The following work is the result of an eight-week collaboration with The Chicago City of Learning Young Author Playlist and Hypertext Studio Writing Center.
By Fabian Lomelli
Hermelinda said she wanted to talk with me so I took her to the stairway outside Marquette School. It was getting dark on what was to be one of the last days of summer. It was slightly chilly, due to a breeze. I could tell something wasn’t right. She was too quiet, and the intensity in the air made me quiet as well.
We sat down on the steps. I could already feel my butt getting cold against the rough lifeless concrete. This didn’t completely distract me from the matter at hand. I could tell she was briefly lost in thought, staring blankly at the sidewalk, but out of nowhere, she burst into tears and cried painfully. She took my hand and I could feel her warm, slightly sweaty hand squeezing my rough big hand. She cleared her throat and told me that we as a couple, we’re not healthy. She told me I’m smart, yet I’m not smart where it matters. She said she loved me — those words usually light up my face, yet they didn’t feel the same. She told me how, earlier that day, she was hanging out with her ex and how he kissed her — yet those were not the lips she knew. This filled me with rage and sorrow, yet my love for her made me quickly forget it.
As we talked back and forth, being outside at night, the block started to show its true colors. I could see people walking back in the opposite direction because there was a group of gangbangers standing on the corner causing havoc as they screamed what they were and who they were against. A truck drove past speeding, blasting rap music; not so long afterwards, the pungent smell of marijuana became present, yet my care for the world surrounding me was none. Because in my arms, there was the love of my life, a girl who blossomed like a rose, one that came across my path like the birds that flew overhead. Her sleek soft hair smelled like flowers and shined under the moonlight. Her ears were red because the metal plugs she wore had become cold. She almost blended into the environment — she wore all black with boots that seemed perfect for skull crushing, but as she looked into my eyes I could see hers were still wet from the tears previously shed. They were full of sorrow, yet I still smiled. She saw me smile, which was a good sign. She hinted a kiss was coming, so I leaned in with a cheesy facial expression, but as our lips touched all of time seemed to stop. The world around us disappeared and we were briefly lost in the moment that seemed to last us a lifetime.
Suddenly, we both heard a humming sound in the distance, which soon turned into a helicopter, hovering above our heads looking for someone. I pulled away and looked around for a quick second to check my surroundings. Everyone had disappeared. We seemed to be the only people left out on the street. I was still deeply lost in thought about what she told me. I wanted to say goodbye and walk away yet she held me back. She said, “So this is it? You just wanna end it like that and walk away?”
Her words carried weight, and they hit right at home. I was stuck because in the back of my head I was thinking, “This isn’t going to end well.” On either side I’ll get hurt, or she will, and I wanted to avoid that. I turned around. My face must have had some sort of intense expression because as soon as our eyes met, she let more tears out. I took her hand, trying to comfort her. Right then, my words didn’t do much but make things worse, even if I were to choose them with the most wise intentions. So I said nothing, and I grabbed her and held her tight, tighter than a bear – it’s the type of tight hug you give to someone when you feel like they might never be seen again. Time went by, as we stood there holding each other not saying a word but only exchanging looks of flashbacks we both had about each other. I can still remember the first time we kissed and how we met through overheard conversations. It’s ironic how at the time everything seems to be falling apart, you can only think of the good times spent with that person. I shed a tear in remembrance of the end of us and the start of something new.
Finally, I said to her, “Why don’t we just talk about this tomorrow and take the night to think it over?” She seemed to think it through and responded with a simple “yes.” We started to walk; I held her hand the whole way, and before we knew it, we stood feet away from her gate door. It was time to say goodbye; we did multiple times, as a matter of fact. I took one last look at her beautiful soft face, and her eyes shined with a deep uncertainty of what the future held. I kissed her lips for what was the last time, turned around, and walked away off into the cold night, heartbroken never to feel her warmth again.
Fabian Lomelli attends Bogan High School.