Hand in My Pocket

Everything is gonna be fine, fine, fine.
That’s what he told me.
He said it in his kind voice and corresponding puppy dog eyes as we sat at a table at a food court in the mall. I had poured out about thirty minutes of my frustrations about my family, my job, and school. I ended my minor tirade with a bite of a tater tot and several accolades of him sitting there, taking it all in. I applauded him for it. I would have given the BotY--Boyfriend of the Year—award right then and there and maybe a long night in woods with just the two of us. I was almost going to suggest such a late-night endeavor when his cell phone rang, and we learned that he was supposed to help his dad early in the morning.
Family was important—at least his were at that moment—so we left the mall and he drove me home. We made small talk—I was doing a lot of the talking, which was normal. I mean, we only started dating because of one night that we stayed behind at school for a basketball game and just talked, non-stop: though “The Star-Spangled Banner”, the team line up, a penalty shot and one particularly gruesome scene we learned the following Monday: a player has completely twisted his foot around. Like, one hundred and eighty freaking degrees, but we just sat there yakking away. I felt a connection with him, and I deliberately parted my pink-streaked black and blond hair away from my face so I could see him. This was the equivalency of dropping the shields on the Enterprise or removing one’s enchantment during a blood moon. I think I smiled, which is something I seldom, if ever, would do.
He wasn’t a jock or a nerd, to use the oh so clique cliché of yesteryear. He was just one of the guys who went to school to learn and avoided the social outcasts and the ones that lived north of the border of “outcast land”. I suppose I could say I lived there, or at least had a summer home. Try to envision that girl who wears just enough black, but also has a mini “Pikachu” plush with a blue, pink and white emblem hanging from her backpack.
Just when you think you’ve found Mr Right.
And you know, I’ve been told to take the high road.
I’ve been advised to look to the bright side and to not dwell in the grey.
Well, fuck that…