“So how about those abs? You know you wanted a piece of that,” my friend Connie jibed as we walked haphazardly out of the bar.
Dawn is breaking – just barely – and the black sky was starting to change its hue into a more bluish-bruised tone.
“Naw I dunno, he seemed a little cross-eyed,” I said, trying very hard to focus on the path we were on before tripping over another pothole. I’d sprained my ankle the week before, and I wasn’t going to repeat it.
“Bullshit. He was totally checking you out and you know it,” Connie snorted.
Connie and I have known each other since we were 12. You could call us BFFLs – nothing in our worlds escapes our conversation, kosher or not. That inevitably included topics about boys.
We decided to sit by the river and watch the sunrise. Connie had been engaged not too long ago, and she wanted to celebrate whatever that was left of her single life. Her announcement came as no surprise to me – Brad was a wonderful man – although her willingness to settle did, when she swore she’d remain independent for the rest of her life.
We sat in silence in the comfort of each other’s presence before she finally spoke:
“By the way, Levi’s back in town.”
“Levi. You know, Levi Ackerman? The guy you used to date in high school?”
“I never dated anyone.”
“You absolutely did. You even wrote his name on your notebooks. Three times. With different dates.”
“Sweetie, you went on three dates with him. You even kissed him. Remember? Mr. Ash-face?”
And that’s when I recalled – Levi Ackerman. Calling him Ash-face was an understatement. He always had a permanent frown on his face. He was difficult to talk to. On a scale between introversion and extroversion, he broke it. He was death itself.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“He found me on Facebook,” she began. “It was weird. I totally forgot about him, but then his name showed up and the next thing I knew, we’re friends with each other. He’s asked about you and says he wants to catch up. You should check your Facebook every now and then, you know. Get out there and see what’s going on with the world!”
Slowly, my memories returned. Of course. Levi Ackerman. I’d totally forgotten, but I did write his name on my notebook. I did talk to him. And I did go out with him three times – all of them dates. We even kissed on the last date. That was ten years ago.
But here’s the thing I told no one about – I made him up.
Continue reading ““The Thing About Levi””