The Decision

“Has she made her decision yet?” the voice asked through the buzzing filter of the cellular phone.

“No,” he answered, “She told me to meet her and she hasn’t come yet.” His eyes were itchy from the wind. The corners were tender and slightly puffed, it stung whenever he blinked. He sniffled quite loudly into the phone.

“Are you okay, Rick?” his sister on the phone asked.

“I’m fine,” he responded, “My allergies are killing me right now is all.”

“All right, come over to my place tonight. Let me know what happened.”

“Okay,” he answered and pushed the “end” button. He looked out into the distance, noticing the clouds gracefully gliding across the bright blue sky. The phone was cradled in his palm as he fiddled around with the buttons. He got to his feet feeling uncomfortable sitting on the planter this whole time. He walked in a small circle and for a moment or two just stared at the music store down the street.

It was in that store that he bought his first vinyl record for her. He hadn’t listened to much music, hadn’t paid attention to the nuances of rhythm and melody and harmony until he met Christy. She brought that into his world and now he can’t turn on the radio without hearing the pieces come together, sometimes brilliantly and sometimes chaotically. He knew what she liked just after a few weeks of listening to music with her in her bedroom. And she knew him even better. They would hold hands walking down the very same street talking about movies that nobody else ever saw and music that had gone out of style twenty years before either of them were born.

His eyes closed as the winds started to pick up, forcing his hands deep into his own coat pocket. When they opened again he looked down the street. He strained his eyes to look deeper than his limited sight would allow. Then he swung his head to the other side and strained his eyes again. She hadn’t arrived yet. But then again she wasn’t due for another- he looked at the clock on his cell phone and thrust it back into his pocket- she wasn’t due for another half hour or so. Then he would know her decision. He turned around sharply and looked through the sliding glass doors of the bowling alley he stood in front of. There was an arcade with old games beeping away begging for your quarters in the far corner.

All he could remember before they met was that he was lonely and sometimes alone. And the only place where he could distract himself would be in front of the electronic blue buzzing of the arcade games. He would sit on the tall bar stool with the worn leather and chewed rubber foam cushion exposed on the side like a crusted wound. At the time he needed the stool to reach the screen and see, but now he would only use the stool when his legs were tired, when he was tired. He hadn’t put many coins into any of those machines since he had first met her. Looking back on their time together seemed like eternities ago, but it was in fact just a few months earlier.

They didn’t meet in school or the gym or some café but in the hospital. She was aspiring to go into some prestigious medical school. He didn’t know which one; he didn’t care at the time. But she was a volunteer at the hospital. There were other volunteers but the majority of them were perfectly content with the title that they could neatly put on their résumés. She was different. She wanted to help people and couldn’t wait to go through ten more years of school to do it. And he loved her for that. He wasn’t a volunteer, but he was a regular. It was the third time that year that he was in the hospital, but only the first time that he had seen her.

He was confused about her at first. Intimidated and paranoid he wondered why she visited him every day. What had he done to deserve such a privilege? His only visitors were his parents and sister and most of the time they were angry and crying. There was other family around but it would have been for appearances’ sake only. Name was the only thing that made them family. So he asked that no one else told where he was.

A genuine smile was a welcome change but it looked odd to him coming from a complete stranger let alone a pretty girl. All he knew was that he enjoyed it when her smile was directed towards him. It wouldn’t be the first time he felt selfish about something but the first time he felt happy about it.

“That’s a great book you’re reading there,” she said. The lilt in her voice was sweet and soft and warmed him like a song that he heard for the first time and it would be the first time every time she spoke. He was unsure how to respond so he clutched the book in his hand. The burgundy cover was worn as thin as the yellowed pages in between.

“I know. It’s not the first time I’ve read it,” he kept looking at the book cover, secretly wanting to thrust his gaze into her eyes. “I can relate to the character in the book. It’s sad that that’s the case, I know.”

