Choose Your Own Adventure

 

Staring at me through the mirror is Rita. I have not seen her since I was in 11^th grade. We messaged back and forth once when I was in my late 30s and that was that.

She was the only girl I liked in high school. For real liked, that is. I was a teenager after all, so liking and really liking mean different things.

Anyway, I see bad intent in the eyes right now. Eyes I haven’t seen in over 35 years. Eyes I used to be so scared to look into because I was too damn weak to admit what I was thinking.

I flash back to walking home with her after soccer practice one day in school. How excited I was that I was actually doing it, having a real conversation, all that stuff that comes with high school crushes, loves, etc. At least, what all the books and songs and poems told me.

For some reason, that was the only time we walked home together. And oddly, I never really questioned it until just right now as she is staring at me in the mirror of my hometown’s oldest bar.

She walks over. I turn around.

“Hello, Rita,” I say, trying to be the first to speak.

“Hi, Randy,” she says, very matter-of-factly. “You listening to Cinderella?”

“Funny you should say that,” I reply, pointing to my now swollen shut eye that I’m sure is bruised as well.

She looks me up and down. Sighs and sits down.

“So, how have you been?” she replies.

“Been better, but been much worse, to be honest.”

“I’ll bet,” she slyly says. I look a litter closer and see the age of all these years. But I also still see that 17 year old that I used to have feelings for, when I didn’t know what that meant.

Over the next few hours, we talk about how life has shit on us, pooped us out, and propped us up in decent places. I tell her I’ve never been married, close once, engaged once, but never married. Her story varied from mine, with marriages and all that.

I decide I need to take my John Cusack moment, and simply ask… “What do you think would have happened if I asked you out in high school?”

She looks at me, I think sadly.

“I don’t know, Randy,” I asked myself that question in high school. But hadn’t thought about it since, really.

“Really?” I say, my narcissistic heart breaking. “I thought about that question for years after you moved away. Definitely thought about it a lot my senior year when you were gone.”

In those before the internet days, I had no idea where she moved to. I heard rumors of the place, of the why, but, I never knew. I probably could have asked someone, I’m sure someone really knew. But, my nerd self didn’t want anyone to know how much it bothered me… So, I never did.

“Really?” she says. This time, more curious than stand-offish. I see this moment as a turning point for me. I can either keep being curious, and let my mind wander, or I can back off.

At that moment, I think about the old “Choose Your Own Adventure” books, and wish that live could be like that. Make a choice, and if it sucks, turn back to page 34 and go to another choice.

“Life ain’t like a ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ book, is it?” I ask Johnny. He shakes his head in dismay, as I think even he remembers me as that lovestruck 15, 16, and 17 year old who never had a clue.

“What does that mean?” Rita asks, looking at me with even more curiosity.

“Oh, nothing,” I reply. “You remember those, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she says with a bright smile. Her greenish hair catches in the light. It kind of makes me feel weird. Her skin is pale, with some freckles. Other than gaining a few pounds and not having that 80s curly mullet, she looks the same. Me on the other hand, I’m bald and fat. Although I’ve lost 20 pounds in the last few months.

“Well, I like to sometimes look at my life and wish it could all be that simple,” I start talking again. Someone else from my past walks into the bar just as I’m getting comfortable. She walks up to the jukebox, puts in a dollar and clicks a few times.

The opening drums and chords of “Shake Me” by Cinderella start playing. I wince. The girl who just walked in, she points at me slyly and laughs a little. Of all the places she’d be and I’d be, tonight, we’re both inextricably here.

I tip my now empty bottle of Red Stripe her way. She mouths “Boo Hair Metal, Hoo-ray Beer.”

I look at Rita. She looks bored. Not mad. I wonder again. And I don’t say anything.