands me the bagged scone and drinks. It feels good to have adult money, though I’ve spent too much on this trip.
I mumble my thanks and take a sip of the coffee, scalding my tongue. Setting the coffee and scone on the nearest table, I fill my mouth with ice water and pop open the coffee cup. The steam wafts from the open drink. Without room for creamer, I might as well sit down and wait.
Grabbing the scone, I admire the hard sugar on top. It matches the tart cherries perfectly, but I can’t taste the rhubarb. It’s probably an attempt to make the item more seasonal. Glad to have something in my stomach, I forgive the additional charge for an ingredient. Even the throbbing in my head has dulled.
As I collect the trash and my cooled coffee, the door chimes again. This time, it’s a little less annoying. Glancing up, an electric shock runs through my body.
“Kori?!” Her name escapes my lips. I’ve called attention to myself without even thinking. I should have hid. The last time I saw her was at her graduation party at the end of my junior year. We’d barely spoken all night, but when I went to say goodbye, we got into an argument. I can’t remember why.
“How have you been?” Kori stops shy of the table.
I’m frozen in place, but greet her: “Not too bad, I guess.”
“Me too.”
I crumple the scone’s bag in my hand. It adds to the idle chatter and steam from the espresso machine.
“I thought you moved to Columbus to be with Dominique.”
“Yea.” She shifts her weight, crinkling her fitted violet blouse. Her once safety-pin-riddled pants have been replaced with checkered trousers. “But it didn’t last.”
I’m drawn to the change. Is she who she used to be or someone new? “Why?”
“We had different visions.” Kori runs her fingers through her dark hair, revealing the bleached strands underneath. “Just didn’t work.”
Images of her with a half-up, half-down do dance through my thoughts. I didn’t go to prom her senior year. Having gone as a sophomore made it less exciting, but I saw pictures of her in a tailored suit dress and pin-striped fedora. Her hair now would have fit the look perfectly.
“Sorry,” I apologize absentmindedly. It probably means nothing coming from me.
“Don’t be. It was a few years ago anyway.” Her eyes trail to the menu. “I’ve been living in Pittsburgh recently. I’m an event planner at U. Pitt.”
“Didn’t you always want to be a designer?”
“I tried, but it didn’t pay much.”
“I guess not.”
A lull in our conversation drives me to say something. “I guess I shouldn’t keep you.”
“It’s fine. I just need a scone before I go.”
I take her response as an invitation to join her, if only for a minute more. “What were you doing in town? Your reunion was last year.”
“You remember Robin?” Her eyes sparkle as if they’d been lit by a magical memory.
“How could I not, the punk left me alone at prom!”
Kori’s chuckle lights up the cafe. “Right. I forgot about that! You know, I haven’t used that tulle I cut from your dress. It’s buried in one of my fabric boxes.”
When she smiles, warmth kisses my cheek.
“Maybe you could use it.” And think of me. My face hurts from smiling and I have to suppress the urge to cry. Why haven’t I thought of her in so long? Maybe because she reminds me of my first girlfriend in college.
She stares off before answering. “One day… Anyway, I’m a plus one for his wedding today. His groom was the one that helped me get a job at Pitt.”
My stomach drops. “Oh, that’s cool.”
“How have you been?” Kori’s smile fades as she speaks.
“Fine.” I force myself to answer. “I’m an associate professor of Mathematics at Drexel. There’s not really much else.”
No way I’m bringing up Jordan and Mark.
The strumming of a guitar fills the cafe. Turning my head, I spot the young woman sitting in the far corner with an acoustic guitar. At first, I don’t recognize the song. A second later though, the twang in her voice brings Taylor Swift’s Betty to life.
The lyrics cut through years of forgotten desire. I’ve spent too long chasing the wrong memories. I should have remembered you instead. “Have you ever heard this song?”
“I haven’t.”
Something slams into me as the guitarist sings the chorus.
Jealousy.
I argued with her because I didn’t want her to leave. It wasn’t fair that Dominique got to kiss Kori, but I never did. I should have kissed her in the bathroom at prom.
