MariasDitch
Fish
THIS IS NOT A LOVE STORY
A Story Written by Me for Class
Warning: 3000+ words
“Ever since I was a child, I swear that I've dreamed about you. There's one I remember better than all the others; we were at a football game, the stadium lights bright and shining behind us. I didn't know you then, but for some reason, maybe fate, you still appeared to me. That dream left me with a feeling I can't describe, but it's the same feeling you give me now. I hid it close to my heart, away from everything else, but I can hold it no more. This may come as a shock, but you are the one I've loved all these past years. You make me feel like an ocean made warm from the sun.”
“Harold, I don't know what to say.”
“And Alice, my love for you is as vast as all the oceans combined.”
“Harold –,”
At this point, Alice's hands were already resting gently in Harold's, but after his heartfelt speech, Harold gripped her hands tightly. The pair were sitting side-by-side in a desolate corner of Central Park just as the sunset hit the top of the skyscrapers and bathed everything in an ethereal twilight glow. It was the beginning of fall; the leaves were just beginning to fall from their place in the sky. The bench was situated next to an old and gnarled oak tree, which casted long shadows on the uneven park ground. The bright yellow leaves of the oak tree hung fiercely to their branches, at least until a strong October wind came to break them away. Luckily for Harold, that time was not now. The air sat comfortably, the temperature of a warm summer breeze. A welcome gust of air ruffled the fall foliage around them, along with Harold's rowdy hair, which sat on his head like a brown halo. Alice's eyes watched it in bemusedly, while Harold had much bigger things on his mind. He dropped Alice's hands, and fell to one knee. He pulled out a small, black box, took a deep breath, and opened it. Inside nestled an ornate wedding band that shimmered in the tangerine glow of dusk. An orange sapphire was embedded in the silver jewelry. Alice's breath caught. “I know that we sort of skipped over the whole dating thing, but come on, Alice, we've known each other for 10 years now. So Alice, my love, will you marry me?”
The dream shattered. “Oh Harold this really is sweet of you, and you are honestly a swell boy (my best friend if I'm being honest) but you know I'm a giant lesbian, right? I'm not sure how you could have forgotten this. I literally wear flannel every single day. I'm wearing flannel now. I'm the gay person they put in Friends to diversify it. Heck, Harold, you were there for my break-up with Allyson!” Flustered with her best friend's actions, Alice said all of this quickly, first hopping up from her position on the park bench, then pacing in front of the it like Bush did after the economic collapse.
Poor Harold was still on the ground, holding the ring up hopefully, though his posture had drooped significantly. “Yeah, but I thought that maybe didn't matter much?”
“No Harold, no. You can't just stop being a lesbian. It's not a religion you can convert from!”
“But what about that night? In Vegas?”
“Harold, we were both drunk. And if I recall correctly, that night you also tried to breastfeed a baby gorilla. Stranger things have happened.”
The boy in front of her looked pitiful, like a sick puppy begging for scraps. “Alice, I...” he began to say, but the words evaded him before he could speak.
“Harold...” Alice teased back. If she was to be honest, Harold's actions had the tendency to irritate her. In her eyes, he was overly emotional and quite fickle; she never knew what might upset him. But that didn't change the fact that he was her best friend. She stuck out her hand to help him up; after a slight pause, he took it. With a quick jerk from Alice, Harold was back on his feet. It didn't take much to lift the slight boy. Harold released Alice's hand and wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve. His head was tilted towards the ground, refusing to initiate eye contact with his friend. To Alice, the whole event was surreal. Because of this, she acted on instinct for a way to cheer her friend up: by suggesting an alcoholic beverage. Alice slung her arm over Harold's shoulder. The weight change made him stumble slightly. “Come on pal, let's go get drunk.”
Had Harold been a week older, Alice's plan would have worked. However, that wasn't the case, and Harold and Alice found themselves kicked out of every bar they tried to sneak into. Harold's boyish mien didn't help their case either. Instead, the pair settled for a local coffee shop; Alice was disappointed with the lack of alcohol, but for Harold, she suffered through it. The shop itself was a start-up project by a student at Harold's college. It had a retro theme, complete with booths and a jukebox machine. Along with coffee, it sold frothy milkshakes and thick malts. The walls were made with a dark, burgundy wood, and all of the furniture was a deep red, including the chair that Harold was sitting on now. Popular with both an old crown and college kids, it was a place Alice knew Harold could relax.
