Genevieve

A story about a girl.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me along beside her through the crowd. I could feel my body react; my hand got all tingly in all the places our skin touched. Around us the heavy thud of rap music reverberated through the dingy cafetorium. For moment I wondered why a rich catholic school didn’t have a real auditorium, but the constant tug on my arm pulled all thoughts back to her.

 

Genevieve was beautiful in every way. Dark hair that was almost black hung to her shoulders, and grey-blue eyes peeked from behind the curly bangs that fell so often into her face. She would always sweep them behind her ear in one smooth motion, often making a huffing sound as though annoyed by her unruly hair. Eternally elegant, she was in a modest green dress for the winter ball. The green was pretty, and brought out the color of her eyes, though it had been a huge hassle to find a tie that matched. But dressed in my three-piece suit, I matched tie and all.

 

Letting myself be dragged among the throngs of catholic school girls dancing with their boyfriends, a grin like Christmas Day stretched across my face. At that single moment, hand in hand with the only girl I had ever loved, life was actually perfect. All my pain was gone like I had been healed. Genevieve was not a drug that dulled the pain but a sunshine that evaporated it away.

 

Faces vaguely danced before my eyes. Jennifer, Marie, Rebecca: her friends, or enemies, or something. Just being around her was creating a buzz in my head. All I could focus on was past events involving her.  First was the summer, which was all montages of movies and popcorn. Then there was Halloween, when we had cuddled close together---as friends---because she was “cold” and “scared” from my silly campfire stories. After that, early winter came, and she talked me through breaking up with my then-girlfriend.

 

 Last was January 9, 2008, the day I opened up my heart, as stupidly clichéd as that sounds. Coming from a background of parent caused pain, it was a big step to admit something as big as love. It had been a phone call and a simple question. “Will you go to winter ball with me as more than friends?” The dance had been a date between friends for over six months.  Yet the heavens had opened and God had smiled because she had replied “yes.” Three letters took me higher than Everest and made me so warm inside it was as though I stood upon the surface of the sun. Her simple answer erased the past and made the present and the future the best things in my life. In my head, she shone with even more brilliance than before, as though the veil had been lifted up, as though in admitting my feelings I had removed my inhibitions about admitting her radiance.

 

That was what “yes” did for me. For the next 16 days and 16 nights we talked for hours, on MySpace and on the phone, about us, about our lives, about where we were going. And it was beautiful. Finding love was like finding the meaning of life. Genevieve was everywhere: in every breath, in every blink of the eyes, in every smell of flowers in the air. God was everywhere too; we were both religious people, and in those moments together faith actually meant something. Love found proof that miracles did happen, and pain and misunderstanding never would prevail in the end.

My heart felt as big as Jupiter as I allowed Genevieve to tug me through a stream of people from a world I didn’t know or care about other than the fact that it was her world. Even when the music changed to a slow, steady beat, it was only the sensation of my arms wrapping around her waist that snapped me free from my dreaming of days only measured by how pointless they were compared to today, to being here with her…

The End

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