“Well,” she said. Her voice raised his eyebrows. She was contradicting him in a way that he had wished somebody had years ago. “It’s not necessarily a sad thing. I mean, sure, the main character is in a dark place throughout the entire novel. But in the end, he’s still alive, isn’t he? After all, he is smart and strong and tender and loyal. He sees the rest of the world crumbling around him, but he’s still around to tell the story. That’s always good news, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” he actually agreed but never thought about it before. It wouldn’t be the first time that her perspective on something would be the freshest to his eyes. He wanted to smile but didn’t know if it would scare her, but his eyes smiled and she smiled back at him. Finally, the corners of his mouth tightened into a smile. He was unsure whether she saw but by the time she left he was sleepy and he didn’t care as much. He closed his eyes and let his lips part ever so subtly, the corners still gently curled upwards.

When he got out of the hospital he never expected to see or hear from her again. That was just the way people became involved in his life and he had grown accustomed to the pattern. But she was insistent on breaking that pattern by calling him every night to talk about nothing and ask him how his day was. He wasn’t used to the attention and confessed his suspicions to her which led to their first fight. She called the following night even though he felt he didn’t deserve it. His half empty glasses were starting to appear half full.

She fell for him before he fell for her and they soon became a package deal; you couldn’t find one without the other close behind. The muscles in his cheeks grew sore having been used more than usual when she was around. Talking and laughing and having memories to write about were what the following months were filled with. Some months later, Christy’s applications to medical schools warranted responses with thick envelopes in the mail.

Secondary applications (not to mention the fees), invitations to interviews, and visits to various campuses separated them for days at a time but he was happy for her. He would tell himself that he truly was. Whenever she would come from some cross country trip to some Ivy League school they found each other like magnets. Neither the past nor the future existed when she curled up in his arms. Words were hardly spoken for the first half hour that she would return but none were necessary. There was only one school that she really wanted to go to and one day a response arrived.

He was with her when the envelope was dropped in the mail slot. She held his hand tightly as she took the letter into her hand and opened it. The sound of the paper ripping was deafening even more so with the unfolding of the letter. Their eyes shivered as they read the words to themselves. He smiled and laughed and told her how proud of her she was. Her eyes kept looking at the paper in disbelief or disappointment, he couldn’t tell. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and gently kissed her on the cheek but her arms wrapped around him loosely. He realized she would have to move away for the next ten years if she were to accept the school’s offer.

“Meet me tomorrow,” she told him, “at three o’clock. I’ll tell you then.”

“Where?” he asked.

“You know where.”

His fingertips and nose and cheeks tingled in the warmth of the bowling alley. It caused him to shiver as he walked towards the arcade in the far corner. He looked at the games and saw some new ones and some of the same old ones. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a dollar and let it get sucked into the change machine. The quarters jingled into the collection bowl and he scooped it into his hands. His fingers smelled of metal and he shook the coins into his coat pocket.

He hated himself for not wanting her to go. This was her dream and what right did he have to get in the way of it? But he couldn’t stand the solitude again, not after realizing that things could be better. He gulped down a lump in his throat. His hands were cold, his face was hot, and he felt the beckoning of the electronic blue buzz just mere feet from him. Like reuniting with an old friend, he sat down on the dilapidated stool.

“You must remember this,” the speakers outside the bowling alley started to hum an old song. It was one of her favorites. It was supposed to make her happy but now there was only utter desolation following the temporary high the song was intended for.

The monotone “bing-bong!” followed the whooshing of the bowling alley’s sliding doors and he knew that it was her. He tried desperately to keep his eyes on the blinking screen in front of him as he let a quarter drop into the slot. He had never let a game slip by him. But he heard his name being softly spoken in that delicate lilt that never fails to make him just a bit warm inside. He knew her decision before she even said anything. He let the stool fall to the ground as he stood on his feet and walked towards her. He let her speak with his arms wrapped tightly around her and hers wrapped tightly around him. It didn’t matter what was going to happen, he thought, she’s here with me now.