Harold sat in a corner booth with his head resting in the palms of his hands as he waited for Alice to come back with their drinks. After a few minutes, she came back, setting a hot chocolate in front of Harold, then setting her own coffee down before sliding into her side of the booth. Alice sipped her coffee and watched Harold. Soon her mug was empty and Harold's drink had grown lukewarm. The awkwardness from Harold's proposal hung thickly around them and suffocated any conversation that might have happened.
Surprisingly, it was Harold that finally broke the silence. He removed his hands from his face and pushed his drink to the side. Alice followed its path with her eyes, until Harold spoke and her attention was called back to him. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but it would be easier if you weren't here. Just looking at you is a reminder of everything I don't want to think about.”
Alice's first thought was to respond with a snarky comment, but when what Harold had said sunk in, her eyes immediately widened in shock. In their relationship, she was the leader. Harold's timid personality was more suited towards following, and that's what he did. Alice was the sun, and he, a satellite. The proposal earlier today was surprising enough, but it was horribly out-of-character for Harold to speak out like that and ask her to leave. It was then that Alice realized how serious the situation was.
She could see it, too. With his hands gone, Harold gave Alice the ability to see his face again. Already an overworked college student, the added stress of the last few hours had taken their toll on Harold. Dark, baggy skin encircled his eyes and his face looked more gaunt than usual. His hands were curled into fists, which were pressed down on the table between them. His mouth was a thin line, a knife wound on his pale face. Alice opened her mouth to speak, but Harold cut her off.
“And don't try to say anything funny or I am literally going to flip the table.”
Alice shut her mouth, then after a bit of thought, opened it again. “I'm sorry; I didn't realize how much this meant to you.”
“Of course it meant a lot to me! I'm not you, Alice. I don't party everyday! I don't get a new girlfriend every other week! There's hundreds of people other than me you could hang with, but Alice, you're the only one I have. You're the one that means a lot to me!” As he spoke, Harold's voice grew louder until it got to a point where other patrons of the restaurant began to glance over at him.
Alice purposely dropped her voice to a low whisper. “You're right Harold, and you'd think after years of friendship, I would know that. I don't, however, and you know why? I'm not you, unfortunately,” she chuckled darkly. “Maybe I would have a better future if I was more like you. And I'm sorry; you deserve a better friend than I,” she said, cupping her hands over Harold's fists. “I need to pay more attention to your feelings. You're not me.”
Harold shook his head. “Oh Alice, we're both a mess.”
“And you know, there's other girls out there. For both of us!”
Harold sighed. “Yeah I suppose you're right. At my age, looking for romance is silly. I'm content just hanging out with my best friend.”
“Are you sure? Because there's this girl eying you from a few tables away.”
“I changed my mind. Show me.”
Alice tilted her head to a table behind Harold. Sitting there was an abnormally average woman, hard to find in a place like New York City. She wore an over-sized sweatshirt, like she was trying to hide her under the bright lights of the coffee shop. It hung off her body loosely; her frame was so small. If a strong gust of wind happened to blow by, it looked like she would be carried away. She was slumped down in her seat slightly. A pair of thick glasses sat on her nose. Alice caught her eyes and the girl looked away. “Turn around, she's sitting two booths behind us,” she said to Harold.
Harold followed Alice's instructions and turned to look at the girl she pointed out. Thankfully, the girl was absorbed with something on her phone and did not noticed Harold's gaze. He turned back to Alice, and with a great sign, spoke: “I'm going to talk to her. I have nothing else to lose. How do I look?” Harold straightened his shirt collar.
“A solid three and a half.”
“Oh shut up,” And with that, Harold stood up and tried to suavely walk over to the girl's table. He knocked over a salt shaker and profusely apologized for about five minutes. The girl watched him, her body convulsing slightly in silent laugher. After wiping up all of the salt with a spare napkin, Harold shot the girl a shaky smile. She gestured him to sit down. They talked long enough for Alice to finish two more cups of coffee. A few times she stole a peek at her friend and hid a small smile underneath her palm. Harold happened to be abnormally tall, and this new girl was no slouch either. It may of not been a match made it heaven, but it certainly was closer to the ceiling. When the moon rose over the city's skyscrapers, the girl hastily wrote a few numbers on a napkin and pressed it into Harold's hand, letting their hands linger together for a fleeting moment. Patting him on the shoulder, she left, breezing past Alice. After the door closed shut, Harold slid back into the chair opposite of Alice.
