Rusted Memories | Teen Ink

Rusted Memories

July 2, 2009
By Miriam Gleckman SILVER, Chappaqua, New York
Miriam Gleckman SILVER, Chappaqua, New York
7 articles 0 photos 0 comments

She couldn’t remember how they got there. The room, so dark and familiar, was only visible through cracks between her fingers. Why was she here? She let the air blow out slowly from her lips. If theater was good for one thing, it’s good for controlling emotions. Too bad she hadn’t done a show in a year.

“…won second game, but, oh man, you should have seen it, I played so well. No, like, OK, listen so I saw the ball going out and everyone like just let it go and I just went for it. Like, all out. I dove and, look, I...” he got up and tried to mimic his heroic fall. She couldn’t help but smile. The image of him skidding across the court on his side was one she was well acquainted with. He probably spent more time on the ground during games than he did standing up. He was a very passionate playing. She laughed. Her head fell back, basking in rusted memory.
He read her with veteran eyes. He knew where this was going and he was trying very hard to avoid it. Don’t say it, she urged herself.
“So… yeah. I…” She could see that he was struggling to fill the silences. His fingers tensed. Her toes still hadn’t unclenched. Words had never been his strong suit.
“Merry Christmas, by the way. I didn’t get to tell you…”
“Whole family came again?”

“Ha, of course.”
Silence cuddled snuggly between them – as if the unfamiliar distance between their chairs wasn’t far enough.
She put her face into her palms. The smell of her breath got caught in her hands: alcohol lingered for a moment around her face. It dissipated slowly, eaten only by the dull light in the room.
The noise from outside the door was muffled by his stare. She knew that as soon as she brought her face from behind her hands he would be there. She knew that as soon as she shifted her gaze, those big blue eyes would be waiting. Just like always, she guessed. The only difference is this time she knew that as soon as she looked at him, for the first time, those eyes wouldn’t be hers.
She couldn’t remember how they got there. He doesn’t want you anymore, Chris, f***. Let it go. The words sounded so irrational to her now. If I try, she shouldn’t try, if I try to get him back…

We experience inner conflicts everyday
The decisions we make,
The actions we take,
Based on those inner conflict
Define who we are.
Well, who we are to those around us.
We can learn from our reactions
We can hope to change, to fix,
But every time we find that we are
facing another decision.

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