Kevin and Carly

Quick Intro:
I was getting kind of bored when I was writing something with no plot for the blog posts. So, here's a little something that  I whipped together. Hope you guys like it. :)

American Girl Dolls and Stains

“No, Sally, that's not her.”

“You don't believe me? Can't you see the similarities?”

I steal another glance at at the girl behind my table and consider the possibility. She has the same eyes, minikin hands, and dazzling smile. But no, it couldn't be. That girl is long gone.

“Just go over there and introduce yourself. See what happens, maybe you two will reunite your childhood love and become the couple of the century!” Sally explodes as she throws her hands in the air.

I straighten my herculean back and begin to walk to my table when I notice My. Kenley staring daggers in my direction. I quicken my pace.

Carly? She sounds so different. Older, more sophisticated, much more developed. But it can't be. How long had it been? 10 years? Did she just laugh? I'd recognize that laugh anywhere. It is her.

I only know Carly as a tomboy. American Girl Dolls, she never owned one. Pants, they all had grass stains. Heck, she was the opposite of feminine. She was puerile. Childish. She was my type of gal.

“No kidding, Carly!” I say to interject myself into the conversation. Carly observes me with her dark eyes and continues to express her thoughts to her partner.

That was stupid, Kevin. You should at least know what they're talking about before you open your mouth again. You can't mess this up!

“Wait, did you just call me Carly?” the girl blurts with a sound of surprise. “Do I know you?” she asks with suspicion.

Yes! This is what you've been waiting for, Kevin! Stop staring at her! Answer her!

“Uhh, yeah. I'm Kevin! Kevin Jackson! Do you remember me?”

Please remember me.

Her pretty eyes squint and her brows knit while trying to search for the memory. She is trying to envisage me and I can tell. I have seen that face before. The memory is crystal clear.

Velvet and Dimples

“Mom, I wanna go home. Let's do this another time,” I plead. The small package suddenly feels awkward in my hands. It is a struggle to keep my fingers around the velvet box.

“Another day. Please?” I try one last time.

“Come on, Kevin,” my mother rationalizes. “You spent your own money on it for her. And we're practically here. You can do it,” she reassures me.
“Go, Kewin!” my little sister cheers from her pink car seat as cheerios fly from her small fists.

I can't do this. How do I get out of this? Should I pretend to be sick? Pass out? Wow, I can't believe I did this. Wait, it's worth it. Carly. She's worth it.

“Hurry up, Mom!” I demand with determination.

Wait. What if she's not home? Or what if she doesn't like it? Or what if she's sleeping? Should I wait there? Or should I leave it on the kitchen table? Why didn't I bring a card? Should I have picked her a flower too? She likes the white ones.

“Out of the car, Kevin! I'll get Sarah,” my mom says.

I carefully unbuckle my seat belt and open the clunky doors of the white min-van. The sunshine on my face gives me confidence and the sweet air gives me courage. Suddenly, the small
package doesn't feel so awkward anymore. I can do this.

I can't do this.

My mom holds out her hand for support and I reject it. It is time to be a man. I lead the way up to Carly's porch and ring the doorbell with confidence.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Oh, hi, Mrs. James. Is Carly here?” I ask in a small voice when she opens the door.

A smile spreads across her face as she yells for her daughter.

Oh. My. Gosh. Here she comes. I can hear her. What if I mess up? What if I-

“Kevin? What are you doing here?” Carly asks as she slithers her way between her mom and younger sister. Instantly, her eyes dart to the box in my hands.

What's that look? Is she confused? Mad? Sad? Happy?

“Kevin has something to give you,” my mother says in a matter-of-fact tone.

A silly smile spreads across my face and I looked from Carly to my towering mother.

Help.

“Here,” I say as I clumsily handed the box to Carly. From my position on the porch, I watch Carly finger the velvet box. The air conditioning of the house sends chills up my back and I inhale in. And for some unknown reason, I have a huge smile on my face.

Finally, after Carly finishes inspecting the box, she pries it open. I saw her eyes squint and her brows knit as a look of confusion cross her face. But only for a second. A silly smile that highlights her tan dimples appears on her face as she looks up.

The next few weeks, she wore the diamond ring everyday. I only knew this because my mom told me. According to her, she showered with it on.

Start of Something New

“Kevin?” Carly asks with a hint of recognition on her lips.

“Yeah!” I smile back.

She remembers.

“What are you doing here?” Carly asks as if questioning my intentions.

“Learning,” I reply with a laugh. “What are you doing here?”

“Learning,” Carly shoots back with a sparkle in her eye.