I’m looking back at my high school yearbook now because of her: Mollie. Mollie What’s Her-Last-Name. Wowza. But we didn’t go to school together or anything. It’s a Friday night and I’m in my upstairs bedroom, sitting on the floor beside my bookshelf, observing the crater-faced, bespectacled loser with the suffocating tie and black dress shirt that used to be me. How can 2005 seem so long ago? Sure, I may have contacts and Proactiv now, but in three years, not much has changed about me. I have always, for as long as I can remember, wanted a cool girlfriend. I can just picture the look on my classmates’ faces when they see the dork they used to bully eating burgers and sharing cheese fries with a perfect ten… Just a really cool girl. And that’s Mollie.
I’ve got homework I really need to work on, especially for that lecture I missed, but it’s too late – I’ve got Mollie on the mind. Her blonde hair that sweeps across her forehead, purple highlights, her smudged black makeup, her jean shorts and tight black vest under various band tees. She looks great in those shorts.
It wasn’t until my sophomore year in college that I knew she was a musician… Come to think of it, that was the first time I even knew Mollie existed. I was passing through the art building on campus after watching a friend’s cello recital when I stopped in my tracks; I heard an electric guitar shredding somewhere in the near distance. So, who do I find in the music room after following the noise but a perfect ten playing a white guitar, picking chords sloppily yet expertly with chipped purple nail polish? She didn’t see me peeking around the door because she was so in the moment. One of her hot pink tank top straps was hanging off her shoulder. I don’t know what she was playing. Some rock song I thought I’d heard on the radio or at the mall.
In that moment, I started picturing us together. I was me, but better because she was behind me, holding onto my arm. She would like the same music as me, the same video games as me and all the same hobbies as me, because that would make my interests, and me by association, a bit cooler. Me, but with a nicer car and more talent, and clothes from Abercrombie – or clothes from there that actually make me look better than my older brother. Yeah, my family can afford it decently, but that stuff fits Damon better. I guess it comes with the frat bro status. It’s not that I think I’m ugly or anything, ‘cause I really don’t think I am… It’s more of a lifestyle improvement mission I’m on. I want a better image.
So, I saw her for the first time last semester. I’m a junior now, but I’ve still got Mollie on the mind. I tried finding her Myspace, but I still don’t know her last name. The only reason I know her first name is that Damon told me after I described her. He and his buddy have seen her band perform.
The next time I saw her in person was at a bonfire. I don’t get invited to as many of those as Damon, but his best friend who comes over to our house a lot on weekends was throwing it outside the riverwalk, so I got a free pass. I got there when it became dusk. Not all the drunks were Greeks, but all the Greeks were drunks. I hung out with a few people from my department, standing around the fire, when my heart stopped in my chest – Mollie. There she was, just on the other side of the flames! She was sitting in a camping chair with a solo cup in hand, elbows resting on her knees and looking cooler than anyone else as she listened to a story the guy beside her was telling a group of people.
Damon, sober for the evening (ever since he had to get that liver transplant two Thanksgivings ago), walks up to me, his Chucks crunching the brittle autumn grass under his feet. He follows my eyes to see who I’m looking at and stops when he sees the purple highlights.
“Dave. Dude. Why don’t you talk to her, get to know her?”
I got a heavy dosage of testosterone at that moment, feeling like that was a challenge. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe I will.”
I didn’t move an inch. Damon laughed.
“What do you like about her, Dave? That’s what I always try to think about before I ask a girl out. Makes me think about why she’s worth it. It makes it more natural.”
A small crowd were cheering her and her two bandmates (according to Damon, one is a bassist, and the other is a drummer) on to perform a song. They all decline, Mollie saying something about not even having their instruments, “you moron.” She aimed that last bit at Greg, a total jerk I’ve had a class with and bump into on campus a lot. Guy’s a business major. Greg was now sitting beside her, scooching closer to her in his chair, enough to put an arm behind hers and chat her up. I don’t think Damon likes him, either.
“She’s just… Like, look at her! Why wouldn’t I like her?”
Mollie was looking down at her cup, not making eye contact with Greg but giving small laughs at his jokes. Then she looked up… In my direction… At me? Goose bumps raced up and down my arms. Just as quickly, she looked away. Her eyeliner that looked like what’s-his-face from Green Day and her mild grimace always made her look annoyed, but I like to think that her heart softened when she saw me.
I continued the conversation, Damon still standing tall with his hands stuffed in his board shorts. “Like, just picture me and her. We’d get pizza at Lucelli’s, let me drive her around with the windows down so everyone can see her in the passenger seat. She’d show me the best bars in town and I’d get backstage passes to her shows because the guitarist is my girlfriend – “
“Guitar and vocals,” Damon chimed in.
“Really?? Oh dude, that’s so cool. Anyway, we’d share cheese fries, and she’d have private band practices for me – clothed or not is up to her, I’m not picky – and she’d always be down to play GTA.”
Damon groaned, trying to give me a lecture about something in response to that, but whatever he said was totally blocked out.
I wondered what music she liked… Evanescence? Avril Lavigne? I don’t have a favorite artist, but hopefully she likes a bit of Deftones. Metro Station’s got some good stuff, too. I don’t wanna admit to her that I like listening to the old disco music Mom has on CD from when she was younger – that is, unless Mollie wants to listen to it and she likes it. If she deems it cool, then so will I.
That was less than a month ago. Now, I’m in a hospital. No, not for me; I’m in the waiting room for Damon’s checkup that he gets twice a year since his transplant. Mom and Dad were here an hour ago, but Mom insisted on leaving to take care of her headache, and Dad had a scheduled tee-off with his boss at the country club. So that left me. It’s almost time for the five o’clock news that I’m sure they’ll play on the square television in the corner. I take a bathroom break and come back to my seat.