“Look what I got!” He held up the napkin. On it was written a name, Constance, with a phone number underneath.
“Wow! Seven whole numbers!”
“Yeah, I know! We might be going to the movies sometime soon. I was afraid maybe it wouldn't work out. She seemed a little socially awkward.”
“If she is that'll be wonderful. You'll have something in common.”
“I'm a little surprised, to be honest. No one wants to date a nerd.”
“That's not true! I dated an astronomer once. She named a star after me!
“Oh really? What's it called?”
“Butt-munch. It was a bad break-up for both of us.”
The two continued their idle conversations for a while more until Alice grew bored and excused herself. Harold walked her home. Their apartments were next to each other. After saying good-bye, Alice retired to her home and Harold was left alone. He opened his own apartment door and threw his coat on the nearest couch. Shutting the door behind him with his foot, Harold stumbled into his room. The time nearing midnight, Harold flopped into his bed, not bothering to take his clothes off. He turned over and plopped the pillow on top of his head. Just as he was drifting off, his cell-phone buzzed. With a groan, he rolled onto his back and looked at his phone with strained eyes. The blue light dimly illuminated the room and made it hard to see. Wait, what's that – a message from Constance? Already? He opened it. It contained three words: Netflix and chill? Harold nearly fell out of bed.
The next morning, Alice was in Harold's apartment, fixing his shirt collar. As she patted down his wrinkled shirt, she asked him a question. “So, what's the plan again?”
Harold took a deep breath. “I'm going over to her apartment and we're going to watch a movie. That's it. Nothing else. Yep.”
“How far is it?”
“About four blocks.”
“Oh, that's not far. Let me walk you there,” Alice replied as she shoved Harold out of the apartment. She knew that if Harold went alone he would never make it. They stepped out into the brisk October sunlight together. Alice used one hand to shield her eyes from the sun and the other to drag Harold along. He was muttering incoherently under his breath. The usual. They walked the short distance to Constance's apartment. A few minutes later, they arrived at a brick apartment complex. Ivy vines grew up the sides of the home. In the front yard, a ratty garden was visible. Alice looked down at the address scribbled down on her hand, and then at the worn building in front of her. Harold shuffled nervously next to her. He was still holding Alice's hand. Alice turned to speak to him. “Well bud, this looks like the –,”
A loud slam cut her off. Shocked, she spun her head towards the source of the noise: Constance's front door. The woman standing in the doorway looked livid. Her face was red and splotchy, a sharp contrast to how she looked the night before. Alice instantly realized something was wrong. Harold did not. “Hello Constance; is that blush you're wearing?”
Alice looked at Constance. The angry woman's eyes were fixated on Alice and Harold. Alice glanced downward. She was still holding hands with Harold. Oh. “I know what this looks like,” she began, “but you should know that I happen to be a lesbian.” She was suddenly overcome with a sense of deja vu.
Constance ignored her. She marched up to Harold, then gestured wildly at Alice. “You told me she was your sister!” Alice gave Harold a disapproving look. He shrugged. “Why are you holding hands with your sister?' she shrieked.
Alice stepped in front of Harold, letting go of his hand at the same time. There was no way he could handle a screaming woman by himself. He could barely handle his own mother. “Yeah, I'm not his sister,” she stuck out her hand. “Alice, best friend, nice to meet you.”
Constance swatted Alice's hand away and maneuvered herself until she was face to face with Harold. “I don't know what you're playing at with your 'sister,' Harold, but you know I ran away from that church in Utah for a reason! I'm done with polygamy! So it's either her or me, got it?”
Harold was stunned. A cry from Alice, “Why don't people believe I'm a lesbian?” faintly intruded his thoughts.
“The choice is obvious,” he replied, voice shaking. His body visibly tightened and at his sides, his hands clenched into fists. “Alice will always be my number one.” Overcome with emotion, he ran off, leaving the two stunned woman behind. Harold couldn't remember a time he ran faster.
