Brittany pulled into my driveway a little after eleven Saturday morning. After two months of separation, that old, familiar adrenaline rush flooded through me, the tenser kind that I felt the first semester of junior year, when she was still a mystery and every word spoken to her was a struggle. She hasn't gotten any less beautiful. In these two months she's become a myth of sorts, a mere mental photograph grainy and faded, a distant idea of a person. Every second spent that day I cherished her tangibility, her thereness. I soaked up her laughter and her glasses and the shape of her nose and the freckles on her shoulders because I need to remember those details until we see each other again.
My mom's car was packed with five people, my mom, Brittany, my sister, her friend, and myself. I figured the two-hour trip would be fraught with unnerving silence and clumsy conversation, but Brittany really hit it off with my family. We talked about lighthearted, frivolous things, like TLC and the cancelling of the school paper and the inconveniences of college life, all while the Foo Fighters soothed us with an acoustic version of "Everlong" on the radio.
I've never been to Frightfest at Six Flags before, and jeez was it an experience. The first half of the day we spent, of course, on the roller coasters. Brittany is hilarious when she's terrified, even more hilarious when it's in a haunted house, but that didn't come until the sun fell. My god, we laughed so hard. We perused the shops, indulged in ridiculously expensive ice cream, and almost broke our necks on the rough wooden roller coasters.
Things got even more fun when the sun went down and Frightfest officially began. People dressed as ghouls and zombies follow you while you obliviously walk on, and then scare the shit out of you by screaming in an eerie, otherworldly way. Brittany and I were chased by a masked man with a chainsaw, which is always a fun time. I can't even tell you how many times she was scared out of her mind by those people. I applaud the actors who do this, because they really get into it, and they're so sneaky that you never know when they're gonna jump at you.
I think the highlight of the whole day was definitely the haunted houses. They are rated by how frightening they are, so I insisted that we only go through the most terrifying. And they did not disappoint. People even scarier than the zombies and ghosts out in the park hide in corners and jump out at you, grab at your feet, whisper creepily in your ear. We crawled through dark spaces, pushed our way through these inflated black walls that would make a claustrophobic person have a serious mental breakdown, and navigated seemingly endless mazes that were designed to mindfuck us by making us go in circles and see the same person, who would greet us with an unsettling laugh, until we actually made progress. The greatest part was how easily scared Brittany is. She clung to me the entire time, making me take the lead, arms wrapped around me tightly, a physical closeness we'd never shared before.
I could go into so many specifics, but there are too many to mention here. The roller coasters were just as thrilling as I remember them, the attractions were effective, and the day was too damn short. The trip back home was void of conversation, everybody asleep but me. I watched the headlights sliced through the blackness and put up with my sister's friend snoring quietly. When we stopped at a gas station, Brittany told me that since I was in the middle seat and therefore couldn't really get comfortable enough for a nap, I could rest on her shoulder. So I did. I scooted close to her, our legs pressed together, and fell into a light, broken sleep with my head on her arm while she slept as well.
I only managed grab solid sleep for about fifteen minutes, then I laid there, breathing in her fruity perfume, its potency weakened, but not soured, by the sweat of the day. I wanted so desperately to run my hand over her legs, even though the sensuality of such an action would be dulled by the denim covering them. I wanted to grab the hand sandwiched between her knees and feel every inch of pale skin smoothed and perfected by youth. I gave up on sleep eventually, mostly because the urge to touch her was driving me insane, and took my head from her shoulder and sat there in the darkness, contemplating the fact that the fifteen minutes I spent so physically connected to her were a rarity; I don't experience that with anyone, just being close in that way. I watched her sleep, which sounds incredibly creepy, but it warmed me to see her look so still and so peaceful. Somehow people just look so different when they're asleep. Innocent, desirable, adorable. Another want crept up on me--I wanted to plant a kiss on her cheek.
That longing to feel the contours of her body, to know what it's like to touch another girl, pestered me throughout the entire trip home. It's okay. I don't plan on acting on those desires. I respect Brittany, and I've recognized my boundaries. I'm not some sexual predator, though the strength of that yearning unsettled me a bit. I dwelt on it until we got to my house around two in the morning, then furiously chased those sensual ideas away as everybody climbed out of the car, our limbs heavy with sleep. Brittany and I retreated to the basement. We talked for a little bit and then fell asleep around three.
Unfortunately I didn't have foresight to ask for Sunday off as well, so I had to go to work at eleven thirty the next day. I stalled as long as I could. Brittany and I were both up and going at about eight, so we had a good amount of time to talk. I let her read that journal entry I wrote, Homemade Chaos, in which I tried to describe how it is that I'm feeling. In it I mentioned an exception to my mutual lack of caring with my friends. Wonder if she knows she's the exception. Surely she does.
After she finished reading it, she hugged me. This weekend was packed with physical contact between us, which is amazing and weird since before then she'd never been the touchy type. So we just kinda talked about what's been going on with me for a bit, and then I we talked about my top college, and I gave her a bunch of information about it that I'd received on both of my visits there. She seemed really interested in going, way more than when I first mentioned it awhile ago, but she's worried about money. So we'll just have to wait and see, I guess.
She left the same time I left for work. If I had taken the day off we probably could've done more together. I didn't want her to go. I have no idea when I'll see her again. It could be a week. It could be another two months. The weekend passed too quickly and now it's another memory of her to put on the shelf. I miss her again already.
And now for the grand finale. I told her today. I won't relay word for word what was said, but the conversation has not yet ended. I sent her a three-page text during lunch, trying to be lighthearted and comical in my confession, and her response was basically that she kind of picked up on it, that she was glad I told her, the gracious response that I had anticipated.
I don't even know how I feel right now. It was so anticlimactic and her response was so...I don't fucking know. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't amazing either. It was just a polite, accepting response. Maybe I was craving some tempest of emotion. Anger, fear, joy, anything. Maybe I've been living in my dreams too much. Maybe I was hoping, even though I tried to rationalize my way out of such a hope, that she would say she felt the same.
I responded to her response by trying to pry out of her whether or not she feels the same. Pretty sure she's in a lecture right now. I probably won't get a response until really late tonight. I should feel better, shouldn't I? Maybe that comes later. Haylee and Katie said that we apparently flirt when we're talking on Twitter or in person all the time, but I don't see it. They said stay hopeful. They said this will be a continuous mind game because she just might feel the same. Maybe they're just saying that. I appreciate their support though. Haylee had to read Brittany's reply to me because I was too fucking nervous.
So. There you have it. The anticlimax of this stupid high school tale.