Well, I suppose that it still is. Nothing drastic occurs to Collyn at any point during this story. The only drastic changes are the ones he awakened in me.
I suppose I should explain.
My senior year of high school I was chomping at the bit to graduate. With two AP classes and a college course I was taking at night, there was time to think about little else. I had no social life. I rarely hung out with friends and I had never had a boyfriend. I’d never even been kissed. Academia consumed my every waking moment.
I, while planning out my classes for the year, had scheduled in a study hall as a brief respite from the insanity of my week. I figured, looking at my work load, that I deserved it. Every day, the last period before the final bell rang, I walked into the cafeteria, took my place alone at the same table, and began intently doing my work.
Life continued in the same fashion all throughout the fall and the winter, and into the spring. It wasn’t until June, after prom had taken place, yearbooks had been signed, and graduation was imminent that a ripple disturbed the placid routine of my life. My day ran as usual and, for the final period, I walked into study hall, sat down at my table, began my work, and moments later saw a figure plop itself into the seat across from me.
I began to look up as a pulled me headphone from my ear (thoroughly peeved that I was disrupted from the dynamic duo of Tchaikovsky and Philosophy), and was greeted by the sight of a boy that seemed both strange and strangely familiar.
It was like falling in love with a book and then seeing your exact visualization of the protagonist walking down the sidewalk towards you. I felt as though I was just meeting someone I had already known my whole life. That moment was the incestuous child of déjà vu and nostalgia. I peered at him quizzically and asked, rather irascibly,
“Can I help you?”
He held out his hand in anticipation of my shake and said,“You’re Andee. I’m Collyn. I figured it was time that we met.”
IMMEDIATELY I was furious that he thought he could use the nickname given to me by my parents and used exclusively by my inner circle. I looked at him and, with all the bitchiness I could muster, snarled,
“It’s Andrea,” and, refusing to shake his hand, I moved my headphone back to my ear, already beginning to mentally lapse back into the musings of Euclid.
Before I could process what he was doing, let alone react, Collyn had stolen my pen and written his name and number in the top margin of my book. I ripped my earbuds out and was ready to screech at him that NOBODY writes in Andrea Taylor Leshinski’s books when he murmured,
“Call me tonight” and was gone, back to the table from whence he came. I had known this kid for all of thirty seconds and he was already the bane of my existence. Unable to focus on anything but the audacity of this virtual stranger, the final bell rang reminding me that I had been far less productive than I had originally anticipated.
When I got home that night, I asked my sister if she knew anyone at school named Collyn. Being the sassy-sophomore-socialite that she is, Noelle replied,
“Umm… duh. Can you be a little more specific?” I ran to fetch my book and leafed through the pages to find the one which he’d vandalized.
“Uhh… Collyn Drake?”
“Oh my God! Of course I know him! Why do you ask?”
I told her about what had happened during study hall and asked what his deal was. She looked at me rather skeptically and very doubtfully muttered,
“Ummm, Andee, he’s kind of a ‘bad boy’. He doesn’t go to girls. Girls come to him.” With that, she bolted out the door shouting her parting words, “I’m late for tennis! We’ll talk later! Don’t do anything stupid!” and was gone. I released a sign of exasperation and began to pack my things. I had a headache to beat the band already, and the three hours of Philosophy that loomed before me filled me with nothing but dread.
Philosophy was dismissed early that night on account of a freak thunderstorm that had blown in from God-knows-where and whipped the whole town into a panic. While the rest of the class was griping about having to walk to their cars in the rain, I was silently ecstatic. Thunderstorms are my only true inamorato and it had been far too long since we’d been graced with one. Something about the almost tangible electricity in the air makes thunderstorms the very visceral representation of adventure.
In hindsight, I like to tell myself that the storm was the reason I called him that night. I wasn’t in my right mind. The storm had gotten me overexcited and audacious. The lightning had scared me and I needed to be with someone. There are dozens of excuses that I use and every single one is complete crap. While I don’t deny the almost magical power of thunder cracking and the exhilarating sensation of watching lightning strike across the sky, I think that from the moment he sat down at my table, I knew there was something different about Collyn.
I must have dialed and hung up the phone a dozen times while driving home before I slapped myself across the face and gave myself a pep talk to the tune of,
“Get your shit together, Leshinski. He’s just a boy. A cocky, overconfident boy who is trying to play mind games with you. Don’t stoop to his level. That’s what he wants.”
Apparently I’m fantastic when it comes to reverse psychology because the moment I finished telling myself not to call him, I had already dialed his number and hit send.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hello?”
I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard his voice. For as intelligent as I am, it never occurred to me that he might actually, you know, pick up the phone. Quick, Lenshinski, I thought. Think of something clever to say.
“You owe me a new book.” Wow. Smooth, Andee. I heard a deep, guttural laugh come through the phone followed by a sentence that actually ignited every nerve in my body.
“How does this sound; come pick me up and I promise you’ll have a brand new book in your hands before the night is over.” An adventure AND a book? How’s a girl to turn that down?!
After telling him that that had better be a promise and asking where to pick him up, I pulled a 180 and reveled in the fact that my night, which I had believed to be over, had hardly just begun.
As I pulled up to the address he had given me, I was confronted with a dark house that appeared to be anything OTHER than awake and active. Great, I thought. This kid lied to me. After about ten seconds of internal struggle, I decided to cut my losses and head home.
BANG BANG BANG!