I’m in the middle of a prayer asking to be blessed with fast food instead of a pudding cup supper when my throat goes immediately dry – Right there, across the waiting room, sitting under the TV and flipping through a magazine and wearing one tangled earbud, is Mollie. The girlfriend of my dreams. The girlfriend who will change my life. Tonight, she’s wearing a gray hoodie with the school logo that looks two or three sizes too big, athletic shorts, and Uggs. Probably the most surprising thing about her appearance is that she’s not wearing her smudged eyeliner. How long has she had brown eyes? I honestly don’t remember ever wondering what color they were. Or if she had eyes.
Bored, she starts biting her nails, and that’s when I decide to take the plunge. Standing up, taking a deep breath while simultaneously puffing my chest out, I close the space between us. She jumps a little, slightly startled at seeing my shadow.
“Sorry – is this seat taken?” I point at the one beside her.
She processes my words before shaking her head. “Go for it.” Her voice is lower for a girl. It’s exactly how you’d expect her to sound.
She sticks her head in the magazine. I’m starting to panic and fear that I won’t think of anything to say. I feel my ears turning red. My mind races for something to say, finally settling on the first complete thought I get.
“I’m here for my brother.”
She looks at me as if for the first time. “Ohhh, you’re the kid from the bonfire? And the one outside the band room?” I can’t tell if the slight rise in her voice is from genuine curiosity or sarcasm. Gosh, what a babe.
My face flushes and I nod once like a moron. If she really saw me watching her practice, what else had she seen me do…? I shuddered at the thought. She smirks, while the rest of her face remains deadpan. “I’m kidding. Yeah, I know you, Dave. It is Dave, right?”
I nod again and point at her earbuds. “What’re you listening to?” I think of probably a hundred artists I’m expecting it to be, but none are what she says.
“Gwen Stefani. I really liked her with No Doubt, so I’m trying out her newer stuff.” She takes the earbud out, pauses her iPod and puts them on her lap.
“Oh. Cool. Your band is good.”
“Thanks – you’ve heard us?”
“No, not yet.” Mollie looks at me expectantly for a few seconds, but when I don’t say anything else, she slowly tries to turn her head back down to the magazine. I hear the anchorman on the news begin reading from his teleprompter and take that as another sign to go for it. I hear myself speaking, but it’s like I’m outside of my own body.
“Do you wanna go out sometime?”
She picks at the dead skin around her nails. “Um…” she fidgets, but I think it’s just because she’s being humble.
“Do you like pizza? There’s a great place on campus – Lucelli’s? Of course you’ve heard of it, it’s totally popular.
“I don’t like pizza.”
“Oh. Well, what about, like a study date? We could meet at the library. What classes are you taking?”
“I’m not a student here.”
This throws me off. “Huh?”
She looks at me like I should know any of this. “I work retail. College isn’t exactly on the table in my family. The guys in my band go to school here, so that’s how I do stuff on campus.”
Okay, now I’m starting to get a little bummed. People seeing us together at college was supposed to be, like, ground zero for my higher status. People would see us walking to classes with my arm around her shoulder protectively, sharing a coffee from the cafeteria, and going to games together. Keyword: together. Campus. Together. College!
“Huh. Well, what’s your favorite food? Is it burgers? It’s burgers and cheese fries, right?”
“No. Dumplings.”
Okay… Uh… That’s cool, right? I mean, it’s not very macho to split some dumplings with your girl, but I’m sure it’d be fine if no one I know saw me do it. But still, something is pressing me to ask more, but I’m scared of the answers I’ll get.
“Favorite singers or bands?”
She answers immediately, as if she has a list already formed. “Paramore, Peter Frampton, Fall Out Boy, Lenny Kravitz, and maybe Third Eye Blind. Haven’t decided yet.”
“Hmm. Thoughts on Deftones?”
“They’re okay. Kinda annoying sometimes.”
I’m starting to sweat through my shirt, but I must press on.
“Oh. Do you know any good bars, then?”
“I don’t drink – I was at the bonfire with a girl from my church group because she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her there.”
“Alright, then… Favorite video games?”
“None. I think they’re a waste of time. I’ve got other stuff I’d like to do.”
Oh no, no, no, no – this can be salvaged, right? Right? What do you do when a girl that you want that girl to be is not exactly that girl? What am I supposed to do with her now?
I’m probably staring at her with my mouth hanging open, but thankfully I’m saved by the door to the doctor’s office being opened, and out comes Damon after shaking hands with the doc, looking chipper. He smiles at me, then at Mollie. And to my confusion, we both stand up from our chairs. Damon approaches Mollie, but even weirder is that she… hugs him? Pats his cheek lovingly? And he hugs her back?
I cannot get a single coherent syllable out of my mouth. Damon grabs Mollie’s purse from her chair and holds it for her, now staying in a side-hug with her. Mollie smirks at me one more time, cocking her head. “See ya, Dave. We’re gonna go get some Chinese food and maybe when you get home you can hear me play guitar for Damon – fully clothed. I hear you’re not picky.”
The two other people in the room cough to suppress their laughter and pretend to not have listened to our whole conversation. They walk out the front door together, Damon giving me a “No hard feelings?” shrug when he turns around once. When the door closes behind them, I become aware of my mouth still wide open and instantly shut it.
A nurse’s voice rings over the PA system.
“Attention patients and visitors, the cafeteria is officially open for dinner. Tonight, we have an endless salad bar, as well as smothered pork chops and a selection of pudding or Jell-o for dessert. Thank you for your patronage!”
Huh. Maybe pork chops wouldn’t be so bad. I could bring some to Dad if he’s still at the club. And Mom likes pudding more than I do… Anything is better than dumplings.
