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Differentiation

J. Cassidy Hawthorne

For the girl with the perfect smile

    Two bright headlights existed for only a few seconds to her. And then suddenly, nothing existed at all.
    We were only sixteen and it was over for me. She sucked me in with that face. She had the kind of smile cartoonists try to draw on people: vexingly white teeth and those high-arched soft cheeks.

    My grandparents met the same way. They were high school sweethearts. I watched the two of them love each other so sincerely and so deeply until Ernesto closed his eyes and didn’t open them again. He was a good man and she was his muse. She was his light in his time of darkness. She was his reason for fighting even in the end. They were forever in love. She followed him into the ground four months later. That’s what I wanted.
    Maybe that’s why I fell in love with Dianne so quickly. I figured it was fate- like my destiny or something. The first time we went out I asked her to be my girlfriend. She said she wanted to ‘test the waters’ or something ridiculous. But, essentially it was a ‘yes’ because from that moment on we spent every minute of every day talking to each other. Whether we were messaging from our fingertips or sharing only a few inches of space between our mouths, we were talking.
    Life was bliss and every second spent with her was like swimming in wine. It was a high no narcotic could bring me. Her body was addicting. Smelling her hair was like snorting cocaine. I just wanted more.
    Our last year of high school we held each other in between gasps for air and bursts of salted tears. I remember kissing her as our caps flew in the air and the tassels rained down on us.

    The summer came and the days started to count down. We didn’t talk about it. I didn’t bring it up and she didn’t either. But I had gotten into one school and she some place far away. It was a bittersweet congratulation when she found out. It was a forced lie when I did.

    Our last date came. We both knew it and someone finally had to speak. She did.
    “Vincent, you know that I love you?” She asked me like it was a history question. It was like she asked me if I knew who Caesar was.
    “Of course. Do you know that I love you more?”
    “Yes- well, you don’t- but yes; I know you love me.”
    “I so do though,” I interjected.
    “Do you love me enough to stay with me in college?”
    “Absolutely. No doubt whatsoever.”
    “Okay. Good- I don’t want to lose you either.”
    “You promise?”
    “Yes, I promise.” There was a pause for a couple seconds. I took a bite of whatever I was eating and spoke.
    “It’s going to be absolutely awful not seeing you, you know, like everyday.”
    “I know.”
    “Like, I’m gonna die.”
    “I know, me too.”
    “I’m gonna come up there and visit you whenever I can.”
    “I want you to.”
    “I want to more.” Our last meal was shared. I paid the bill. We walked out together and went back to my house. We had sex. Before I dropped her back off at her house, our last kiss breached between the cracks of our lips and the tips of our noses.
    She went to Connecticut and I stayed in Pennsylvania. I was numb to everything. I tried to go out with my friends. I tried to party with them. I was too numb. What else could I want? I had her already. My eyes were glued to my phone screen that read, Dianne New Message. Who cared about the sorority girls?
    I went to class and I would text her when I didn’t feel like paying attention. I would go out with my guy friends- sneaking into bars with fake IDs and listen to them chat about the girls and the two-dollar draughts. I just kept looking at my phone.
    Finally, I had a weekend where she wasn’t busy pledging and I wasn’t busy studying. I took the drive to her campus and the whole time I just kept thinking about how it was going to feel when I ran up and grabbed her. I found some place to park and she called trying to find me.
    Her campus was big and hard to navigate through. Eventually, I saw her. She had tied her hair into one of those fishtail styles that I had never seen on her. I hugged and kissed her hello and asked about her hair. She said it was something her roommate would do to her just for fun.
    I didn’t like it. It was different. The day went on and she showed me around her campus. She talked about it with so much enthusiasm. It was like this was her home and I was just some tourist. I guess I was. I didn’t like it. It wasn’t our home. She went on and on with facts about every building, which fraternities and sororities were more exciting, what crazy things she had heard people doing for pledging, and how much fun she was having. I didn’t like it. She was different.
    She took me to her dorm and her roommate was there. I think her name was Joanne, but everybody called her Jo Jo. She was thicker and wore too much make up. She was trying too hard and struck me as always craving attention. She was not the auspicious and studious Asian girl I had hoped Dianne would dorm with. She had the fake nails, the gaudy cheap jewelry, the meticulously straightened hair, the eyes painted in dark colors, you know; it was like she crawled from underneath the Jersey shore boardwalk and into Dianne’s dorm.
    I had made some comments about her to Dianne in our privacy. Dianne said she liked her. They had grown close. She got drunk a bunch of times and Dianne had to help her. They got close because of it. They shared their emotions, dreams, and hopes. They shared ideas. I think, ultimately, these new ideas were what changed her.
     The weekend was over and we had class the next morning. It was difficult to leave her but eventually reality set in and I had to go back. I remember stepping out of her building and looking around the campus. I gently whispered how much I hated everything around me. The drive home was long and arduous but the only thing keeping my enthusiasm was her vow to come see my school soon.
    We continued talking as we always did. I stayed away from other girls and focused as best as I could with my classes and my work. Our messages dwindled in number. She explained that joining a sorority required numerous hours of the ultimate attention. I was aggravated by her. I didn’t want her spending so much time with these new people. I didn’t want her changing anymore. Thankfully, a weekend came when I could see her again. She took buses from her campus all the way back home to my school.