His feet carried him subconsciously carried him through the winding streets of the city. He navigated the streets carelessly, like a deer in suburban Pennsylvania. And that's how he ended up here: sitting on an old park under a gnarled oak tree and contemplating every single choice in his life that ultimately lead him to this exact moment.
It didn't take long for Alice to find him. The crunching leaves underneath her shoes alerted Harold to her presence. He watched as Alice neared the bench and sat down next to him, her weight causing the bench to shift slightly beneath them. She left a few inches between there legs. “Hey,” was the only word she spoke to Harold.
“How'd you find me?”
“I installed a tracker into your phone.”
“Oh. Honestly I was hoping you were gonna say something like 'Because I know you so well, Harold!' or maybe 'It's my best friend telepathy!'” he said sarcastically.
Alice bumped Harold's shoulder with her own. “Oh, you know I was only kidding! I know everything about you, silly! I knew you were gonna be here,” she said playfully. However, her next sentence carried a much solemner tone. “So, why'd you run off anyway?”
“Just couldn't take it. I was just caught up in all of the emotions, and Constance wasn't really who I thought she was.”
“Well, I of course she wasn't. You only knew her for one day. And on another note, she was obviously only a foil of my character!”
“Wait, what?”
“Nevermind. Anyway, what you said back there made me really, really happy. About choosing me over any other girl, I mean.” A big smile stretched across Alice's face; she couldn't help it.
“Of course, Alice. You're the most important person in my life,” Harold grabbed Alice's hands and scooted himself closer to her.
Now, if this was a love story, Harold would lean in for a kiss, which Alice – after a bit of consideration – would meet him half-way. They would make-out that park bench like a couple on their honeymoon. Years later, they would get married at Central Park. Friends would talk about how cute they are, how they meet, and so on. Alice would give birth to twins. They would grow old together until Harold took his last breath in a sterile hospital room. Alice would be holding her husband's hand when the light finally left his eyes.
But this is not a love story.
This is a story about a friendship between a boy and a girl. This is a story about a lesbian and the boy who loved her. This is the story of Alice and Harold.
Alice and Harold's story ends like this:
“You know Harold, maybe we should get married.”
“Huh? Alice, what do you mean?”
“Now, here me out on this one, but I heard that getting married has some pretty good tax benefits.”
This is not a love story, and that's okay.
A Story Written by Me for Class
Warning: 3000+ words
“Ever since I was a child, I swear that I've dreamed about you. There's one I remember better than all the others; we were at a football game, the stadium lights bright and shining behind us. I didn't know you then, but for some reason, maybe fate, you still appeared to me. That dream left me with a feeling I can't describe, but it's the same feeling you give me now. I hid it close to my heart, away from everything else, but I can hold it no more. This may come as a shock, but you are the one I've loved all these past years. You make me feel like an ocean made warm from the sun.”
“Harold, I don't know what to say.”
“And Alice, my love for you is as vast as all the oceans combined.”
“Harold –,”
At this point, Alice's hands were already resting gently in Harold's, but after his heartfelt speech, Harold gripped her hands tightly. The pair were sitting side-by-side in a desolate corner of Central Park just as the sunset hit the top of the skyscrapers and bathed everything in an ethereal twilight glow. It was the beginning of fall; the leaves were just beginning to fall from their place in the sky. The bench was situated next to an old and gnarled oak tree, which casted long shadows on the uneven park ground. The bright yellow leaves of the oak tree hung fiercely to their branches, at least until a strong October wind came to break them away. Luckily for Harold, that time was not now. The air sat comfortably, the temperature of a warm summer breeze. A welcome gust of air ruffled the fall foliage around them, along with Harold's rowdy hair, which sat on his head like a brown halo. Alice's eyes watched it in bemusedly, while Harold had much bigger things on his mind. He dropped Alice's hands, and fell to one knee. He pulled out a small, black box, took a deep breath, and opened it. Inside nestled an ornate wedding band that shimmered in the tangerine glow of dusk. An orange sapphire was embedded in the silver jewelry. Alice's breath caught. “I know that we sort of skipped over the whole dating thing, but come on, Alice, we've known each other for 10 years now. So Alice, my love, will you marry me?”
