KEVIN STANIEC DOT COM

She had long curly red hair and big round eyes. Her lengthy long legs stretched strong with each stride as she casually stepped around the gallery. She seemed sophisticated, holding art in her arms. A friend introduced her as someone I should know but I had trouble remembering her name. Our conversation was succinct, skillfully playing on instinct. We were testing one another. It was a game.

The next time I saw her she had cut her hair simple short and styled like a pixie. For some reason it brought attention to her lips. We should have been perfect for each other but unfortunately were a step away from crazy in different directions.

Let’s hold hands and fall asleep.

My mother would take us to the matinee. We would wait in line with her as she purchased our tickets. Nothing feels better than the thick sweat of summer skin as you enter the cold crisp air conditioning. In the lobby an usher tears our tickets as we hold tight our soda, popcorn and candy. Walking down the hall, the sound of blockbuster films breaking through the thin theater walls. We would sit in the middle of the room anxious with anticipation waiting for the lights to dim. Cheering after every preview because we were that much closer to the feature film. And for an hour or more I would wander wild with my imagination following friends on their fanciful adventures across the silver screen.

And in the end – opening that audience exit, the unforgiving Saturday sun shining bright, boldly bringing us back to reality.

“It’s all in your head” he said.

I kept everything from our relationship. Emails. Letters. Notes. Receipts. Tickets. Polaroids. Photo booth strips. Cell phone pics. Gifts. I soon felt a faint distance twist. We were silently sitting in her car, lost, in a parking garage. I opened my bag and shared everything she had given me. I wanted to remind her of how we once used to be. She cried.

To this day I am still not sure why.

Months later, while talking on the phone, we decided it best to not see each other for a few days… Those days turned to weeks, months and years. I eventually threw those memories away. I sometimes wish I hadn’t.

Now I understand when you said I love you.

Using her index finger she traced around my seat as we sat on the steps of Symphony Hall. I looked over at her, curious.

She said softly “I want to remember this”.