“It’s a song about regret.”
She nods her head and watches the woman play.
I inch closer, drawn by the past, or maybe the present. “I’m sorry.”
She looks back at me and scrunches up her face. “For what?”
“Graduation. I kind of ruined your open house.” My cheeks burn as my chest tightens and I struggle to breathe.
“You definitely made it worse, but my drunk aunt throwing up in the punch bowl after you left kind of wins.”
“I can’t believe your family was so shitty.”
“There’s a lot I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Dominique knew.”
“Why?”
“I felt like, if I let her know, she wouldn’t want me. My family was a mess and she had so many plans for a future. I didn’t want to screw that up.” She shrugs. “I guess I should’ve known I just wanted her to help me escape.”
“I should’ve known.”
“How could you? I didn’t want anyone to know.” She glances back at the menu. “I was ashamed.”
Taking a deep breath, I hold the tension in my chest before letting it go as I exhale. “Can I buy you something?”
“You don’t have to.”
“Sure, but I have a while before I have to leave.” That was a lie. I should already be gone.
“Okay.” She steps up to the counter and waits, shifting her weight to one leg. She never had the best posture. I can still picture her hunched over her notebook, doodling dresses and blouses in math.
After she places her order, I hand over my card. We shuffle to the end of the counter to wait. The cart with the lids, sugar, and creamer is against the wall behind us. Her latte will take longer to make than my drip coffee did earlier.
I take a sip of the room temperature drink. Its bitter taste will need ample amounts of cream and sugar to correct, but I don’t want to turn my back on Kori. She’ll get her drink soon enough and we can turn around together.
Taking another sip, I think of her sweetness. The subtle way she was my friend and how she made high school more normal.
“I liked you in high school.” I should think before I speak.
“You did not.” She turns around with her coffee and pastry.
“I did. I just didn’t know it.”
“Seriously?”
“Yea. I’ve never been happy. Not with Ethan, or Jordan, or that guy I dated senior year. I’ve…” The confused look on her face stops me. What am I getting at? Am I confessing?
“That makes sense.” She glances up at the wall clock and smiles before looking back at me. “I don’t know if I should be complimented or not.”
“You should be.”
“Thanks.”
“Not that you have to be or anything,” I babble. For a brief moment, her laugh makes me feel fifteen again. “I wish I would’ve known you were in town, too.”
She runs her thumb over the lid. “It would have been nice. Unfortunately, I gotta go.”
She hugs me tight like she had when I arrived at her open house. Lost in the smell of coffee and floral shampoo, I hug her back.
“I’m glad I ran into you,” I whisper to her hair.
“Me too.” She lets go and scoots away. Her eyes flit back to the clock. “I’ll let Robin know he still owes you.”
“Thanks.” If I hadn’t paid for his prom ticket and gone with him, I never would have run into Ethan, but having that memory of Kori is priceless.
The door chimes loudly when she pushes it open with her hip.
“Felicity!” My name cuts through the cafe and my soul. “You were a good friend.”
“You too,” I mumble and raise my hand in an awkward wave. Frozen in time, I watch her rush to her car and drop into the driver’s seat. The space between us stretches farther as she turns out of the cafe’s tiny parking lot and heads down the street.
I sip at my cold, bitter coffee before taking the remnants to the bathroom. Fluorescent lights and decor straight out of the eighties greets me. Even the cracked toilet lid is exactly as it had been. It’s comforting knowing some things never change.
After dumping the drink and getting ready for the trip back to Philadelphia, I stop at the counter and order my usual, ultra sweet caramel latte. It somehow tastes different, but I’m okay with that.
When We Were Young first published in Wild Press Publishing, Prom Perfect anthology.
Hello Mello first published in Full Mood Magazine, Yellow issue.
.
Jennifer Spurgeon is a substitute teacher. When she’s not working, she enjoys manipulating her emotions with music and writing vibes. Publishing news and short writings are posted on einetogicuentos.blogspot.com.