The dream shattered. “Oh Harold this really is sweet of you, and you are honestly a swell boy (my best friend if I'm being honest) but you know I'm a giant lesbian, right? I'm not sure how you could have forgotten this. I literally wear flannel every single day. I'm wearing flannel now. I'm the gay person they put in Friends to diversify it. Heck, Harold, you were there for my break-up with Allyson!” Flustered with her best friend's actions, Alice said all of this quickly, first hopping up from her position on the park bench, then pacing in front of the it like Bush did after the economic collapse.
Poor Harold was still on the ground, holding the ring up hopefully, though his posture had drooped significantly. “Yeah, but I thought that maybe didn't matter much?”
“No Harold, no. You can't just stop being a lesbian. It's not a religion you can convert from!”
“But what about that night? In Vegas?”
“Harold, we were both drunk. And if I recall correctly, that night you also tried to breastfeed a baby gorilla. Stranger things have happened.”
The boy in front of her looked pitiful, like a sick puppy begging for scraps. “Alice, I...” he began to say, but the words evaded him before he could speak.
“Harold...” Alice teased back. If she was to be honest, Harold's actions had the tendency to irritate her. In her eyes, he was overly emotional and quite fickle; she never knew what might upset him. But that didn't change the fact that he was her best friend. She stuck out her hand to help him up; after a slight pause, he took it. With a quick jerk from Alice, Harold was back on his feet. It didn't take much to lift the slight boy. Harold released Alice's hand and wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve. His head was tilted towards the ground, refusing to initiate eye contact with his friend. To Alice, the whole event was surreal. Because of this, she acted on instinct for a way to cheer her friend up: by suggesting an alcoholic beverage. Alice slung her arm over Harold's shoulder. The weight change made him stumble slightly. “Come on pal, let's go get drunk.”
Had Harold been a week older, Alice's plan would have worked. However, that wasn't the case, and Harold and Alice found themselves kicked out of every bar they tried to sneak into. Harold's boyish mien didn't help their case either. Instead, the pair settled for a local coffee shop; Alice was disappointed with the lack of alcohol, but for Harold, she suffered through it. The shop itself was a start-up project by a student at Harold's college. It had a retro theme, complete with booths and a jukebox machine. Along with coffee, it sold frothy milkshakes and thick malts. The walls were made with a dark, burgundy wood, and all of the furniture was a deep red, including the chair that Harold was sitting on now. Popular with both an old crown and college kids, it was a place Alice knew Harold could relax.
Harold sat in a corner booth with his head resting in the palms of his hands as he waited for Alice to come back with their drinks. After a few minutes, she came back, setting a hot chocolate in front of Harold, then setting her own coffee down before sliding into her side of the booth. Alice sipped her coffee and watched Harold. Soon her mug was empty and Harold's drink had grown lukewarm. The awkwardness from Harold's proposal hung thickly around them and suffocated any conversation that might have happened.
Surprisingly, it was Harold that finally broke the silence. He removed his hands from his face and pushed his drink to the side. Alice followed its path with her eyes, until Harold spoke and her attention was called back to him. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but it would be easier if you weren't here. Just looking at you is a reminder of everything I don't want to think about.”
Alice's first thought was to respond with a snarky comment, but when what Harold had said sunk in, her eyes immediately widened in shock. In their relationship, she was the leader. Harold's timid personality was more suited towards following, and that's what he did. Alice was the sun, and he, a satellite. The proposal earlier today was surprising enough, but it was horribly out-of-character for Harold to speak out like that and ask her to leave. It was then that Alice realized how serious the situation was.
She could see it, too. With his hands gone, Harold gave Alice the ability to see his face again. Already an overworked college student, the added stress of the last few hours had taken their toll on Harold. Dark, baggy skin encircled his eyes and his face looked more gaunt than usual. His hands were curled into fists, which were pressed down on the table between them. His mouth was a thin line, a knife wound on his pale face. Alice opened her mouth to speak, but Harold cut her off.
“And don't try to say anything funny or I am literally going to flip the table.”
Alice shut her mouth, then after a bit of thought, opened it again. “I'm sorry; I didn't realize how much this meant to you.”
“Of course it meant a lot to me! I'm not you, Alice. I don't party everyday! I don't get a new girlfriend every other week! There's hundreds of people other than me you could hang with, but Alice, you're the only one I have. You're the one that means a lot to me!” As he spoke, Harold's voice grew louder until it got to a point where other patrons of the restaurant began to glance over at him.
