The Time Machine of Her Thoughts

Tommy.

She could never forget him.

He was the wildest, funniest, craziest person she'd ever known. Although it'd been almost 30 years since she last saw him, 30 years since that fateful day at school, still, his face was painted all over her memories.

She'd constantly think of him. Especially late at night, as she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, next to her snoring, fat farting ball of a husband.

Tommy...

Serena sometimes wondered why... Why had she been thinking so much about Tommy? It wasn't as if her life was lacking. Materialistically, aesthetically, anyway. She had a big sprawling house up on a hill, expensive cars, two beautiful kids.

Her husband, despite his somnambulant noises and noxious bodily emissions, was affectionate, and he was a fantastic father and provider. Beyond all doubts, she was living the "American Dream." So why... Why was it she longed for Tommy? And why was it she felt so vapid, so spiritually empty? Why had she been on antidepressants for the last five years? Why did she drink a couple too many glasses of wine...every single night... Why?

Why couldn't she stop thinking about Tommy, her high school boyfriend? It was so long ago that they knew each other. So long ago that they could unknowingly pass by one another in public.

But still. But still...

Tommy lingered and remained the protagonist of her most surreptitious, nocturnal thoughts...

God, it was all so long ago. They were only 18. They wore baggy clothes, flannel shirts. They looked like rejects from the cast of Clueless. They listened to Nirvana and Coolio.

God, it really was all so long ago. She was the quiet, skinny girl. He, on the other hand, was anything but quiet; he was a household name in their neighborhood, infamous for his idiotic exploits. The day he came to school with a mohawk, jumped up on a table and started that food fight in the cafeteria had sealed his legend...

They'd been boyfriend and girlfriend only briefly. Ever so briefly. But she'd been ruminating on that time, nostalgically, romanticizing those carefree days. She'd been thinking that it was the peak of her life. Those times with Tommy, in his arms.

He was her first and she was his. Her first love. The first guy to give her butterflies. The first to make her heart skip a beat. The first to make her forget the existence of time.

Tommy...

Tommy was so unconventional, so exciting. He'd always play pranks on her, calling her phone, at night, when she was in her bedroom, his number blocked, *69. Whenever she'd answer, he'd do funny voices. Impersonations of Joe Pesci and other mob movie characters were his specialty. He could make her laugh so hard that she'd cry. To her, he was funnier than any sitcom or standup comedian.

He'd even initially courted her through pranks. He sat behind her in social studies class and would whisper funny things to her, crack jokes and do crazy voices. During lunch, he'd sit at a table nearby and chuck fries or M&M's at her.

Normally, she'd be annoyed, or even revolted by such antics. And her friends certainly were. They'd warned her about Tommy, said he was a total loser.

It was true that he was one of the misfit kids. One of the outcast, rebel without a cause youngsters. Those freaks that sat in the back of every class. Those freaks who wore lots of black and had facial piercings. Those freaks who smoked cigarettes in school bathrooms and spray-painted street signs. Tommy and his crew were the sort of stereotypical "bad kids" you'd see in a corny afterschool special, the sort of rotten apples selected to participate in one of those "scared straight" prison visit programs where menacing, heavily tattooed inmates get up and scream in kids' faces... They were those type of kids...

Serena's stuck-up friends vehemently hated Tommy and his whole stupid motley crew. And while Serena agreed that Tommy's compadres were morons, for sure, him, though, Tommy, oh, he was special.

Maybe it was his eyes. His sparkly blue eyes. His eyes so effervescent, gleaming like sapphire gemstones. He had these long curly eyelashes also. She'd have to use mascara to get such eyelashes, but his were all-natural, and they were stunning.

Aside from his eyes, Tommy wasn't exactly remarkable, at least from an anatomical standpoint. He had a rather plain face. He was taller than her but not that tall. He was skinnier than her but not so skinny that he looked weak. Strangely, however, somehow, someway, despite his being gracile, he walked with a distinct air of confidence. As if he were a one-man-army. As if he were made of steel.

Along with his eyes and humor, it was probably that confidence that attracted her. Or maybe it was his insouciance. It was as if Tommy didn't care, and she'd never met anyone like that. It was as if nothing could faze him. He'd never be angry or stressed. Not when teachers yelled at him. Not during scary thunderstorms. Never. He was always cool as a cucumber. She never remembered, not once, seeing him without a smile stretching over his lips.

God, he made her smile too. Made her laugh so hard. All his silly voices and the crazy contortions he'd make with his face.

He could even be dirty as a pig, and she'd listen to him, enraptured, for hours, on the phone, her ear sore from pressing the receiver to it, but she couldn't get enough of his insane banter; even when he'd joke about having anal sex with her, surprise anal sex, saying how next time she bent over to pick something up, he'd run up behind her and mount her like a baboon, penetrate her anally. Then he'd make wild animal sounds, prognosticating, foreshadowing the surprise "buttsexual" experience. How he'd take her "bootinity," give her that "booty work."