I nearly had a heart attack for the third time that day as I jumped in my seat before reaching over to unlock the passenger door for a face that was slowly starting to become familiar.
“Where the hell did you come from?!” I hissed, so as not to wake the whole neighborhood with my slowly subsiding hysteria. Collyn’s face broke into a smile that I swear could elicit world peace and he chuckled as he said,
“Hello to you too, Andee. To answer your question: originally I came from my mother. Tonight, however, I crawled out of my bedroom window and down the tree,” and then with a wink, “I have this killer headache so I went to bed early.” I just kind of stared at him for a full ten seconds before gracefully blurting,
“So where are we headed?” Have I mentioned that I’m the picture of coy seduction? He smiled this gorgeously mysterious half smile and said,
“Wherever the wind takes us.” With that, we were off.
We drove around talking for a good hour about everything. He was a sophomore. Parents divorced. Living with his mother and her boyfriend and hardly saw his dad, who chose to spend time on a barstool rather than with his kids. Had two half-sisters who were both older than him but stole all the attention. Loved dogs, but had two cats at home. Fairly vanilla things, if you ask me.
I was feeling very disappointed and about to give up on him being anything other than the poster child for mediocrity when he said,
“You know, I’m really happy we’re out tonight. I think that if adventure was a concrete thing, it’d be a thunderstorm. They’re so raw and powerful.” You could’ve knocked me over with a feather. I pulled the car over, realizing that my whole life I’d been teased for my love of them and a virtual stranger comes along and verbalizes my exact thoughts. I told him this and he laughed,
“I’ll be damned. I thought I was the only one! Let’s try another one. On the count of three, name your favorite song.”
“One…”
“two...”
“…three! BAD DAY BY R.E.M.!” We stared open mouthed at each other before absolutely cracking up. We laughed for a straight five minutes and then continued on with the game.
“Favorite color?”
“Green. Favorite season?”
“Autumn. Favorite holiday?
“Halloween.” The similarities seemed endless. We were almost out of categories, asking questions like,
“Ocean City, Maryland or New Jersey?” and
“French or Italian dressing?” when suddenly Collyn stopped, grabbed my hands and looked into my eyes with a stare that I swear could see my soul. Just as I was about to question him, he asked, very quietly,
“What’s your favorite flower?”
I laughed at his seriousness and replied flippantly with “Sunflower!” As I looked into his eyes, still smiling, I saw that he still at the same burning look on his face. He instructed me to start driving again, giving me turn by turn directions to a place that he refused to say anything about. After driving for over an hour and with my gas tank dangerously flirting with the “E” light, he told me to pull over by this lone cornfield and hop out of the car. Shocked, I shouted,
“ARE YOU FRIGGEN INSANE?! It’s almost midnight and we’re in the middle of nowhere! No way on GOD’S GREEN EARTH am I setting foot out of this car!” He hopped out, ran around my car through the raindrops and headlights, opened my door, and pulled me out into the downpour. I didn’t even have time to put my shoes on before he was dragging me into the field, running through drenched cornstalks and feeling the water soaked leaves strike our faces and the muddy earth between our toes.
He stopped.
Before us was what appeared to be a dwarf alien’s crop circle, barely six feet in diameter, looking like the room at the top of a castle tower. Before I could contemplate that, however, I realized why Collyn had brought us here. The entire circle, regardless of its size, was surrounded by sunflowers as tall as the cornstalks. Dozens of them, each topped with a huge, seeded sun. It was like something out of a movie.
As I turned around to ask him how he found this place, Collyn caught my chin and pulled it up to his, pressing his lips against mine.
It was remarkable how, in that moment, I realized that my entire 18 years had passed with me sleepwalking through life. I had spent every waking moment planning for the future and preparing for what was next. I had never taken a moment to truly do something for the fun of it. Yes, I had spent time with friends, but the only friends I had were the kind who invited me along when there was an odd number of people or if they needed me to drive. I had never emotionally connected with anyone in really any way other than having a similar taste in movies or liking bowling. I had been in a daze, living only in the sense that my heart was still beating.
With that kiss and the rain and the sweet fragrance of pollen all overwhelming me, I had never felt more alive. I was soaked with rain at 12:30 on a school night with a boy who I’d only just met and, as that realization struck me, I started to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that you can feel building from your toes and snowballing up through your body until it hits your lungs and finally explodes from your lips. The kind that makes your stomach hurt with the most glorious and wonderful pain, the kind of ache that you feel for days and every time you do you smile with nostalgia. I looked in his eyes and saw the freshly ignited fire in my reflected back to me. I was alive.
Obviously, as I’m sitting here writing this and not living my life in a sunflower house, that night ended. We left the field and headed home. My parents wanted to know why I was sopping wet when I walked in the door at 2 a.m. and I told them that I got caught in the rain with a friend, then hurriedly ran up the steps to call Collyn. We fell asleep on the phone that night and talked regularly throughout the next several months. In August I left for college and our exchanges became fewer and fewer. The year has cycled back again, through summer and autumn and winter. Today is May 31st, and it’s thundering off in the distance, the first storm I’d seen since that night that changed everything.
Yes, eventually that storm ended. The night ended. Reality set back in. But in my mind, every time I picture that night, there is no ending. We never drive home. We never leave the field. We just stand there in the pouring rain, staring into each other’s eyes feeling more alive than we’d ever felt before. In my mind, that night is endless.