Alice purposely dropped her voice to a low whisper. “You're right Harold, and you'd think after years of friendship, I would know that. I don't, however, and you know why? I'm not you, unfortunately,” she chuckled darkly. “Maybe I would have a better future if I was more like you. And I'm sorry; you deserve a better friend than I,” she said, cupping her hands over Harold's fists. “I need to pay more attention to your feelings. You're not me.”
Harold shook his head. “Oh Alice, we're both a mess.”
“And you know, there's other girls out there. For both of us!”
Harold sighed. “Yeah I suppose you're right. At my age, looking for romance is silly. I'm content just hanging out with my best friend.”
“Are you sure? Because there's this girl eying you from a few tables away.”
“I changed my mind. Show me.”
Alice tilted her head to a table behind Harold. Sitting there was an abnormally average woman, hard to find in a place like New York City. She wore an over-sized sweatshirt, like she was trying to hide her under the bright lights of the coffee shop. It hung off her body loosely; her frame was so small. If a strong gust of wind happened to blow by, it looked like she would be carried away. She was slumped down in her seat slightly. A pair of thick glasses sat on her nose. Alice caught her eyes and the girl looked away. “Turn around, she's sitting two booths behind us,” she said to Harold.
Harold followed Alice's instructions and turned to look at the girl she pointed out. Thankfully, the girl was absorbed with something on her phone and did not noticed Harold's gaze. He turned back to Alice, and with a great sign, spoke: “I'm going to talk to her. I have nothing else to lose. How do I look?” Harold straightened his shirt collar.
“A solid three and a half.”
“Oh shut up,” And with that, Harold stood up and tried to suavely walk over to the girl's table. He knocked over a salt shaker and profusely apologized for about five minutes. The girl watched him, her body convulsing slightly in silent laugher. After wiping up all of the salt with a spare napkin, Harold shot the girl a shaky smile. She gestured him to sit down. They talked long enough for Alice to finish two more cups of coffee. A few times she stole a peek at her friend and hid a small smile underneath her palm. Harold happened to be abnormally tall, and this new girl was no slouch either. It may of not been a match made it heaven, but it certainly was closer to the ceiling. When the moon rose over the city's skyscrapers, the girl hastily wrote a few numbers on a napkin and pressed it into Harold's hand, letting their hands linger together for a fleeting moment. Patting him on the shoulder, she left, breezing past Alice. After the door closed shut, Harold slid back into the chair opposite of Alice.
“Look what I got!” He held up the napkin. On it was written a name, Constance, with a phone number underneath.
“Wow! Seven whole numbers!”
“Yeah, I know! We might be going to the movies sometime soon. I was afraid maybe it wouldn't work out. She seemed a little socially awkward.”
“If she is that'll be wonderful. You'll have something in common.”
“I'm a little surprised, to be honest. No one wants to date a nerd.”
“That's not true! I dated an astronomer once. She named a star after me!
“Oh really? What's it called?”
“Butt-munch. It was a bad break-up for both of us.”
The two continued their idle conversations for a while more until Alice grew bored and excused herself. Harold walked her home. Their apartments were next to each other. After saying good-bye, Alice retired to her home and Harold was left alone. He opened his own apartment door and threw his coat on the nearest couch. Shutting the door behind him with his foot, Harold stumbled into his room. The time nearing midnight, Harold flopped into his bed, not bothering to take his clothes off. He turned over and plopped the pillow on top of his head. Just as he was drifting off, his cell-phone buzzed. With a groan, he rolled onto his back and looked at his phone with strained eyes. The blue light dimly illuminated the room and made it hard to see. Wait, what's that – a message from Constance? Already? He opened it. It contained three words: Netflix and chill? Harold nearly fell out of bed.
The next morning, Alice was in Harold's apartment, fixing his shirt collar. As she patted down his wrinkled shirt, she asked him a question. “So, what's the plan again?”
Harold took a deep breath. “I'm going over to her apartment and we're going to watch a movie. That's it. Nothing else. Yep.”
“How far is it?”
“About four blocks.”
