4

I was at the market with my mother’s shopping list a few days after my second encounter with Ondine. All of the tomatoes were bruised and the cucumbers were all far too soft, and I knew how much my mother hated that. She liked her vegetables firm and easy to work with, and I wished she hadn’t sent me out to do her shopping. Do not cross my words, though, as I was happy to see her trying again. She had begun cooking again and had started to take a yoga class in the past year, and was much less dependent on my company as she began to develop new friendships with the women she ran into in town. But it bothered me that she could not be bothered to do her own shopping.

               I found the lesser of the evils when it came to tomatoes and cucumbers. Just as I was about to turn to get a bottle of cream and a newspaper, I ran into a woman who had her head buried in a book. I bit my tongue to refrain from a snide comment. She looked up at me, startled, and snapped her book shut. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear and adjusted her glasses, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered, shaking her head. My irritation dissipated as her embarrassment was revealed.

               “Don’t worry about it,” I insisted, shaking my head. She gave a weak smile, and a sense of remembrance suddenly fell upon me. “Ma’am? Do I know you from somewhere?”

               “Adam?” Her eyes widened, if it only slightly.

               I laughed. “Yes, yes,” I nodded, “and your name was… Maria?”

               She grinned. “Ah, it’s been so long since high school!” she exclaimed. “How are you? How is your mother?”

               “We’re doing fine,” I replied. “I have my own business at the docks now, and my own boat. Did you and Todd ever get married like you two bragged?”

               Maria blushed, looking at her feet. “We broke up in college,” she said with a shake of the head. “I got into Midwestern and he got into Cornell, so we were too consumed in schoolwork to see each other.” She had a grin on her face, but I could see in her eyes how the words pained her.

               Maria Romero and Todd Buckingham were my age, and had dated all four years of high school. They were always together, always laughing, and were voted the high school sweethearts our senior year. They even had promise rings and it was rumored they got engaged after prom our senior year. They were both A-students and very involved in extra-curricular activities, and ambitious people overall. I had been friends with Todd since we were fourteen, so we talked often, and I remembered him telling me how he was excited to go to Cornell, and was not concerned about his relationship with Maria, as he felt they could handle anything the world threw at them. We stopped talking after graduation, and I suppose that the two of them, in reality, couldn’t handle anything the world decided to throw at them.

               “You two should try to reconnect,” I suggested. “After you both graduate. You were a beautiful couple.”

               “Well, that might not be a great idea,” Maria said sheepishly. “I’m engaged.” She lifted her hand to show the diamond ring that adorned her ring finger.

               “Oh,” I said, taken aback. Her and Todd as a couple had become default for me. It was strange to think of her with any other chap, especially considering how good of a man Todd was when I knew him. Regardless, it would have been foolish to dwell on the past. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

               “He’s a doctor,” she giggled, hugging her book to her chest. “His name is David. He just graduated med school, so he’s a bit older than me, but we get along very well and he’s just wonderful.”

               I nodded with a smile. “That is exciting,” I told her. “I hope everything goes well with you two.”

               “I do as well,” she replied. “It was nice seeing you today, Adam. Have a good afternoon.”

               I waved goodbye to her as I turned to head for the register. She walked away with a bit of skip to her step – something I’d never noticed her do before. As the cashier rung up my items, I contemplated what all of this meant. It wasn’t like it was even a smidge significant in my life, but to think that something so great as the relationship that Todd and Maria had could be torn down by something as simple as distance troubled me. It made me wonder if anyone could ever be strong enough to withstand distance in a relationship – any sort of relationship, for that matter. If was lost at sea, would my mother give up on me? If I was mugged and left for dead, would Tyler Reeves wonder where I was? These questions did not hit a nerve for me, but I did feel the cold emptiness of loneliness. I didn’t like to think about it, because it always led to self-pity, but I wondered if I ever would have a relationship like Todd and Maria’s. In retrospect, I was glad I had never been extremely envious of what they had, as it must have been shallower than what it appeared to be, though Todd had been extremely invested in the relationship. It was strange, how what I thought of the world had turned upside down while I had glanced away.

               The cashier’s harsh voice broke my train of thought. I pulled out my wallet and handed him the cash he asked for. He forced a painful smile, but something about the way his brow furrowed as he fumbled with the register or the way he handed me my change and receipt made me wonder about what his relationships were like. I thought about it for a moment as I put away my change and replaced my wallet, but shook my head clear of the thoughts as I reached for my bag of groceries.

               The clouds had broken, and rays of sunlight shone between them like forest creatures that had been hibernating all winter and eagerly anticipated the seasons ahead of them. It was still a bit nippy, but passing people on the street, I noticed a more hopeful look in several people’s eyes. I suppose the weather has some sort of effect on moods, but I always thought of rainy days as any other day, while others would subject themselves to melancholy jazz and seclusion in their home. It never was something that I had put any thought into, but noticing that others let themselves be so drastically affected by weather was a bit strange.

               I arrived home at the same time as my mother. She was sweating from her yoga, and out of breath, so I assumed she had jogged home. I offered her the newspaper, but she shoved it away without batting an eye. “I need a shower, Adam,” she muttered, shaking her head as she unlocked the front door. I smirked and followed her inside. I put away the vegetables and the cream as she hurried to have a shower, then retired to my room.

               My bed was made and my floor was clean, but the remaining surfaces of my room were extremely cluttered. Books, papers, and other various tools and trinkets were piled on my dresser, and my nightstand was crowded with newspaper clippings. A collection of sketchbooks were scattered across the surface of my bed, some full, others lying open to incomplete sketches. I sat on my bed and picked up one open to a sketch of a woman’s head with no face. I stared at it for a moment, scrutinizing my work and trying to recall why I hadn’t drawn in a face. Disappointed at myself for not finishing a drawing, I picked up a pencil and began to fill in the woman’s features.

               It wasn’t until I had drawn the lips that I realized why I had not filled in her face. The woman in my sketchbook was a graphite replica of Ondine. I shuddered, shutting the book and securing it with a large rubber band. I fiddled with the pencil in my hands and gazed out the window. I had only met this woman twice. I knew nothing about her. She was an ordinary woman. What was drawing me to her? What mystery could she possibly present to me? I fell back on my bed in exasperation, then reached for my journal and turned frantically to a clean page.

               Nov. 3                                                                                                                                  

               Unnecessarily juvenile thought process regarding a stranger. Not enjoying my alone time, can’t think of anything but her. Not something I want on my mind, I’d rather come up with some innovative fishing technique or something relevant to my life. These aren’t even philosophical questions that I ask myself, they’re just ponderations. Frustrated.

               I shut my journal with a sigh and tossed it onto my nightstand, knocking over a few newspaper clippings. I thought about picking them up, but decided against it, instead opting to try to take a nap before my mother cooked dinner. Maybe soon Ondine would get out of my head; maybe she would realize she wasn’t welcome there. Maybe I’d move onto something greater in my life and not live with my mother. Maybe I’d have something more valuable to ponder than my old high school friends and a meaningless crush. I’m 21, I thought to myself. I should be past this. It was then I realized how much people changed in high school, and how I hadn’t very much at all. It was then that I wished I had found myself then, because right then I was lost.

               And it was then I realized that it might be a while before Ondine got out of my head.