#millcsime

                            he huffs through the scarf she’s knitted him, complete with skipped stitches and crooked rows.     “ i’ll get better next time. “      she had told him, wrapping the garment around his neck. to him, the sound of next time was like music to his ears; a promise that this, whatever it was, would never end. there would always be another day, another scarf, another lifetime. 

           his footsteps dwarf hers and it’s hard not to laugh at the way she waddles through the snow, knees high, balance wavering. he is compelled to wonder whether she’s holding on for support or she just doesn’t want to let go. it’s probably both. it’s always been both. lips bend in a smile——– he’ll hold her up as long as she needs him to. 

                         recalls, briefly, listening to the sound of a romance film resonating through the walls of his childhood home. a suave line, a dramatic pause, a swell in the music, his sister and her friends squealing——- feet beating carpeted floor and high pitched giggling. he never understood those movies, but then again, he had never been in love before either. there were no suave lines and orchestras with her——– just cups of coffee shared during early mornings, the sounds of flipping textbook pages and equation upon equation upon equation.

           he was skeptical and unwilling. there was no way someone like her could bend someone like him. if teachers and principals and threats of summer school and suspension couldn’t move him, what made them think a quiet little girl could? but boy, did she ever. charlotte, he supposed, had some sort of magic to her. wide doe eyes causing a type of hypnosis; soothing voice lulling him into a safety he rarely felt within the confines of their school. he began to hunger for it but was convinced that there was more than just a pretty face and a textbook knowledge of tenth grade chemistry to her.

                       “ you alright? “       hypnotizing. so much so that he has a hard time realizing that she’s speaking to him now and he’s not simply recalling her same hushed tones from the depths of his consciousness. doesn’t answer, though; instead, squeezes her hand and place a kiss atop knitted yarn. she smiles and it’s summer. 

             she’s lacing on her skates now, fingers ever dexterous——– she’s going to be a doctor, a surgeon, one day. maybe that means her knitting skills will improve——— and she looks at him, head canted, doe eyes batting lashes. gets on with it, puts on his pair, rises on unsteady feet. he’s prepared to crash, to surrender his delicate pride; but instead, he stands, small arms wrapped around him. she offers him a smile.      “ whoa there, big guy. one step at a time, yeah? “ 

                      there’s a glint in her eye; she knows. he wants to back out—– tell her that they should just go home. this will probably be a waste of time. what if other people see him? what would they say? but there she is again, tugging at him gently, coaxing him towards the ice. one step at a time. 

              for a long while he had figured he was merely an obligation to her——– that once he had gotten the grades he needed, she’d wipe her hands of the filth and be done with him. but the small smiles in the hall spoke louder than she ever had. charlotte sterling never waved at anyone before she met him. she had melted into the crowd before; her name indistinguishable from any other, but after she had cast whatever spell she had cast on him, there was no light except for her. 

                       she was a hard worker, that much he knew. in the hours not spent with him or on school work, she poured over books and books and books——— though most notably, was her love for comic books; new issues of grognak the barbarian shoved between medical journals intended for withered old doctors, not bright young girls with their whole lives ahead of them. the comics, he had decided then, meant that there had to be more to her than chemistry and biology.

            “ it’s easy. just like walking. “      hypnotizing. ever the teacher, she eases him onto the ice. just like walking. skates swipe against ice, large hands gripped around her small forearms while she manages to glide backwards with ease. one step at a time. 

                        there was more to her, alright. so much more that it seemed like every day was like solving a new mystery. learned that she was good with a gun; watched her shoot ten targets down from thirty yards away. she was a singer; a real song bird if you were lucky enough to hear her. and loved to dance whenever a good tune came on. to him, she was a picture of perfection. he never understood why someone like her could stand being around someone like him.

          maybe he’s gripping her too hard now because she stops. they’re standing in the middle of the rink and everyone else is melting away. she’s looking up at him with those eyes and he can count every freckle on her face. she speaks softly, no set of words ever sounding so good.     “ don’t worry, nate. i’m not going to let you go. “      

                  maybe this is the moment. a suave line, a dramatic pause, a swell in the music. inches closer to her— closer, closer————————– then gravity happens.