Illusions

Teenage Me thought Teenage You was cute.

You had dark brown hair, just a shade or two lighter than black. Your smile could light up a room. Your attitude… Well, it was just a typical teenage boy’s do-not-care-about-anything attitude.

“What are you looking at?” Teenage You said.

“Nothing,” Teenage Me replied. “There’s a cockroach on the wall behind you. I was waiting to see if it jumped on your back.” It was a lie. I’d been staring at you, wanting to remember every part of your face, hoping my subconscious would recall your features in my dreams that night. Unaware of my lie, you jumped, brushing invisible creepy crawlies from your shoulder. You didn’t see my face flush with embarrassment at being caught staring at you.

Eventually, the weight of my stare was too much and you didn’t talk to me at all. We both moved on. My mind drifted to my next crush, another boy I wouldn’t admit my feelings for.

It was a surprise to run into you more than twenty years later, in a shopping centre neither of us frequented. Fate was the romanticised name for it.

“Hey…?” At first, I wasn’t sure it was you. Eventually my long stored memories of your face came back asking for confirmation it was you. Yet all my mouth could muster was ‘Hey’, as if you actually had any idea who I was.

“Uh, hi?” Your face gave it away: your brain did not remember me.

“Milly,” I said, trying to jog your memory.

“Milly! Of course!” But your eyes gave you away: You couldn’t place me although your brain was clicking over all your memories. “How are you? It must have been, oh, five years! Has it been that long already?”

“You were in my Social Studies class with Mr Plummer. Do you remember him? That bald spot he always tried to hide with a terrible combover?”

You laughed. “Oh yes, I remember him! He never liked me, kept comparing me to my brothers, who were some sort of geniuses.” You laughed again.

I smiled politely, my heart beating fast. It too remembered the nights I stayed awake wondering if you liked me. “How are your brothers?”

Your smile faded. “Uh, well, um… Sam died and uh, Jesse is a human rights lawyer currently trying to get the government to remove people from Nauru.” You looked sad.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. Although I had studied your face a thousand times, I had ignored your brothers.

“Yeah, it’s been tough,” you said, and I asked no more.

“Look, it’s been really great catching up…” I started, desperately wanting to ask you to join me for coffee and lunch.

“Same,” you said. I didn’t believe you.

“Uh, I’m just heading for lunch and I’m not meeting anyone. If you’re free…”

You glanced at your Apple Watch, tapping twice and looking at the results. “You know what? I am free for lunch.” Oh, that smile!

The past twenty years melted away over that lunch. I ordered blistered cherry tomatoes on sourdough bread with feta and avocado. You ordered a latte, BLT and a cherry chocolate cake for dessert. I raised my eyebrow.

“Cake fan?”

You looked sheepish. “Yeah. I’m not supposed to eat junk, but you know… I stress eat.”

We talked about what had happened in our lives since those heady days at school. As you spoke, my eyes gazed at your face like it had so long ago. There were a few wrinkles around your eyes, smile lines showing a fun-filled life. I smiled and I’m sure you thought I was smiling at the anecdote you were telling, but it was me comparing Teenage You with this version now before me. A few grey hairs sidelined that face I remembered, giving you an air of authority and maturity.

We finished lunch, both of us too nervous to shake hands and seal that chemistry I still felt.

“Look me up on Facebook!” You called as you walked away. As if I hadn’t looked you up a dozen times already. Now, you gave me permission to actually request your social media friendship and I could stalk your secrets.

“Wait!”

You stopped, cocking your head like a dog trying to understand its master.

I bit my lip, summoning courage I felt building inside. “I’m sorry, I’m about to make this really awkward.”

You smiled. My heart skipped a beat.

“Can I kiss you?”

You did not know how to respond. Here’s this mad woman you haven’t seen for twenty years suddenly asking permission to invade your personal space. Don’t think I didn’t notice the lack of wedding ring on your finger.

Eventually you smiled. “Do you always ask?”

“Well, no.”

You leaned forward and lightly brushed my lips with yours. Everything I had ever felt for you rushed into every organ in my body. A rush of adrenalin surged through me, manifesting into my lips engaging with yours. For a second, I thought I actually felt a spark just before you pulled away.

“Teenage Me is very happy right now,” I admitted.

“What about Adult You?” You said.

“Adult Me wants more,” my lips said before I could stop them.

You didn’t speak. You grabbed my hand and pulled me along until you found an unoccupied toilet for the disabled.

I raised my eyebrows. You shrugged. It was the best solution at the time.

We were passionate, we were fast, we were quiet. Nobody was waiting outside when we finally came out, our clothes askew, our hair messy.

One last wordless kiss and we parted.

I returned home to my husband, who was slouched on the beanbag holding the game controller, his thumbs working furiously with his eyes glued to the big screen television.

“Hey,” I said cheerfully. “You’ll never guess who I ran into today. Your asshole brother says you’re dead.”