Drama's Ghost

We met during the summer semester in a Literary Analysis class. Instantly, we built a kinetic friendship based on sarcasm and an appreciation for good grades. The course was four weeks long; we were almost finishing one another’s sentences by the second week without even knowing either’s last names. 

I never told her how pretty she is or how lovely I thought she was. She was in a relationship at the time, albeit from her descriptions a wounded one. I respected her implicitly. I had finally found someone I could have a decent conversation with. After so many agonizing years of worthless diatribe she came along and blazingly illuminated my world with her brains and her strength. 

Her head barely reached my shoulders but packed within her firm, athletic frame and brightly colored garb was street dog attitude. She didn’t need any makeup. She used it minimally in a strikingly effective way.  

Our symbolic moment arrived the morning I saw her feet. I said I never told her she was pretty, but I did complement her feet. 

“You have the cutest toes in the world,” I said. She said thank you the way a woman says thank you when you call her stunning, resplendent; when you tell them your heart skips a beat every time they enter your sights. 

She explained how much pride she took in caring for her feet. It was like I struck a golden sympathetic nerve.


Jackpot.

The last day of class arrived. I had received the highest grade in class, she was close behind (second or third highest). Neither of us brought it up. The semester was over, we didn’t say goodbye, simply “laters,” and I felt it – WE – felt it. That colloquial pitfall, the emptiness in the conversation where one of us (most likely me) should have asked the other a question; that one question that could have changed our lives. She handled a relationship checkered with deceit, yet I still said nothing because I didn’t need another “friend,” and while I did feel a soul-twining connection with her, I got the impression that she was the type of woman who enjoyed drama. 

Drama - none for me thank you. 

Still, she haunts my thoughts and most recently my dreams. We’ve never seen each other since, never spoken; neither of us knows if the other is even still alive. I can only hope she’s happy. I don’t’ want her to be content. I want her to be happy. 

Maybe I could’ve used a little drama. 

Moving on….all we've ever done....all we can ever do.