C A T C H 22 |BWWM|

Ch. 38 • Officially Missing You

Jackson, MS. June 1944
Friday 5:09 pm

Paislee

The soft, sizzling sound that hissed in my ear kept me company while I was alone in my room. My reflection mirrored my movements effortlessly as I brought the scorching plates to the strands of my hair and down again and again.

My family was empty from the house and nothing was left except for my sadness, sour attitude, and me. They decided to see the newest film that was out now and I had opted to stay inside even with my parents begging me to join them. Inside, I felt kind of dark so I decided to go along with the emotion. I hated everything about my teenaged-driven feelings.

I sat down the flattening plates on my vanity just as the phone rang with alert. It shook slightly as it sang its rhythm and waited for me to pick it up. I knew who was waiting on the opposite side of the line and my heart thumped with excitement.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Lee," Deen said through the phone.

And so our minds went off into a place of its own and so did our conversation.

It was a week or two after Valentine's Day and just Deen and me per usual. A manual-made bouquet of flowers was tightly gripped in my hands as I smiled happily. Deen had claimed that he was a bad boyfriend because of how delayed the floral gift was given to me. The idea that he simply called himself my boyfriend was still processing in my mind. It sounded weird as ever now especially since we were something like opposites.

"Someone's as happy as a clam. Look at that little smile," Deen had said while kissing my cheek and pulling me to his chest. I could feel his fast heartbeat against my back and I remembered that he was warm. Like a blanket covering a shivering body. "Am I right?"

I leaned up and kissed his jaw. "Yes, thank you. You're the greatest person in the world and I couldn't imagine how to ever repay you."

"So we have jokes now?" He poked my sides playfully while I shrugged. "For one, I know I'm a great person. Then, for two, you repaid me by hanging out with me today."

He spun me out of his arms and had this grin on his lips. Our arms were outstretched and barely connected by our fingertips. A laugh left his lips as he stared at me for a minute and then some.

"What?" I asked him curiously.

"You look like a bride. A really young, beautiful bride."

The conversation about that day continued between Deen and I as we remembered all of the fun. He had just stolen my first kiss and the title of my boyfriend.

"Oh my goodness!" I gushed thinking of the day. It was a bunch of troublesome fun. "Then we started talking about marriage and celebrity marriages. That was a fun conversation."

"You were a mess that night. Our debate about what cake to serve at weddings and which flowers. Then, gossiping about people you didn't even know and saying who you were gonna' marry in Hollywood. It was hard to endure you drool over all those guys."

"Oh, shut up." I chuckled.

The line went silent for moments and a sigh drug onto my lips. Deen tried to laugh but after seconds I could just feel our time eating away and the call time rate exceeding our limits.

"Hey, babydoll?" Deen asked.

"Yeah?"

"Remember that time. . ."

In my room, hours before noon, Deen and I sat on my bed. My head rested against his shoulder as I looked down at the photo album resting between our laps. My heart didn't beat fast with fear and I remembered how calm I felt. The window had been open slightly and a gentle breeze rushed through the crack. Deen and I giggled whenever we came upon a funny photo. My fingers brushed against the waxy, film material as I studied a picture of nine-year-old Paislee.

"Look at that. You were cute," Deen said quietly.

"I was," I had sassed back, causing Deen to stick his tongue out. I stood to stretch my legs and twist my limbs around. "I need to use the restroom. Don't tear up my room, boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

When I had returned from the restroom, I found Deen laying lazily on the bed. His eyes spoke words of tiredness but he held a small journal above his eyes. I recognized it by its cover and I knew it was my writing journal where I kept all my prized poems and even short stories. I wasn't great but when I showed one poem to Deen, he busted his bottle.

I climbed into the bed beside Deen and felt the book flop onto the covers. "What'cha doing there?"

"Reading your latest stuff. You have talent, baby," Deen said.

He rolled over and snuggled his head onto my chest and held the book open to read. Then as careful as possible, I ran my fingers through his hair and pulled against its length.

"I don't really know but thank you."

"Well I know and I'm right." He looked up at me with a goofy smile and closed my journal.

"Which one is your favorite poem?" I asked him.

"The one about me."

I giggled from his voice vibrations on my skin and rolled my eyes. "You don't know that. I never mentioned your name and it could've been about Sheila and Robert."

"But you wrote about the first time we kissed and how I touch you."

"But I never wrote your name so it could've been about any relationship. You can't possibly know it's about you. I have a million other poems about love and relationships and all the feelings."

Deen huffed. "My favorite poem is the one about me. Final answer."

"It's not—"

"Final answer!"

Deen's laughter on the phone rang through my ears causing me to join him. After his words of 'final answer' there was a silly argument of whether the poem was about him or not.

"So is the poem still not about me ?" Deen asked.

"Yep. Smart boy," I responded.

"You liar. The poem is about me and it's okay to admit that you confessed everything into your little bitty diary. It's okay, Paislee."

"You're so annoying." I rolled my eyes playfully.

"Our relationship was—was really good while it lasted."

"It was." Silence again for the second time. It wasn't normal for us to talk so choppily but after our discussion days ago there was no way to go around it.

Every time I think of him, I forget that things have changed. Deen and I's relationship was great. Deen was my boyfriend. Deen was my best friend above all. Deen was everything I craved for those months we dated.

"Hey. . . Um, my mom's calling me. Can I hit you back later?" He asked suddenly.

I played with the phone cord. "Yeah, for sure."

"Bye. . . Paislee."

I bit my tongue to keep from calling him what I wanted to. "Bye, Deen."
-

Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay on this chapter. How'd you like it? It was way shorter than my normal one but I wanted to get in at least one reflective chapter.

Don't forget to vote and comment and have a wonderful morning/evening/night. Happy reading!

~Rc xoxo💕