how u were like the sun

3

The cold wasn't over, it was only the beginning. My father said that I looked different but I didn't feel too different.

Something big had happened in October between us, but I didn't kill my self thinking about it. Even though you were my first. Regardless of what that word meant, virginity, you always remember the first of anything. It's what you use as a comparison.

We were midway November and all around me everyone was in a festive mood to give thanks. I gave thanks for my family, for my life and finally for for having you in it. My mother had made a big dinner but as I sat there around my family all I thought about was how you were spending the holiday season and what you were giving thanks about. I hoped it was me. The thought of that helped me sleep at night and those rare text messages you would send my way telling me when I would see you next, those helped most.

December was here and you would stop by more often. What did it matter that the temperature was dropping and soon snowflakes would be falling; your golden eyes and skin kept me hot. So hot. It was so hot in that car. The windows would get foggy and I would get sweaty and flushed. You would touch me everywhere, everywhere as I would do the same.
What did it matter that my grades were dropping faster than the temperature was doing so? I had you in my life again. And when you touched me, I forgot it all. It went straight out the window and fell down like our clothing.

Winter had officially come by and it was when I realized something. We hardly talked at all. All the words I could remember were when we exchanged greetings, the exclaim and whisper of each other's name, and then goodbyes. I had not heard of you mentioning you getting a haircut, a new tattoo, a new job. I saw that all on my own.

You didn't ask how my grades were doing, if I'd decided finally on what color to paint my room, or asked if I had gotten my hair trimmed. I realized I was making love to a stranger.

So then you came by before Christmas, when I should have been reviewing for finals. When you reached over to kiss me and moved me to your lap, I stopped you, I asked you how you were.
You looked at me as if I were speaking in another language, but we both knew two, so you would have still understood me. And so you asked what I was doing, confusion making your face glow dimly, and I told you that I felt like I hardly knew you. And you got so angry, so frustrated, so vexed, out of nowhere, out of the blue and it expelled into that dark car.
The solar flares were filling the car, it was getting hot in there for different reasons.
You banged your fist on the steering wheel and told me that I had seen more of you than any other girl, that what was I talking about, that I was crazy. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.
But you weren't understanding me, perhaps I was talking in another language. I just didn't want to fight anymore, it was more exhausting than running a mile. And I was so afraid of losing you.
So I got on your lap on my own and kissed you hard. You kissed me harder and went inside me harder and harder, you were still angry but you also still desired me. I screamed your name so loud, you thought that it was because of my climax, but I was crying out for you to see me. It's like suddenly you were blind, no longer seeing me as you had done in the summer.
And maybe I too was blinded, they do say that when around the sun you should wear protection but I hadn't listened, I trustingly wore my heart on my sleeve for you.

Christmas had come by and I was out of school on break. I asked you to come by because I had your present, wrapped with a green bow, sitting on my nightstand. You said you would be there in 10 but got there in 7.
I snuck out of my house and crept past my tipsy mother and sleepy dad and met you in your red car. You looked hungover and horny. I knew this all from the summer we spent together, all that time I spent observing you. I wonder what you gathered about me.

You smirked at me and touched my lips with your thumb before kissing me. I smiled and pushed you back and told you that you needed to open your present. You looked confused when I handed it to you but reluctantly opened it. You tore it open carelessly and threw the wrapping out the window.
You stared at the dice keychain that was meant to hang from your rear view mirror, when you looked in it to see the cars behind you, you would think of me.

You had first spoken to me when I was tipsy and decided I could play poker dice with the nerds for money. It's what liquor does to you, it gives your courage even when you don't know of it. I was losing badly, almost had lost $200 when you sat down next to me and helped me, winning me back my money plus $400 more. I thanked you that night by sloppily trying to kiss your cheek but missing because you were too tall, so I ended up kissing your neck instead.

But all you did was stare at it as if I'd given you a piece of coal.

I laughed nervously and tried to explain it to you, you had to understand, how could you not? You stared at it for what seemed like the longest time ever, and it was so long and on the verge of awkward and uncomfortable, until you just kissed me. Like you preferred kissing me over speaking to me—it wasn't as pretty as it sounds.

I wanted to pull back and explain to you how much that night meant to me, how I still thought of it. But giving myself to you, was now the only way I felt close to you. You could have been holding my hand on that short ride from my house to that abandoned parking lot and I would still feel like I was sitting alone in my room, thinking of you.

Instead of closing my eyes to feel you inside me I opened them so I could watch you, suddenly so afraid that I would forget what your face looked like. The curve of your thick eyebrows, thick lashes, plump lips, golden skin, the tiny scar under your right eye directly on your cheekbone.

You were so close, as was I, when I whispered that I loved you. We were as together as one could get but I just needed to hear you say those words to me, I needed the reassurance. You reached your climax and your eyes finally opened and you looked down at me like you'd forgotten I was there and I felt so exposed and cold with that look you were giving me.

I looked away from your eyes and searched for my clothes and I couldn't find my stupid tank top so I just started to cry. At first I tried to keep it quiet so you wouldn't notice but I couldn't help it when the tears finally streamed. You had put your shirt on already and zipped up your pants and were already lighting your cigarette—God when had you started smoking those? You looked over at me and rolled your eyes, like I was such a bother, such a hassle, as if I did this all the time, cried.

This was the first time I cried in front of you. Another of firsts to always remember.

That just me cry harder, that look; the indifference and the nuance.
And then you finally asked me why I was crying and all I did was ask about when you had started to smoke cigarettes.

You glanced at me carelessly and handed me my shirt which you had been sitting on this whole time, and I looked at it, then put it on after wiping my eyes with it.

I asked you if you loved me, I just wanted to know. You shook your head annoyed, so blasé to me, the sappy girl in your car. You opened the car door and moved back up to the front, done with this already.

Perhaps you were not the sun as I'd thought. Just a star. Stars are simply meant for the nights, boys like you are only for summers, for seasons. After the season is over, the relationship is over, like clothing, you just have to get rid of it and accept the fact that you will not wear it anymore. I had yet to accept that you and I were no more.

I followed you and urged you to answer me and you said that you didn't know, that this was all a waste of time, with your shoulders shrugging upwards.
I couldn't believe it, or maybe I already knew it was true, but to hear it come out your lips with the gray smoke hitting my face, felt awful.
Then I threw up. I was so sick. I'd been sneezing and coughing but you hadn't even noticed. You looked at me with disgust and shook your head and said, what the fuck is wrong with you. I wanted to tell you I was sick but I was just so sick of you now, I couldn't stand to be in that fucking car any longer. I ran away from you, from my so-called sun.

I did say I hated winter.

Artwork by Helen Frankenthaler: All About Blue circa 1994