Curve Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Dominick sat and thought about his last breakup. He wondered what
the last line was that either of them had said to the other. He couldn’t
remember. It wasn’t anything epic or of consequence, although it probably felt
like that at the time. His breakups always felt dramatic. They always felt
important. He could remember the girl in high school who said he couldn’t like
her because she wasn’t worth liking. He remembered the girl in college who said
they would talk after winter break. He remembered the young woman who told him
to call her if he was ever lonely some night.
He could remember so many words said by so many women, all the empty
promises, all the pain, and all the possibilities, but he could not remember
the last thing he had said to Kara, or she to him. That was disturbing. That
bothered him. He felt like for someone so important, he should remember a thing
like that.
He loved her. He loved her to no end. It was the most
excruciatingly painful experience of his life. She made a life out of
bad habits and bad decisions. He looked past them all. She made a life out of
choosing other men and other dreams. Eventually Dominick chose himself.
It was an incredibly difficult thing to do and he regretted it often. He wished
he could remember what those last words were. He had thought about calling her
to try to find out, but he realized what a colossally bad decision that would
be. Still, the mystery bugged him.
He stared at the computer screen, but did not act. He
had in the past. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. He had looked into their
pasts. He had studied and learned all there was to learn. He saw all the
diseases, the pains, the suffering, the failing bodies -- he was glad dating
them never worked out. Did that mean he was a bad person, to not want their
drama? To not have to take care of them now? He had looked too many times
into the past when he should have left well enough alone.
He had looked into Kara. Not as often because it hurt
too much, but he had done it. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do now. He had
always made the same mistakes in the past. He didn’t want to make the same
mistakes now.
There was no pressure like the pressure felt while
staring at the blank page thinking about a girl. If he knew the words to say he
would type them or text them or email them or something. He would contact her,
somehow, some way. If only he knew the words.
It had been a summer of excess. Like the world was never going to
end. It was an era for immaturity and indulgence and a lack of accountability.
They danced harder and harder and faster and faster as if the music would never
stop. They were desperate to pretend that change wasn’t inevitable. The parties
were thrown to forget—to freeze time, to move in slow motion, to never have to
stop and think.
He had thought he would know Kara forever. He had planned on
knowing her forever. And now her last words escaped him.
Dominick didn’t know Cassie. They were acquainted through a series
of friends and co-workers. He wasn’t there to meet anyone. He hadn’t planned on
meeting anyone. He certainly didn’t want to be interested in anyone.
The slit on either side of the dress was too high. The dress was
too loose. She had to kneel to pick up the contents of her dropped purse. Dominick could see too much of her calf and
thigh.
And the curve…
That curve, an inch later, an inch higher, made that most
wonderful change in the world there was too make – those hidden curves were
always his favorite curves. A titillating fraction of skin. Erotic, but hidden
just enough to be new and rare. Naked enough to remind and reinforce a hint of
sexuality.
Dominick sat in thought, immobile. He didn’t know Cassie. He
wasn’t sure he wanted to. He wasn’t sure he was ready yet. Instead, he tried to
focus on Kara and wished he could remember her last words to him. He wanted
them to mean enough to be remembered. He wanted that oh so badly. It would have
been so much easier than confronting the new and unknown. But he couldn’t
remember them. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t bring himself to.
No comments:
Post a Comment