Good morning. People use that term so often. “Good morning!” What if it wasn’t always good? Then what would people say?

I think a lot. He even told me that. “You think to much.” Is what he said. I smiled at him and stated. “Yes I do, but if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be me.” And it was true. If I thought to little I wouldn’t be me. I’d be an Angela or a Cathy. I wouldn’t be Mary anymore.

So I continue to think. I continue to be my Mary self. Yes, that pun was intended.

Not he though. He was everything I wasn’t. He was living in a separate universe, according to me. Flawless and practically perfect, in every way. Like Mary Poppins, only in boy form. Or, Bert Poppins? Do Bert and Mary get married? If they did, I would have wished his name was Bert. That way he’d have to marry me.

Sadly, no. His name wasn’t Bert. It was Avan. Another flawless name. I told him so to, but he disagreed. He said he wasn’t flawless in the least. I asked him why he thought that. I never got an answer.

While were on the topic of names, I wonder what name would fit my future baby. I wonder what my future baby will be like. I imagine it’s a girl, mostly because I am a girl, and we girls have only one side of thinking.

Maybe she’ll be blonde. With brown eyes. She’ll like the color blue. Her first word will be Dada. She’ll be allergic to cats and spinach dip. Candy will be her biggest weakness, and she’ll never pick up a Barbie, only a rag doll. Oh, and her name wont be Mary Poppins or Bert Poppins or Avan. It’ll be something sweet and unique. The way my name never was.

What I’d give to have a flawless baby girl. But being a person filled with flaws, there is no way on earth a perfect baby would pop out. I am clumsy and distracted easily and I think to much.

I asked Avan if he liked my name. He surprised me with a yes. “Its warm and happy.” He spoke, dazed. Like he was thinking of all the ways my name was good. If only I could think that way.

My nose is cold. I asked him about it today. I had gathered up all my guts (which is a silly expression, you cant pick up guts. Nor can you gather them into an assembly of some sort) and called him up, asking him to come to the nearest coffee shop to talk. I hated coffee. I hated the taste, the smell, and the fact people drink it religiously.

But Avan loved coffee. I wish I liked it. Maybe he would like me a bit more if I liked coffee.

My nose gets cold and numb when its rainy outside. He sipped his coffee and thought about my question. I sipped something he ordered me, guaranteeing I would love it. It wasn’t to bad. It was a strawberry crème frappachino. He got a java chip frappachino.

“Maybe its instinct. Your nose just doesn’t like cold, rainy weather.”

“How could the rest of me like cold, rainy weather, but have the tip of my nose refuse it?”

He laughed. I loved it when he laughed. I just wanted to record his laugh and play it over and over. It was a symphony to my ears.

I told Avan lots of things. Just things though. Maybe even stories, but never how I really felt. I never told him that I wanted to record his laugh. Or how I wanted to take a billion pictures of his smile and post them on every inch of the world. He didn’t like it, how I didn’t tell him how I felt.

“You talk about nothing all the time. Why do I get the feeling you delay and put off what your really feeling?” Is what he said. He pretty much nailed the whole entire system of how I function. I tried to smile as natural as possible.

“You know me to well, mister Avan.” And that ended the conversation on my part. He still wasn’t satisfied.

Avan reminded me of the Disney character Aladdin. He was quick and witty and strong and handsome. With dark, thick hair and a pearly white smile. The only difference is that Avan had everything he could ever want in his eighty room mansion. He didn’t like the lifestyle, so he enjoyed talking to me. I wasn’t exactly wealthy, which was refreshing for him.

But he did have a magic carpet. In which he took a lucky girl on and showed her mystical wonders beyond what you could ever imagine. Unfortunately, soon they would take advantage of his magic carpet rides, and he would have to dump them off.

Then I would be here, picking up the pieces.

One thing I knew about Avan was, he certainly didn’t want to take me for a ride on his magic carpet. Sadly, it would stay that way.

Forever.

