5The beginning was the best part. It was when nothing was decided and no one knew what was going to happen. There were no regrets. There was no hindsight. There was no guilt, or shame or backtracking. There was only the future, clear and waiting to be lived. There were only expectations of greatness and excitement of the unknown. The end meant looking back and wondering why things didn't turn out differently. The end meant disappointment because there was always something that wasn't right. That could have been better. Good intentions end up being an error in judgment no matter how hard you try to make it work. But the beginning ends up being irrelevant more of the time. It ends up being the part that no one remembers. Everyone focuses on the negative.
Chris loved Justine from the beginning until the end. His feelings for her never changed no matter how hard she pushed him away. No matter how many time she told him to leave her alone. He knew she loved him. Somewhere under all that resentment and bitterness she loved him. She just had trouble admitting it. You could call it love at first sight but Chris didn't like to say that. It made him sound crazy. And he was far from crazy. Yes, he was very far from crazy.
He could remember the day she moved in across the street from him. He was in his room reading "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" when he noticed the moving truck stop in front of the house right across from his bedroom window. That house had been for sale for at least a year already. It seemed no one wanted to live there and Chris was fine with that. He managed to pick the lock on the back door a few months ago and sometimes at night he would go over and wander through the empty rooms wondering who used to be there. Who had cooked dinner in that kitchen, watched movies in that living room and slept in those bedrooms. He imagined a perfect family with perfect dreams and perfect futures. They laughed at each other's jokes and complimented each other's outfits. And they never got mad at each other. He imagined something that was impossible but he didn't care. It was better than admitting perfection wasn't out there somewhere.
But now someone was moving into that house and he knew they weren't going to live up to his expectations. He realized no one ever would. At least that's what he thought before he saw her. She was tall and blond and beautiful beyond anything that could be described. She was carrying cardboard box labeled BOOKS through the front door and he was in love. He had to watch her. She carried box after box into the house and even helped move some furniture. He forgot about "Fear and Loathing" and his head filled with daydreams about her. About them.
As in all romance stories, there was something to keep the soul mates apart. A big, blond football player named Curt. He swooped in on the new girl the first day of school and barely left a smidgen of space for anyone else to squeeze through. Curt claimed her as his own before Chris even knew she was in the building. But that didn't stop him from wanting to know her. Her name was Justine and she was from Nova Scotia. She moved to town because her parents had just divorced and her mother got a new job. Chris put this together from parts of stories he heard in the cafeteria at lunchtime, in the locker room before gym class and in the halls after school. He wasn't the only one that had noticed her. She was popular in a nanosecond, leaving him behind to wish he had the courage to talk to her. But this is where the beginning ends and the rest of the story starts to fall into place. Chris never saw himself as a needy guy. He kept to himself and took care of himself. He didn't have to have friends calling him all the time. He didn't need friends really. But he did need her.
One morning when it was so early that the grass was still covered in frost and the houses up and down the street were all quiet and still, Chris was getting into his car to go to school. He liked to sit on the bleachers by the football field and read while the parking lot filled with expensive cars and loud mouth students. He would watch the frost melt off the grass and go inside once the first bell had gone and no one was around to really notice him. Suddenly her face appeared over the roof of the car. She was bundled up in a jacket with a fur-lined hood and her cheeks were rosy. She looked like a character from a children's book.
"Hi, you're Chris right?" she asked him. He stood there, unable to answer right away from excitement. His mouth was frozen shut and his vocal cords were paralyzed. But it only lasted a minute before he managed to pull himself together.
"Yes," was all that came out of his mouth.
"Are you going to school right now?" she asked.
Did she want a ride? Of course she did. She was meeting Curt in the library so they could finish a project they were working on together for sociology. She was running late and had no way to get a hold of him to let him know. She would appreciate it if Chris could give her a lift to school since he was headed there anyway.
Did he tell her no? Of course he didn't. He drove her to the front doors of the school without saying anything. Silence choked him, leaving a sour taste in the back of his throat. He had wanted to talk to her for so long that the words had gotten too big for him to say. They just sat there in his mouth, dissolving before he could remember what they were. She said thank you and left him alone again.
But this is how a romance is supposed to go. You can't force these things they have to just happen. She knew his name! The sound of her voice saying his name gave him a warm feeling while he sat on the bleachers watching the frost melt away. But the memory faded just like the frost and he was desperate for more. He was addicted to her like a person gets addicted to cocaine. Watching her walk by him in the halls made him crave the sound of her voice again. He was in withdrawal in history class, all he could think about was her and when he would see her again. He kept seeing her but it didn't satisfy the ache in the pit of his stomach. Just simply seeing her wasn't enough; he had to touch her… talk to her.
Against his better judgment he started putting notes in her locker. He watched her open them and smile than tuck them inside her backpack. She knew they were from him; she had to. Who else could they be from? Curt could barely say his own name let alone write a love letter.
But eventually the notes weren't enough either. He needed more to stop the desperation he felt when she wasn't around. He decided he would have to talk to her. Tell her how he felt. Officially.
It was dark out and it was starting to snow. It was almost Christmas but this was the first snow of the season. Chris saw it as a sign. It was time he and Justine were together. He walked across the street to the house he used to hide in when his house was so overwhelmed with tension that he could barely breathe. He imagined Justine in the living room with a bowl of popcorn and a movie, all alone, waiting for him to come over. She was saving a spot for him on the couch.
He could see her through the curtains in the front window. They were thin enough that he could watch her silhouette walk from the television to the couch and in and out of the room. He stood there adding his shadow to hers. They sat together and they kissed, like couples do. She lay her head down on his shoulder and sighed like only she could. But Chris suddenly realized that it wasn't his shadow with her. Someone else was in there with her and he was outside her window, standing in the bushes. The thought of someone else touching her made anger boil into his throat like a pot of abandoned milk on the stove. He whirled around and stalked back across the street to his house. His father's study was locked but he picked the lock just like he did time and time again across the street. He felt around the desk and found the key to the cabinet in the closet. He wasn't going to let anyone else touch Justine, not when he could put a stop to it right now. He could be her hero, like a fairy tale. He would save her from the fire-breathing dragon and carry her away into paradise. He knew that was what she wanted.
Chris carried the gun across the street, staring straight into the front window. One shadow was standing up and the other was still sitting on the couch. He couldn't really tell which one was Justine because of the tears that were welling up in his eyes. How could she do this to him? He thought she loved him. But the weight of the gun in his hand reassured him that he could handle the situation. He could get her back. All he had to do was dispose of the big, blond football player that insisted on sitting directly in his path.