Never Always (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Prologue

Prologue

It happens as it always does.

During my morning check of social media.

But unlike other mornings, this one is akin to a slap. Stinging skin. Blood rushing to the surface. The sharp pain so sudden it takes your breath away.

There it is. There he is.

A close-up shot with people in the background.

Some of them I recognize. Some I don’t. But they never matter.

The person in the forefront was what mattered.

Before I could get a good look, I scroll with my thumb.

Moving on!

A picture of a baby enters my screen. 

On a normal day, my joy over seeing a baby wrapped in a hospital blanket and glowing pink from being new to the world would’ve spewed out from my fingers as I typed a congratulatory message in the comment box. But today wasn’t normal. My joy had been snuffed out only moments before by a close-up picture with people in the background.

I liked the picture and moved on to the next story. A group of old friends, now almost forgotten acquaintances, picked up trash on the side of the road this past weekend. Good job guys and gals! Good looking out for the environment! It was half-hearted and a very impersonal response. They wouldn’t care. They didn’t know me anymore and I didn’t know them.

But the effort was needed—for some reason. The term “friends” was loosely used when it came to the internet and social media these days…

…he was laughing at me. I loved the way the corner of his mouth would crinkle when he smiled…

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Hell no. This was not happening. I would close the app until time passed enough for new things to pop up on the newsfeed. I would forget I saw the damn picture!

HELL NO I WOULDN’T!

My eyes open and with a deep, deep sigh, I thumb back up.

There he is again. Smiling. Well, not really smiling. I tap the picture, the white of the app background and text fall away to make the image fill the screen. He definitely isn’t smiling. More like smirking. And yes, there is a difference. The people behind him are a mixture of band mates (there are four of them), their significant others (only one of them is married but there were rumors about girlfriends), and a hodge podge of people I don’t know.

Like always, my attention drifts away from the background imagery and focuses on the man who took the picture selfie style.

Grady Sinclair.

“Why are you smiling at me, Grady Sinclair?”

“Because you’re fun to smile at, Page Townsend.”

I squeeze my eyes close and rub my tongue against the back of my teeth. It was a long time ago. I should not be remembering random blips of conversation! It’s stupid. Hell, all of it is stupid. Me studying his picture. And not even the whole picture. Just the part with him in it!

The door to the apartment opens, making that peeling airlock noise, and is followed by the sound of the screen door slapping closed.

“Mom!”

“Coming!” I hit the circle at the bottom of the hand-held device and look up. “I’m coming.” My two children are standing by the open door, looking at me like I’m out of my mind. I’m standing at the end of the hall, miles away according to the expressions on their faces. “Didn’t I tell you not to open that door?”