Gael returned her smile, wholly unaware of the girl I had in store for him, the girl who would have been easy to see, if he’d only been looking in the right places. If only I’d worked faster.
I watched, in agony, as his heart lifted just a little.
I was in deep, deep trouble.
And so was he.
how gael became a romantic
As you’ve gleaned by now, Gael was, quite frankly, in love with being in love. And unfortunately for me, his romantic tendencies couldn’t simply be undone. They’d been building for quite some time.
Below, a few of the key moments that made him this way.
Age seven:
A rainy recess in second grade. Gael huddled under the metal slide, seeking shelter. A vision of a girl with auburn hair and freckles, drizzle-kissed curls. Mallory Nolastname (she moved to Ohio in third grade; Gael couldn’t remember it) took a seat next to him on the dry gravel.
“We’re supposed to go inside,” she said.
“Okay,” said mini-Gael. “Do you want to?” He liked Mallory. She always made a point of sitting at his table during art rotation. She had the 120-pack of crayons, the one with exotic colors like “Desert Sand” and “Macaroni and Cheese,” the ones his boring 48-pack didn’t have. She let him use whatever colors he wanted, even if he had to fill in almost the whole page, which used a lot.
Mallory stared at him and scooted closer, so their legs were touching, his OshKosh B’gosh jeans and her fuzzy pink tights.
“I love you, Gael.”
She kissed him on the cheek.
She ran off.
Then the teacher’s aide came out to tell Gael the rest of recess would be held in the classroom, where it wasn’t raining.
Even though Mallory Nolastname told two more boys and a girl that she loved them that afternoon, for those brief moments underneath the slide, rain tapping metal like a steel drum serenade, Gael felt more alive than he ever had before.
Age ten:
Valentine’s Day. His parents never celebrated it. They’d get him and Piper cards and maybe some of those silly candy hearts, but nothing for each other. His mom said that it was a total Hallmark holiday and that it only existed to empty the pockets of those in relationships. His dad said he didn’t like how it made single people feel bad.
Gael was out of toothpaste, and so he went into his parents’ room to get some (don’t worry, it’s not what you’re thinking), and there, on the bathroom mirror, scribbled in lipstick: I love you a little more every year
A secret message, just for his dad. Because no matter how much his mom decried the day, she couldn’t help doing something for the person she loved.
Age thirteen:
Eternal. Sunshine. Of. The. Freaking. Spotless. Mind.
Holy hell.
Gael had rented it and watched it with Mason because someone on Reddit said that Charlie Kaufman was pretty much the greatest screenwriter ever. Mason thought it was weird and boring, but Gael watched slack-jawed as a bumbling dude (who vaguely reminded him of himself) and his firecracker of a girlfriend, Clementine, first erased each other from their memories and then struggled to get each other back. The orange-haired Clementine left quite the impression on Gael, his thoughts somewhere along these lines: If you love someone enough, even if you try and ERASE THEM FROM YOUR MEMORY, they still won’t be gone.
Clementine is hot.
Awkward guys can actually get cool girls from time to time.
Love is messy.
I want that.
Age seventeen:
Maybe the most important moment, the one that solidified it all. The one that told him this: that all he’d been waiting for, all he believed in (or had believed in, before his parents split), all he’d been searching for since that first declaration under the slide—it was his, and it was there for the taking.
An email from Anika, the day after the planetarium: hey— i thought of you this morning.
it made me happy.
that is all.
xx,
a
missed french connection
Gael made his way back to his house, the frat hangouts and crappy college apartments turning quickly to tall maples and manicured lawns and cozy porches. As his feet crunched across scattered leaves, he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He had gone from Birthday Dinner Fail to sharing pretty much his favorite meal with an adorable stranger. Whom he’d kissed. On the lips. Out of nowhere. It was almost too much to handle.
Gael knew that he shouldn’t get ahead of himself, that he was fresh out of a breakup. There was a reason that they called it a rebound. Because it was clichéd. Obvious.
He kicked at a pile of leaves and tried to push the crazy thought out of his mind.
Clearly, he was a complete mess, he thought, quite reasonably. He didn’t need to bring someone else into this.
(I couldn’t have agreed more. Which is why I had planned to save Gael’s real-deal romance for months later, when he was in a better place, at least somewhat. But just like you humans, I don’t always get what I want. Far from it.)