“Oh, that's not far. Let me walk you there,” Alice replied as she shoved Harold out of the apartment. She knew that if Harold went alone he would never make it. They stepped out into the brisk October sunlight together. Alice used one hand to shield her eyes from the sun and the other to drag Harold along. He was muttering incoherently under his breath. The usual. They walked the short distance to Constance's apartment. A few minutes later, they arrived at a brick apartment complex. Ivy vines grew up the sides of the home. In the front yard, a ratty garden was visible. Alice looked down at the address scribbled down on her hand, and then at the worn building in front of her. Harold shuffled nervously next to her. He was still holding Alice's hand. Alice turned to speak to him. “Well bud, this looks like the –,”
A loud slam cut her off. Shocked, she spun her head towards the source of the noise: Constance's front door. The woman standing in the doorway looked livid. Her face was red and splotchy, a sharp contrast to how she looked the night before. Alice instantly realized something was wrong. Harold did not. “Hello Constance; is that blush you're wearing?”
Alice looked at Constance. The angry woman's eyes were fixated on Alice and Harold. Alice glanced downward. She was still holding hands with Harold. Oh. “I know what this looks like,” she began, “but you should know that I happen to be a lesbian.” She was suddenly overcome with a sense of deja vu.
Constance ignored her. She marched up to Harold, then gestured wildly at Alice. “You told me she was your sister!” Alice gave Harold a disapproving look. He shrugged. “Why are you holding hands with your sister?' she shrieked.
Alice stepped in front of Harold, letting go of his hand at the same time. There was no way he could handle a screaming woman by himself. He could barely handle his own mother. “Yeah, I'm not his sister,” she stuck out her hand. “Alice, best friend, nice to meet you.”
Constance swatted Alice's hand away and maneuvered herself until she was face to face with Harold. “I don't know what you're playing at with your 'sister,' Harold, but you know I ran away from that church in Utah for a reason! I'm done with polygamy! So it's either her or me, got it?”
Harold was stunned. A cry from Alice, “Why don't people believe I'm a lesbian?” faintly intruded his thoughts.
“The choice is obvious,” he replied, voice shaking. His body visibly tightened and at his sides, his hands clenched into fists. “Alice will always be my number one.” Overcome with emotion, he ran off, leaving the two stunned woman behind. Harold couldn't remember a time he ran faster.
His feet carried him subconsciously carried him through the winding streets of the city. He navigated the streets carelessly, like a deer in suburban Pennsylvania. And that's how he ended up here: sitting on an old park under a gnarled oak tree and contemplating every single choice in his life that ultimately lead him to this exact moment.
It didn't take long for Alice to find him. The crunching leaves underneath her shoes alerted Harold to her presence. He watched as Alice neared the bench and sat down next to him, her weight causing the bench to shift slightly beneath them. She left a few inches between there legs. “Hey,” was the only word she spoke to Harold.
“How'd you find me?”
“I installed a tracker into your phone.”
“Oh. Honestly I was hoping you were gonna say something like 'Because I know you so well, Harold!' or maybe 'It's my best friend telepathy!'” he said sarcastically.
Alice bumped Harold's shoulder with her own. “Oh, you know I was only kidding! I know everything about you, silly! I knew you were gonna be here,” she said playfully. However, her next sentence carried a much solemner tone. “So, why'd you run off anyway?”
“Just couldn't take it. I was just caught up in all of the emotions, and Constance wasn't really who I thought she was.”
“Well, I of course she wasn't. You only knew her for one day. And on another note, she was obviously only a foil of my character!”
“Wait, what?”
“Nevermind. Anyway, what you said back there made me really, really happy. About choosing me over any other girl, I mean.” A big smile stretched across Alice's face; she couldn't help it.
“Of course, Alice. You're the most important person in my life,” Harold grabbed Alice's hands and scooted himself closer to her.
Now, if this was a love story, Harold would lean in for a kiss, which Alice – after a bit of consideration – would meet him half-way. They would make-out that park bench like a couple on their honeymoon. Years later, they would get married at Central Park. Friends would talk about how cute they are, how they meet, and so on. Alice would give birth to twins. They would grow old together until Harold took his last breath in a sterile hospital room. Alice would be holding her husband's hand when the light finally left his eyes.
But this is not a love story.
This is a story about a friendship between a boy and a girl. This is a story about a lesbian and the boy who loved her. This is the story of Alice and Harold.
Alice and Harold's story ends like this:
“You know Harold, maybe we should get married.”
“Huh? Alice, what do you mean?”
“Now, here me out on this one, but I heard that getting married has some pretty good tax benefits.”
This is not a love story, and that's okay.