For the record, he never did that and never tried anal with her. And again, such antics would normally revolt her, but the way he'd talk would be so funny and ridiculous that she couldn't put down the phone.

In actuality, he was romantic, and would sometimes break into her locker, leave a flower, chocolates, and a sweet note for her. Sometimes they'd ditch class and sneak off into the woods behind school, sit on a log and cuddle and kiss forever. He was an amazing kisser too, so passionate. To this day, no one has ever kissed her like that.

She'd imagined them running away together, eloping, moving somewhere romantic, like Paris. Them growing old together. Riding off into the sunset. Being together forever.

But sadly, as all things do, their time together ended. But not how she thought. Them together in Paris, eating candlelit spaghetti dinners, them holding hands, them walking along the river, living their final days like that, nope, that was not to be. That was not how it ended.

It ended with him pulling another of his dumb pranks. But not on her. On the school....

His idiot friend, the shifty-eyed kid who always wore the backwards Metallica cap and the cut-off jean jacket, oh, and the other dumbass, the chubby kid with the rattail, those two, those Beavis and Butthead forerunners, had "double" dared Tommy to pull a fire alarm.

What a dumb thing to do, pulling a fire alarm. Why would anyone think that's funny? Plus, it carried the punishment of automatic expulsion from school. Plus, they were only one week away from graduating high school. Yet, Tommy still did it, and despite his wearing a hooded sweatshirt, he was fingered on security footage.

Tommy got expelled for pulling that fire alarm and was promptly sent off to military school. Shortly after, his parents moved. Then his trail went cold. No one knew anything about his whereabouts, other than he was sent off to military school. Being sent off to military school, in those days, was similar to being banished to Siberia. And this was before the internet age, so it was way easier to lose track of someone.

They never got to say goodbye, and she cried, every night, for weeks. But she found solace in books and became immersed in her studies. Then she eventually went to an elite school, got an MBA. Then she worked in the corporate world, earned truckloads of cash, and married a corporate raider, a hedge fund honcho, and after having kids, she decided to become a homemaker.

And yes, she loved her cute kids more than anything. And yes, she loved her big hairy bear of a husband too. But still, but still... she found something missing.

Every day for her seemed to be the same. Every smiling waiter at every fancy restaurant, every fancy department store, every 10,000-square-foot house in her neighborhood, every Audi, Mercedes, Maserati, Tesla, Porsche, Ferrari, every spa, every place she went, it all seemed the same. Every day conjoined, cast a spectral, Siamese twin of itself. Everything was so boring. She missed the excitement of being young. She missed the feeling of anything being possible. It was as if now, everything was done. Everything was written. As if she were sleepwalking, simply going through motions. As if her life were a scripted play.

She longed for those days when everything was so new, so fun and funny. To her, nothing was funny now. Everything, everybody she knew was so serious. Everyone was depressed. Everyone was seeking an escape. Everyone in her neighborhood, like her, was on pills or drank too much. Despite her pricey gated community's glitzy exterior, the place was soulless. It was an evening gown, jewelry and makeup on a corpse.

So she'd taken to watching old TV shows, old movies, listening to old music. She'd fantasize, think back on her schooldays. Those wild high school days in particular. But mostly she'd think of him.

Tommy...

Finally, she decided to search for him. But she couldn't find him on Facebook or anywhere. Did he change his name? Move to another country? Did he pursue a career in the military? Did he go to Afghanistan, Iraq? Did he die there? What happened to him? It was the mystery, the not knowing that bothered her most.

She considered hiring a private investigator to track him down but decided against it. What would be the point of that? What would she even say to him? How could she not come off like a creepy stalker in a Lifetime movie? Did she really think they'd have a miraculous, romantic reunion and run off to Paris? Now? Come on, she thought to herself, life isn't a Danielle Steel novel...

Whatever happened to him, whatever he became, she hoped he was well, and she hoped he was happy. Or at least content. She'd like to think he found a nice girl, settled down, was living a more fulfilling life than her. She hoped so anyway.

Whatever happened to him, he'd always be a part of her. He'd always live on in her memories. And she'd keep him in her fantasies. Forever. And in her fantasies, he'd never get old. He'd never go bald, never grow ear hair and nose hair, never grow a big floppy bulge on his belly. He'd never snore or fart in bed. He'd always be young and handsome. He'd always be her Tommy, the class clown with those hypnotic, iridescent eyes.

In the small hours of night, she'd see him. She'd see him when she'd close her eyes and enter the time machine of her thoughts. She'd see him, at night, in that realm, that watery space between sleep and consciousness. Her mind racing, she'd lay on her soft, custom-made mattress, and she'd worm and toss and turn to a silvery sheen.

All she had to do was press her eyes shut, and she'd see him. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, his smiling face. Every time she closed her eyes, she'd be back there, back in the 90s, back in high school, back in Tommy's warm arms. She'd be with him again. Back in the woods behind school. And he'd make her laugh and kiss her like no one else could.

And every time she closed her eyes, entered the bliss of her fantasies, she would once again be young and free.

And in this space, she would never, ever have to get old.