That Girl
by Tee Willis
There it is. I peered up at the top floor of the apartment building and had to blink several times to make sure it was real. I walked up the stares with careful precision holding onto the black, chipped railing. I finally reached the top. I felt I had every right to hold up my nose with an air of superiority. I took out the golden key of opportunity and unlocked the door. That dreary brown door never looked so dazzling. I laid my hand against it to confirm its existence. “So there it is,” I said to myself, “completely tangible”. I took a deep breath. I breathed in the intoxicating aroma of the fresh paint and took a look around. I envisioned our furniture taking up the space, our load speakers vibrating the thin walls, the pictures scattered throughout the house, and the empty contents of our fridge. Nothing seemed better. The simplicity of our dreams boggled my mind, yet it all seemed overwhelmingly huge.
She tapped me on the shoulder awaking me from my blissful dream like state. I hugged her tightly expressing my excitement. I could feel it from her to, it was radiating through her eyes. She left me standing in that same spot and began to scamper through the apartment. I watched her in amazement as she examined every room so thoroughly, running her fingers delicately along the walls with a childlike grin upon her face. She came up to me with a luminous glow emitting from her face and whispered “perfection,” and ran outside.
I watched her in silent admiration and she glided gracefully down the stares. The thumps of her footsteps were like a captivating rhythm, her presence like a dance floor presenting itself to the dancers of the world. It made me think how far we had come. Here I was with my best friend, our own apartment, and freedom. “Freedom” I sighed. I suddenly felt so exhausted and the weight of my body like a burden. I slid down the walls and landed hard on the velvety smoothness of the carpet. My tranquil silence was rudely interrupted by the sound of a Mexican mother shouting in Spanish. I chuckled at the fact that I knew what she was saying and it made me reminisce about Spanish class.
High School. Golden Valley High School. We spent every waking moment pondering and planning how to escape the horrible obligations within its prison like gates. “Gross,” I murmured to myself. I found myself missing the depressing classrooms, the pathetic attempts of the teachers to create a positive learning environment, the quad with its lame DJs, and even the disgusting food stands that I spent all four years complaining about.
I remember the first moment I met her. For some reason that exact moment does not pose much importance to me as it would to most best friends. However, we are not like most best friends. What displays an extreme significance to me is when we started to get close and how I viewed her.
What can I say about her? She was that girl. God, you know, that girl whose stunningly exquisite features made heads turn. What I loved about her the most was that she failed to recognize this. The fact that she was completely oblivious to the wandering eyes that pierced her humble exterior and silently ravaged her innocent beauty with their revolting stare, always made me appreciate her even more. I always found it so amusing when people tried to label her. I would nod mechanically as usual but I always thought, “How could you put a label on something unique?” I watched her bustle about school. It always looked as if she timed her movements just right, she floated.
On countless occasions, I observed people become intoxicated by her boisterous laugh, infectious smile, and brilliant mind. Sometimes I almost found her flawless; almost. People would tell me “man, she is hot” and I would just blankly stare. It made me furious and I wanted to scream at them “sure, but I don’t think you know the depth of this girl, how brainy she really is, how talented, how giving, how thoughtful and just how amazing she is, because you have not taken the time to find out”.
Spanish class second period. The teachers irritating voice rang throughout my ears like the morning alarm clock. That class felt like a cancerous tumor, but that class is where my future began. She would always turn around to talk to me about our plans for college and how we wanted an apartment together. Back then, all of this seemed so inaccessible. The constant doubt of our parents, the depressing “no’s” that never failed to shatter our last shards of hope, and the responsibility that seemed too much to handle, all proved to be an obstacle in our desire for freedom.
“We made it” I said softly to myself. I leaned my head back against the wall and chuckled triumphantly.
See, that is how we are different from most best friends. Unlike most who have friendships clouded with lies and superficiality we are free to bask in a fulfilling companionship of profound depth and honesty. See, and unlike most best friends, we made it.
She came back into the apartment building and eyed my blank expression suspiciously. I scanned her naturally elegant beauty as she blew her lightly colored bangs out of her face. We stepped out onto the steps and began to talk incessantly once again trapping ourselves in that secure world that no one else has ever been able to breach. I peered into the bottomless pits of her greenish-blue cavernous eyes that burned with intensity and attentiveness, and I appreciated her even more. God, that girl. The girl I rely on to keep my sanity intact, the one I come to talk to, the one who is irreplaceable.