I can still recall the gleam in her eyes from across the room. My heart fell to the floor and I just knew this girl was different. She was 21 at the time, with short blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and an hour glass figure. I was one of those strange girls who never wanted a relationship. I was most comfortable alone with my thoughts and ideas, never wanting to be bothered by anyone. That was the day it all changed. She was sitting on the couch in my oldest brother’s house, which happens to be the same house I have now. She was a coworker of his wife’s and had just moved into the third bedroom upstairs with a trash bag full of clothes, an old blanket that always smelled of lilac, and a Winnie the Pooh doll. God, she loved that bear. He only had one eye but she never could sleep without him in her arms. Well, we immediately hit it off. I mean, our chemistry was overwhelming at times. I always knew how she was feeling before she even spoke and we’d talk for hours about life, our childhoods, and the people we loved. There wasn’t a single detail I couldn’t say to her or her to me. I was only 15 at the time, but we would lay in her bed every weekend drinking screwdrivers, playing cards and smoking cigarettes. I cherished every moment we spent together and when we were apart, I would clutch my Winnie the Pooh friendship necklace and her “J” ring which she had given me, and I would think of her smile or the way her perfume smelled. It wasn’t long before I discovered she had fallen in love with my second brother. I was overcome with jealousy and couldn’t bear to share her with anyone. Regardless of my feelings and my constant complaints of his imperfections, I could not keep them apart. Their relationship was short lived and of course I was there to pick up the pieces, but she couldn’t stand to be around anymore. She stopped sleeping at my oldest brother’s house, and I saw her less and less. One night I called her with tears in my eyes and told her how much I needed and loved her but it didn’t make a bit of difference. By my next visit to the house, her stuff was gone and my heart was crushed. I cried for months and wrote some extremely bad poetry.
Over the years, I’ve seen her a few times (heck, I even dated her sister) and on every occasion I have a smile from ear to ear. I grab her cigarette and lay my head on her lap and it’s like I am 15 all over again.
