Served On A Platter Of Paper
This is not a love story. If you’re in search of a love story, this isn’t the one.
Don’t be fooled by the way you see him making me laugh, or wish you had what we have when you see us playing together in the park. Don’t wish a man could make you smile with his words the way you see me smiling, don’t do any of it, don’t fall in love because it will only hurt you.
This is not a love story, but it does begin with a boy and a girl. I am the girl sitting on the cliff staring into space with memories of the love I once had on repeat in my head, and the boy, he’s probably somewhere trying to find another woman to deceive into falling in love with his perfect smile and rosy lips.
His name was Dylan. When I was 12, he was the most annoying kid I knew—loud, stubborn, and always in trouble, which I found satisfying. I was a quiet kid, and Dylan, with his angelic face, perfect hair, athletic build, and sinister smile aimed at me, irritated me immensely. I hated how he threw rolled-up paper at me in class and always avoided punishment. He was too pretty for his own good and used it to his advantage.
When I was 16, he still was the most annoying kid I had ever known, but in a way that was so attractive I had to feign anger when he pulled one of his silly pranks on me. I also still hated him but I had gotten so used to being his crumpled paper target, that when I wasn’t in his range, I wished I was. You could call it Stockholm syndrome but it happened.
One beautiful morning in my junior year of high school during Mr. Benson’s British history class, I felt the crumbled paper hit the back of my head. I had had enough and I knew that Mr. Benson wasn’t one to fall for Dylan’s pretty face and perfect white teeth, so I reacted.
“Dylan, could you grow up already?! I’m sick of you taunting me and I think it has gotten a little boring for anyone watching!”
“Miss Miller is there a problem?” came Mr. Benson’s stern voice.
“Dylan keeps throwing these crumbled papers at me” I held up the most recent one as evidence.
“Is this true, Mr. Campbell?”
“Not at all, sir. It seems our school’s brightest student might be a little delusional”
“Delusional? I’m surprised your slow brain could even think up a word like that”
“And I’m surprised you don’t already know you’re not as smart as to be walking around school like you’re the queen of nerds”
“Oh, and I’m surprised you don’t know you’re not as good-looking or as athletic enough to parade yourself around school as the king of jocks”
“Enough!” Mr. Benson shouted loud enough to get the class, which had been thrown into a frenzy during our exchange, back under control. “Detention! Both of you!”
And that was how I, Frankie Miller, got into detention for the first time in my life.
I hated detention, and I hated it even more because I had to do it with Dylan Campbell. And again, he threw one crumbled piece of rolled-up paper at me. I turned to glare at him and he mouthed ‘Open it’. I was skeptical and while I was still glaring at him I opened it.
‘I’m sorry’ that was what the letter read. I raised my eyes to meet his and he shot me the cutest puppy dog eyes that will give a golden retriever puppy a run for its money and while I became a pile of mush on the inside, I shot him one last glare and turned back to my desk.
I felt another piece of paper thrown at me and I ignored it. By the time detention ended, I packed up my bags and left immediately, wanting to put as much distance as I could between me and Dylan.
I was walking up when a car pulled up next to me, it was Dylan.
“Let me drop you off, Miller”
“I’m fine, thanks”, his car was moving slowly after me.
“Come on, I don’t bite. And I’m sorry about today, pretty please” I rolled my eyes at him, “Come on, it would be easier for you to get home if I gave you a ride and we could listen to Noah Cyrus while we’re at it”
That stopped me in my tracks and made me stare at him wondering how he knew I liked Noah Cyrus. That also softened my heart and made me enter his car.
As promised he played Noah Cyrus’s songs starting with July, but on a low volume so we could still hear each other while we conversed. The conversation felt easy and lighthearted, and I was surprised by how easily I laughed with him. Sometimes we sang along to the song that was playing and joked about how horrible his singing was.
It was only when we got to my stop that I realized that I hadn’t given him my address or pointed him in any direction.
“I live just by the next block”, he said like that was supposed to explain why exactly he knew my house. “Hey, um… you were right about what you said earlier, about me being a slow brain, I’m actually failing English and I need your help, can you help me?” he shot me those puppy dog eyes.
“I’ll think about it”
And I did. I thought about it and agreed to it and for the next few months before senior year, I hung out with Dylan Campbell as his tutor, and as more on some days. It happened slowly but surely, and by summer break I was in love with Dylan Campbell and fortunately, he was in love with me too.
The months that followed were filled with us living what I thought were our best lives and with me planning what I thought would be our future. Unfortunately, Dylan had other plans which included him moving all the way across the country for college and nowhere in those plans did he think it was important to tell me. That hurt me and when I talked to him about it, he said he knew I would want to fly all the way to be with him and he couldn’t let me do that.
“You don’t get to decide what I can or cannot do with my life!” I yelled at him with tears in my eyes.
“Frankie, I’m doing this for you. I want you to pursue your dreams at MIT; I can’t let you give that up”
“And because you were so sure that my life revolved around you, you didn’t think it was worth telling me?”
“I’m sorry”
“No, you don’t get to be sorry! You freaking don’t! All this while hanging out together, going on movie dates, skiing, all the time we spent together over the summer and you didn’t mention it once. You betrayed me and betrayed my emotions and I wish I never fell in love with you in the first place. I wish I ignored that rolled-up paper that day in Mr Benson’s class, I wish I never got into your car, I wish I never agreed to be your tutor, I wish I never met you!”
“You don’t mean that”
“Oh, I mean every word Dylan. I don’t ever want to see you again” I turned away from him, facing the cliff.
There was a long pause between us. “Frankie, I love you. I always have since the first roll of paper I threw at you when we were 12. If only you opened each one, you would have known how much. I will always love you Frankie, and I hope that you’ll be able to forgive me”
I perceived that he was no longer standing behind me and when I turned to confirm, he was gone. I sat on the cliff and let the tears roll down freely as my mind played memories of us in this park. Having a picnic, riding bikes, feeding people’s dogs and rubbing their bellies, now all of those memories were tainted with the thought that he had all those opportunities to tell me and he kept it away from me.
I was so mad at him and I never wanted to see him again, but why did my heart feel so heavy? Why did it feel like someone had thrust a hand through my chest and squeezed my heart mercilessly?
If this is what being in love and losing love feels like, then I don’t ever want to be in love again. Good riddance.