    I was dying to be with her again. I was lonely, to be honest. My friends had stopped inviting me out since all I did was stare at my phone. She came an hour later than she said she would and attributed her tardiness to the traffic. I didn’t really care; I was just happy to be able to see her again. I asked why she didn’t just drive and she said a friend had borrowed for the weekend to do some pledge missions. I didn’t like that- but refrained from saying anything.
    I took her to my dorm. She said it was small. I said it was because I didn’t have a roommate. She asked what I did on the weekends and I told her. I just talked to her. She was startled and surprised. She wanted a tour of my campus. I told her there really wasn’t much to see. She seemed distraught, upset- disappointed, really. I thought she’d be happy to see me. I thought I’d be enough for her.

    I guess I was yelling because she had a frightened look in her eyes. I guess I felt bad; I don’t remember much of what happened next. I know she said my college was boring and that I was boring. She said I was different and all I could keep screaming was that she was different. I tugged on her fishtail hair, I dug my fingers through her new make-up, and I spat her sorority’s name out of my mouth like dentist office water. I remember everything now. I was angry.
    Apparently I was misunderstanding, ignorant, and close-minded. I was too attached to the past to let go of her. I was a ‘no’ person and she was an adventurer, ‘captured in my obsessive love.’ That was the last thing she said before she shut my door and left. I started laughing hysterically. I thought it was ridiculous. I thought this was just some fight and that she just needed to cool down. I was wrong.
    I looked for her and couldn’t find her. I kept messaging her and calling but there was no answer. I think she shut her phone off. At this point I grew concerned that maybe I had gone too far. I was worried. I started to feel ill. I cried. I threw up a little.
    When she finally got back in touch with me, she didn’t have much to say. It was over, she said. I wasn’t the same and neither was she. The people we had become were no longer in love and it was time to find someone else. I had no idea what she was talking about. I abstained from everything- from any sort of change- to stay with her.

    She didn’t.
    Now it was over.
    So for months I didn’t even really think about Dianne. I can honestly say that. I had classes going on and I was drinking almost every free night. She didn’t message me and I didn’t her. We had forgotten each other in every social media outlet and I had tossed every sentimental object she had given me. Everything was working out.
    And then my phone rang.
    It was her friend from home, a girl named Cheryl. She asked me if I knew anything yet. She was crying. She was hysterical. My stomach dropped and I couldn’t swallow. I was in my dorm at the time and I remember shaking and feeling every blood cell flowing faster and faster. My skin was burning pins and needles- I needed to move. I had to run. I felt like sprinting. I couldn’t. I just had to stand there and listen. So I did.
     A front, high-speed collision killed her almost instantly. Her passenger was thrown out of the front window and it took them an hour to find her head- no seatbelt. The other girl in the back followed the same way.
    I didn’t really cry at the ceremony. After I got the news and accepted that she was never coming back, I realized the girl I knew had died months before her car collided with another. I didn’t really know this girl who was being put in the ground. I suppose maybe, the girls who had spent the last months of her life did. All I could do was remember her smile and think about the two headlights, and the people standing beside me, that had taken it away.

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