I only knew Avan for about a month now. I cringed at that feeling. I hated how I wasn’t like his other friends, who’ve known him for a year or two. I was new. I hated being new. I wanted to know him since birth. And be there for him every step of the way.

We weren’t best friends. Actually, we were barely friends. Mostly because everyone says I’m critically insane and he doesn’t know me to well. I’m determined to change that though.

Ever since I met him, I cared about him. I couldn’t describe it, but I did. I worried about Avan and prayed for him every single day. I would never tell him though.

My dreams were scary. They were either frightening, or just plain odd. They never made sense. I never had good dreams. But a few nights ago I had a good dream for the first time. It was about Avan.

I wonder if my life is starting to revolve around him. Like Avan was the sun, and I was a small planet like Mercury, keeping close by.

I didn’t call him today. I figured I had been bothering him to much lately. I didn’t want to pressure him into being my friend. I cared way to much about Avan to soil a slow-going friendship.

The next day I saw him at our high school. He looked disappointed in me. Suddenly a million things raced through my head. I was trying to figure out what I did wrong. I walked up to him at lunch.

“Avan?” My voice squeaked. He crossed his arms, disapproving, expecting an explanation. “What did I do?” I asked, frustrated. I dropped my books on the table and fell on the chair next to him, pouting.

“What happened yesterday? You didn’t call me. You usually do, I was worried.”

Ooohhhh. Now I feel stupid.

I wish I could fly. I watch people fly everyday. Why am I still stuck on the ground? I asked my father what he thought about it. He said it was just gravity, and that one day I would over power it. A nice answer, but at what time would I overpower it?

Today is Friday. I have no plans. I usually don’t plan things for Friday. It just seems unnecessary. Maybe I would read a nice book tonight. That always makes me happy.

Its Friday night now. I was reading “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath when Avan called me. Our chats were usually nice, this one was a little uncomfortable though. He wanted me to go to Janie’s party with him. Not as a date, he clarified, just as a friend. I hated that expression.

Just as a friend. We’re just friends. Why would we be just friends? Couldn’t we just be friends? SEE! You cant say we’re friends without a just in there.

I said I was in the middle of an enthralling book. He said he was already getting ready, and to wear something nice and dressy. I hated when people acted like they didn’t hear my answer.

I only had a couple dresses. Only one or two were “fancy.” Avan had never seen me in a dress. I wonder how he would look at me. Would he look at same old Mary, or same old Mary in a dress?

When I arrived at his apartment/penthouse, I saw him in the open two story window. I stopped myself at first, and observed him. He was still getting ready.

He continued to straighten his black tie, and shove up his black suit’s sleeves. He had a white dress shirt under it, in which he rolled up the sleeves. His tan creamy skin shined. His hair looked lighter from his usual dark brown.


Did I ever tell you his hair is beautiful? It was long and styled, wispy and messy. I had come back to reality and realized it was chilly outside.

I walked in, went up the stairs and knocked on his door.

“Coming!” He yelled, casually. That’s all he ever was. Casual. Was he ever nervous about anything? I doubt it.

I had tried really hard, to make myself look good. That rarely ever happened. I usually just let my brown hair go wavy and crazy; I put nothing on but painters pants, doc martens and giant oversized T-shirts.

But not tonight. Tonight I looked like a model from one of those coach magazines. Well, maybe not that great, but still. I was wearing a navy blue short dress my mother had wore when she was 18. And a little dark purple purse. I felt comfortable.

He opened it, and handed me his genuine smile. If I could have imprinted that smile into the front of my brain, I would have.

“Cool you’re here. Let’s go.” I followed him in contentment. I barely knew Janie. I knew that she was rich, just like Avan. I knew she would see Avan tonight, and strut over in some amazing million dollar gown and comment on how he was amazing or brilliant. Amazing AND brilliant. Then they would fly away. Where would I be? Stuck on the ground, waiting for my chance to overpower gravity.