WOLFE, ATTICUS CEDRIC

[ATTICUS CEDRIC WOLFE]

ATTICUS CEDRIC WOLFE
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N/A , TWENTY-FOUR , COLUMBIA GRAD STUDENT , ARI

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and you never did like this town
- - - - - - - i talk out loud like you're still around

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A thousand kinds of kisses. Cigarette kisses, musty and quick, lingering like the very smoke that composed them. Kisses laced with red, red wine, long and romantic and full of droopy eyed laughter. Kisses that were never really kisses, only implications seen in every little thing she did. There were days without the familiar press of her lips against my very own, and on those days the birds sung a little softer, their song just the slightest bit slower. Amendments would be made however, and I would be spoiled rotten with her sugar-lined kisses.

I remember her in the coffee cup rings left on my bedside table. I see her in her yellow dress when I read the newspaper, her skinny frame occupying the seat across from me that I try to argue is empty. Its in the mornings that she's closer, making leaving her side in bed something I cannot bear to do. There I lie, at times for hours, staring at the way I remembered the sunlight hitting her cheeks. How she would hide her face under the covers, concealing the blush she won't give me the satisfaction in seeing. These are the good days, when I can see her. The days that validate why the ring still lies in my finger.

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Growing up in a family of twelve educates you in a certain way. You learn that any item of food left unguarded is promptly snatched up and consumed in quite an alarming matter. Eventually you find that it's easy enough to slip out undetected, stealing away into the solitude or company of the night, well aware that you will be easily forgotten seeing as though there's nine other children close enough to you to pass off for a few hours. The laundry set outside the bedroom door you share with two others signifies that Heathcliff has a female visitor over, and is not to be disturbed under any circumstances. That last point took some time to learn, stumbling into the room only to find what my eight year old brain could process as some fucked up attempt at one attempting to smother the other.

I was born right in the middle, sandwiched between siblings of both ages on either side. It would be safe to say I was easiest to be brushed aside, never bragging looks as Estella did, or exceedingly brawny like Dorian. It wasn't until I was accepted to Princeton that my parents so much as blessed me with the time of day. In a way it seemed that my mild-mannered natured had worked my way during high school, always leading me out of harm's way. Whether it be physical harm (I've seen the sickly deterioration of one too many due to abuse of the vices), or something as superficial as the folly drama that circulated my school's dimly lit halls. They were just about as bright as the students. As soon as I had that acceptance letter, I counted down the days until I would be free. Free from the confines of a small town, being shuffled under the rug when there were more exciting things to marvel over (typically one of my many siblings). At last that day came, I gave a half-assed attempted at enthusiasm in my speech, and I was gone.

It was at Princeton that I met her. Her, with her curly red locks. Her, with her salt's dash of freckles across a perfect bridge nose. Her, the one being who could beat me at Scrabble without so much of a moment's hesitation. She wore her hair long and free and sported jeans that she drew on with pen in class whenever she felt so compelled. Lara was something else. Something new. Something so beautiful I knew that when we would part, whatever moment that would be, I would be barren.

She loved me as I loved her, and despite the odds thrown at us, we were happy. Only one true curveball was thrown at us, hard and swift. After graduation Lara wanted to travel, to see the world. She was never one to settle down and grow roots in any given place. These plans would make it nearly impossible to stay together, seeing that I was accepted to Columbia for law. My dream. Lara, baby. I would say, whispering into the smooth contours of her shoulder blades. As soon as I graduate we will be on a plane to Dublin. Beijing. Quito. Wherever you want.

I shouldn't have held her back.
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