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Mystery girl.
My eyes wander of their own accord, my brain following like a lost puppy. Today, she’s wearing a T-shirt which reads, ‘I Like Boys That Sparkle.’
Great, one of those vampire-loving chicks.
Her arms are visible, no jacket or sleeves to cover the scars and cuts. She is very pale, odd for living in California, but maybe she isn’t a native or one of those folks who claims they never tan like albinos.
Her fiery red hair is covering her eyes as she continues to bow her head. Scanning the rest of her, I stop at a shiny piece of gold which catches my attention. Nestled on her left hand is a gold band. She’s married.
Time to back the fuck up. I turn away to clear my mind of the ray of thoughts swirling around. It’s not like I’m here to score, so who cares that she’s married? What you feel is just genuine concern for someone other than yourself. Her scars are laid bare for all of us to see. What caused them is now piquing your curiosity. That’s all.
Penny’s loud voice distracts me. “Let’s call him ‘Mr. X.’ So, we were seeing each other for about six months. I thought he was the one. He was confused, I understood that. Pushed into a life he didn’t want, married, two-point-four children, white picket fence, drove a Prius.”
“A Prius?” Jerry sneers.
“Uh-huh. Like I was saying, he was living this double life. So, one day, he tells me he’s leaving all t
hat for me. What’s a girl to think? I was over the moon! We had picked out an apartment to rent. He even started bringing things over, and then one day, he vanished.”
Fred leans over and pats Penny on the back. “I tried to find him, and according to everyone, he had left town with his family. A year later, I ran into him at the airport, random fluke. He was there with his family and pregnant wife. I was still hurting. Why me? Wasn’t I good enough?” Penny cries.
Hazel hands Penny a box of tissues as the tears stream down her face. Perhaps her strength was masking her weakness. Her sobs are loud, ugly cries.
“Have you thought for a moment how you played a role in ruining this sanctity of marriage?” The voice comes from mystery girl.
She speaks and sounds like she’s ready to go to war.
“Of course, but honey, a man tells you he loves you, you take those words to heart. Sometimes your heart won’t see or care about anyone else,” Penny defends herself.
“Well, even though he’s a right prick, he should be thanking his lucky stars he still has his family,” mystery girl states angrily. She lowers her head, her words barely audible. “I wonder every day why he was taken from us. I wonder if there’s anything I could’ve done to keep him alive. When I look at my son, I wonder if he feels the pain I do. Sometimes I think I’m healing, but then something happens… his song comes on the radio, someone walks past me with the same hair color. Or even that stupid baby soap ad that comes on where the family is hugging it out.”
The group is quiet, allowing her to voice her feelings.
“That baby soap commercial gets me every time,” Fred confesses.
Jerry and Penny nod in unison.
She tugs on her shirt to hide the nerves. “What family does my son have? How can a family be just a mother?”
Hazel speaks up, “Family isn’t defined by a dad, a mom, and a child. Family is a feeling, not a status. When I lost Richard and George, I asked the same exact question.”
“Why didn’t you remarry or have more children?” mystery girl questions Hazel.
“I was in my early forties, and having more children wasn’t really in the cards for me. As for marriage? I’ve dated other men. In fact, I’ve been together with Miles for almost four years now.”
“And you don’t want to marry him?” Clearly, mystery girl has found her voice.
“Miles and I have a great relationship as it is. He lost his wife to breast cancer a few years back. He has two daughters who I love dearly. For us, we enjoy what we have today. Marriage is sacred, and we took those vows with people who are no longer here. I do love Miles as he loves me.”
It’s like a vault is being opened, and the questions and curiosity are laid on the table eager to get some sort of answer.
“Do you get jealous when he talks about his wife? I just don’t get it. I never want to stop talking about my husband. He was my life… he is my life,” mystery girl corrects herself.
“Oh, dear, no. We love to talk about our great loves. It’s a part of keeping the memory alive. I’ve spent a lot of time with his wife’s family and enjoy hearing all the wonderful stories. She was a remarkable woman, and I know why Miles loved her dearly. When I see Miles’ face light up talking about her, it makes me complete. She’ll always be a part of him, and she brings out the best of him. Makes him the person he is today. Understanding the roles people play or played in our lives gives us a sense of comfort and sometimes closure on events that are beyond our control.”
Hazel walks over to the girl and puts her hand out. The girl is scared, holding back, but soon places her hand in Hazel’s and follows her to our circle where she takes a seat beside her.
I continue to watch her because something is nagging me, this feeling of familiarity, and wracking my brain is getting me nowhere. The group continues to talk about a field trip next Saturday. I pay absolutely no attention because mystery girl is watching me. She continues to stare at me, her bleak eyes shadowed by dark circles. Her eyebrows rise slightly as we continue this game of curiosity.
