Endless Loop
She sat in her bed looking at his high
school photo. It was 3:27 a.m. Her cat was asleep. Her bedroom ficus was dead,
its shriveled leaves brown and dry as the stacks of old newspapers lining her
floor.
He'd been their school's quarterback. She'd been second clarinet in the band.
They went on one date, during their sophomore year. It didn't go well. Still,
she couldn't erase him. He was stuck in her mind like a tune on an endless
loop. Now, five years after graduation, she was staring at his photo, again.
Since graduation, she'd seen him twice, though she'd looked for him often.
She'd leave her desk job as a secretary primarily tasked with filing overdue
loans and look for him in downtown bars or shops. She searched for him in
bookstores and boutiques. Once she thought she'd seen him at a corner waiting
for a green light, but it was someone else, a mirage of her past.
The first time she actually saw him was at the city's 4th of July parade. He
was across the street, with his wife, Julie, a girl from their class, the girl
he'd started dating after their one date, the girl he kept dating, the girl he
married.
They were smiling like ice cream. He had his right arm around her as she held
their toddler, a son, she guessed, wearing a red, white, and blue jumper.
The next time she saw him was in a Starbucks, today. He was five customers in
front of her. She stood in line behind a big guy, maybe a construction worker
from his neon yellow, high-visibility safety vest and hard hat. Each time the
big guy shuffled left or right, she tacked accordingly to stay hidden.
The line moved up one. He'd ordered and walked to the pick-up line. She hid
some more.
"Order for Sam. Venti black and small pumpkin spice latte, decaf, light
foam," cried the barista.
He got his drinks and left, never looking back.
She followed him and watched as he got into his Volvo SUV with the car seat in
back. She almost called out to him, his name crawling from the depths of her
throat before ending in a hiss at her tongue. As he drove off, she read the
bumper sticker: Child on Board.
"That could have been my life," she mumbled to herself as she stared
at his photo. "Enough," she shouted, waking up her cat, as she threw
the picture facedown. Then she picked it
up and stared at his photo, again.
about the author
teve Gerson writes poetry and flash about life's dissonance. He has published in many journals plus his 11 chapbooks: Once Planed Straight; Viral; And the Land Dreams Darkly; The 13th Floor; What Is Isn’t; There Is a Season; Have Not; Who Am I Today; Dystopia; Grim; Through Shadows
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