v u l v a l i c i o u s what is fate, then? 2003-05-03 // 12:41 a.m. She always had pieces of me that she didn't know about, left over from the times that, in the dark, our hands and mouths were trying to uncover something sweet and simple. I remember little things about her, like the way she would growl out "ooh grrl" in a half joking, completely serious way when she saw me naked in the mornings. And those were the best times, the morning sitting in class, trying to concentrate, drawing her body in a corner of a page of notes. She was the penny at the bottom of the pool, which I guess made me the fool diving deep for her. I gave thanks to Alix Olson for words that fit me, that fit her, that made me smile as I walked, with her in my head, across campus. The words that used to fit the most are gone now, and I can't quite remember them anymore. Something about skin, and knees, and talking. And I don't think the connections she used to make will be there anymore. Her voice on the answering machine, the day after the night after the day: "It is I/eye of the fly," and a stack of wordplays heaped one over the other until all that I could remember was her voice saying those first words. It's funny how things happen. How I didn't call her back after that message, because I thought I'd see her around. How I didn't see her around for a few days, so I went to her room. How she was gone with another grrl and I thought nothing of it. How they ended up together about a week after I had forgotten to call her back. Or maybe how she didn't speak to me for a long time, until she finally told me that she had just wanted to hear from me, that she felt like things had been wrong and strange, that she had been wrong and strange, or maybe that it was me. How she cried, and I apologized; how I felt like it was all in vain, because she was a Libra, and they're fickle, but still stubborn. Able to hold a grudge. How she won't be making wordplays after an accident that has left her unable to make the connection between thinking it's dark outside and saying it. Or how the grrl she got together with after I didn't call her, who was her real love, the best kind, hasn't been able to see her or talk with her because of her stupid parents. Things happen. Things move and change. If I had called her back, would she still be able to play with words? Would she still be the same grrl who left the message? back-forth