Bailey Evans

I am in love. And she, is in love with someone else. We are just friends. I don’t know which one of these is worse.

She’s got a wall in her room dedicated to boy bands and Polaroids from concerts. She collects movies and Rolling Stones magazines. When you walk into her room, there’s always a distant buzz from her record player and it smells faintly of cinnamon.

Most of the time you can find her lying in bed, in lingerie, just staring up at the ceiling surrounded by a cloud of smoke. She’s got a lighter in one hand, an old notebook in the other, full of all the thoughts that keep her up at 3 AM answering to the bottoms of shot glasses. They’re the thoughts responsible for the blacked out nights and mascara tears down her cheeks.

But she’s effortlessly gorgeous. And even with chipped, painted nails, one look at her will make your head spin. She will remind you of the ocean, beautiful and calming but deeper than what meets the eye, a total mystery.

The first time our paths crossed was freshman year of high school in world geography. Naturally, the alphabetical order of assigned seating placed us side by side. I was small and dorky, she was intimidating. But I am skeptical of love at first sight.

We never said a word to one another all year; I didn’t even know anyone in that class. I was in all honor classes except this one because for the life of me I couldn’t remember the geographical terrain of any given place on earth. Still I got by with all A’s while her returned tests all 65 or lower. But I knew she wasn’t dumb, she just didn’t care.

“Bailey, this is your final warning, if you don’t keep your head off the desk and pay attention I will send you down to ISS,” Mrs. Gerning always told her. But it became routine and it never truly was a "final warning." There was always more to come.

Bailey Evans. Her name alone can bring a smile to my face. So casually cool and honest about everything. Her clothes weren’t in style; she did her own thing without a care in the world. When she slept in class, her head faced inward toward me. She wrapped her head phones around her ear rather than just wearing them so I always knew what she was listening to. Occasionally her nose would bleed, on the same side that was pierced. At the beginning of the year I would always panic and jerk her awake but after time, the reason had become clear so I kept travel tissues in my backpack and placed one on the desk everyday.

I don’t know why I never tried talking to her. I really wanted to. Her being compelled me; I didn’t want to know who she was, I needed to.

Right before spring break that year, I decided it was time and it took everything I had. As soon as the bell rang, I darted for the door then stood by the lockers outside waiting for her as other students flooded behind me. I knew she would be the last one out. I nearly fainted from the suspense, but as she stepped into the hallway, time moved in slow motion. As skeptical as I was, I do believe in that moment, I was in love. One hand pushing the door open while the other flipping her hair. She glanced both ways then pressed her finger under her nose to check for blood.

“Hi," I said in a quick and out of breath sort of manor. She looked confused and only nodded a "what’s up" in return. “I’m the guy who sits next to you in world geo.”

“Oh, that’s you? The Kleanex kid. Thanks, punk,” she gently fist bumped my shoulder, then starting walking away. I smiled and hesitated.

“Uh wait,” I said quieter then planned but she turned. “After school I was planning on walking over to that taco place down the street. Nothing official just an idea but if you wanted to come, you’re more than welcome to.”

I tried to sound less nerdy than my glasses portrayed me to be and she knew it, so she cracked a grin. “You paying?”

“Sure,” I shrugged.

“Cool. Count me in.”

“Wait, really?” But she had already put her headphones back in and started walking away. I waited at the school for a solid hour but she never showed. Still I walked to the taco shop, kicking myself because I should have known better.

When I rounded the corner, I looked up and there she was sitting at a table outside ordering food. My mouth fell agape, I couldn’t believe it, but I didn’t stop walking.

“You owe me $13.57 because you said you’d pay,” she said extending her hand.

“Keep the change,” I replied, handing her a twenty, still in awe.

“Well I’m not gonna complain about that. Thanks, punk.”

“My name is Josh.”

“Hot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your name, it’s hot,” Bailey leaned back, relaxed. She was so comfortable in her own skin, it made me envious. “My boyfriend’s name is Jonathan, but he won’t let me call him Josh for short.”

“I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend. Not that I was asking you on a date or that this is one, just, I didn’t know.”

“Probably because it depends on who you ask. Ask him when I’m in the room and I’m all his but, out of sight, out of mind.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, stuttering.

“Ha, aren’t we all, punk…aren’t we all.”

So that was all it took. Three years ago today I asked Bailey Evans to go get tacos with me. And now we are best friends. It’s our friendship tradition to always go back and sit at the same table, on March 15th. Not much has changed other than I got a little taller since then. I still have glasses and her nails are still always chipped, just a different color. She is still mad for Jonathan and I’m just a shoulder to cry on. She told me when they kiss, it’s like heaven and she forgets about all the hell he puts her through. And that’s why she can’t walk away as much as she wants to. She hates goodbyes.

Together they were like the seasons, so predictable, their patterns. All it took was a blink of an eye to loose sight of one another, they never changed for the better. Jonathan could catch her bare like winter and have his ways then walk out to find the flowers of spring leaving Bailey all alone. And by the time she had caught up, he was falling into autumn.

But it all came into the light, just how badly she was bruised, even deeper than the skin, the day I walked in on her before she committed suicide. There was a folded piece of paper stuck in the rim of her door knob that I began to read and it all came together. I busted through the door where I saw her window left open. My heart sank and I could feel the corners of my eyes fill up tears as I frantically ran outside to search. I screamed her name and my world was a blur.

I was on my knees crying in her front yard when a hand touched my shoulder and Bailey sat down next to me.

“I can’t,” is all she simply said.

“There’s always a way out, you never have to do that,” I replied.

“I know. I know now that you are my way out,” she said. “If I can’t find a way, I know you will help me. I’ve already been dead inside for so long, I want to know what it’s like to be alive.”

We sat there talking until the sun came up. She wanted me to teach her the constellations. She loved the idea of endless galaxies and that we were so small and incompetent. If I was bold enough to speak my mind I would have asked why memorize that? I wanted to learn the ones that the lines on her back made. And that we didn’t need shooting stars, she was exactly what I’d wish for anyway. But I didn’t say a thing about that, just pointed up and told her which star was which.

Neither one of us directly looked at each other, but rather straight ahead into nothing. That morning the sunrise was beautiful, but still my attention found its way onto her. The cotton candy skies reflected into her eyes and through the complete silence, it was so divine.

“What’s it like to really be in love with someone?” I asked.

“It goes from ‘kiss me’ to ‘kill me’ real quick,” she said with a laugh.

“Sounds miserable.”

“Ha, you have no idea.”

“Bailey, how come you never take your own advice?”

“I wouldn’t have any advice if I wasn’t experiencing it first hand,” she smiled, but that can only hide so much. I could see through it, her sad eyes gave away the pain although it had been a good disguise for quite some time. We went inside and burned her note she left. As she took a seat on the edge of her bed and lit a cigarette and laid back. Staring up at the rings of smoke, a tear escaped.

“We never truly will get it right, will we?” she said to me. “Karma isn’t real, it’s just that no one will ever have a good first go around.”

And, in that very second, I found my voice. Not only for myself, but to save her as well. “I’ll always rework my math homework,” I began. “Because I second guess myself. I try on different outfits for twenty minutes before getting out the door. I flip back and forth between the pages of the menu and still don’t know what I want to order. But one things for damn sure, I never stopped and asked if I had made the right decision to fall in love with you, I’ve always been certain about that. And so far, I’ve been right.”