Ruminations

5:02pm

I drove to her house again this morning. The trip felt more real this time, which unnerved me for some reason. I ended up falling asleep quite late last night and slept through the alarm I’d set, arriving a little after 9am. There was no one at home.

It was a little frustrating and I spent the rest of the day trying to suppress the impatient anticipation I had of returning.

I went back around 2:30 in the afternoon and waited again in my car. It did feel different to yesterday. Then, I was caught up in the excitement of the moment and the awe of my discovery, as if I was meant to be there. This time, as I sat in my car, sitting low so as not to be seen, I felt a little stupid, guilty almost.

I’ve noticed in public people are looking at me. It’s just paranoia, but they all act as if I’m foolish. Who cares if I’ve been down that aisle three times because I can’t find the cheese? It’s not their business. But I have noticed that most people are stuck up in one way or another. Most adults anyway.

So it was very comforting to remember the reason I was there, I’d almost forgotten. This girl may well need my help, and I was going to find out why.

I just sat there for a while, dwelling on this. Soon I turned on the radio to pass the time. A car rounded the corner into the street at 3:25.

It caught me off guard, I hadn’t noticed or remembered this car from yesterday, but it must have been parked in the driveway in front of the station wagon. It stopped at the house. A man in his mid thirties stepped out of the driver’s seat. He was quite tall, dark hair, and not bad looking I guess. But he had something about him I didn’t quite trust. The sort of person you look at and can assume they wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with you in school. The man made his way around the car and opened one of the back doors.

I got the first good look at her since that day. The contrast between her and this man was gorgeous. She looked like I had remembered, except her hair was tied back and she was wearing a tiny school uniform. The dark green school bag she carried was almost as big as she was. She had a wide rimmed hat that hung back around her neck by a chord. She looked tired.

At that moment I felt the greatest urge to run out and hug her, talk to her, at least let her see me, so she’d know I hadn’t forgotten. But I couldn’t. I was trapped behind the unlocked doors of my own car.

It was then I realised that if I was going to help this girl, I had no idea how to go about it. But this thought swiftly made room for a new revelation. Something which, I must admit, has been a possibility weighing upon my mind ever since I first saw Monica in the bookshop.

I knew Monica before the party 7 years ago, she went to my high school. I don’t know if Jo ever knew this… actually I’m not even sure Monica did. What I hope neither of them knew is that I had a crush on Monica for a long time, it was a familiar situation, she liked bigger and better things. I was ready to forget about her after high school finished, and I was largely successful. But then she showed up that night, and I remembered very easily. She had had a lot to drink. I must have had even more. To be honest I can’t remember much about that night at all, but I have reason to believe something happened. Something out of character.

And now there is this girl. And I can see a remarkable resemblance. She’s the right age. So many things fit.

And she just happens to embody for me everything good left in the world. This possibility is so absurd, so incredible that even if it was real I don’t know if I could ever truly believe it. The thought of it fills me with a joy so great I could forget everything in this world just to consider it. She would love me, and I would love her, we should live together and never again lament the world. And it fills me with a terrible horror to consider everything it may mean. If she was my daughter, what on earth would I do? How would people react? How would I react? Could I live knowing this? And the thought also fills me with an overwhelming anger. How dare she exist without me knowing. How dare Monica, Monica and this fool she’s married. How dare everything and everyone keep us apart when we need each other so much?

But this is just speculation. I cannot think about this. I wont think about this.

I am more certain now that whatever problem this child is suffering from lies with her parents. I don’t trust this ‘father’ of hers. I wonder if he realises how lucky he is to be so close to this girl. I doubt it.

Monica returned later, I left when I saw her car. If they notice me my chances would drop greatly.

I will return, and I will find out more about this girl, I won’t give up on her. Though I do not know what I can do now, I’m sure that with time the answer will come to me.

I thank the internet for being so easy to talk to. I feel as though I can speak so much more confidently here than anywhere else, and I need that.

Parr

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