Silver Afternoons

Alisha and I were looking. Again.

I didn’t know what for. Neither did she. We were just looking. Searching for something that wasn’t there.

That was the great joy of being with Alisha. She didn’t need a reason to look for something lost. She didn’t need to lose something to have to look for it. She didn’t need other people. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was announced that Alisha could survive on nothing but Pringles and Diet Coke for the rest of her life.

Alisha and I were best friends, awkward around most other people. I think that’s why we became friends in the first place - neither of us fitted in with anyone else, but we fitted perfectly with each other; her with her obscure literary references that no one understood, and me with my constant cross-examination of human behaviour. Alisha was the ideal sample test, psychologically speaking, for the simple reason that she couldn’t care less, which I always put down to the amount of caffeine being pumped through her veins. She also had a lot of personality to cross-examine, and her passionate emotions kept me entertained for years.

“I found it, Micky! Just where I put it.”

“What did you find?” I replied, crawling out from under her burgundy bed.

“I don’t know, but I feel like I’ve found it. I’m grown intellectually because of it, yet I can still enjoy the simple pleasures that bubble wrap holds. I’m healthier but lazier, smarter but more naive. I can keep my head while my thoughts spin others’. It was lost treasure and now it is mine.”

“Fantastic. Can we eat now?”

“Yes. Yes we can.”

I smiled as she pulled out a Mountain Dew from her sock drawer. I had come to the conclusion that many were hidden around her room, but I’d long since given up looking for them.

Alisha never got stressed by school work. For her, I think school work was like a break from the activity her brain usually had to cope with. Alisha wrote stories in her spare time. Less like stories, actually, more like novels. She didn’t think the pressure she put herself under for these private projects was stress, so much as spring cleaning for her head. When her brain had heaved up too much information and imagination for it to be of any more use to her, it shut down completely, leaving her curled up in a little ball of frustration for me to unravel and dust off.

We shared the Mountain Dew in comfortable silence. Alisha would hesitate occasionally and frown slightly, and then continue to consume the sugary drink.

“I wonder how much Mountain Dew someone could drink before they were so hyper they couldn’t stand up?” I pondered out loud.

Alisha leaned back against her desk leg and closed her eyes. “Micky, you don’t need Mountain Dew to fall over. You’re uncoordinated as it is.”

“Why, thank you for that unexpected show of support.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

She smiled contentedly and folded her arms. Cobra Starship was blaring in from her sister’s room next door. Her eyes flew open with delight.

“Let’s play a game.”

“Alisha, we’re sixteen.”

“I know – you came to my pathetic excuse for a party. Let’s play a game.”

I sighed. Arguing with Alisha was like wrestling with a pot plant - futile and pointless. She was the boss in any situation. Anyone who dared think otherwise would be exterminated for their own good. I liked being bossed around by Alisha. She was good at it. Alisha was the most wonderful person on Earth to me. I didn’t love her, oh God, no. If I had, she’d have beaten me up. Every boy wanted Alisha, but she was “above normal things, especially boys”. She always said that she didn’t want to be swept off her feet. She wanted to sweep someone else off their feet. I had considered pointing out that she did this by just walking down the street, but had decided against it for personal safety reasons.

“Ok, what kind of game do you want to play? Monopoly? Charades?”

“No. Those games are boring. Whoever created them was deficient in the creative-slash-vibrant department. We’re going to play an Alisha Game.”

“Explain the rules.”

“There aren’t any. We make it up as we go along.”

Days with Alisha were spent like this. They were good days. Golden Mornings. Silver Afternoons. Violet Nights. Always colourful, like her. Any day with Alisha was a fantastic day. Even if all we did was play Nintendo and laugh at stuff on TV, it would still be a really good day. Alisha made every day for herself. The sky was smothered under a thick cloak of clouds and the grass stretched itself over the garden, trying in vain to catch some sun that might accidentally wander over its territory. I would make terrible jokes and she would laugh.

In hindsight, Alisha probably did love me after all. And I probably loved her. I don’t mind that I’ll never know. I’m happy not knowing.


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To clarify, this is my English short story. Alisha is based on expectofuckingpatronum.tumblr.com

Real Alisha, I hope I haven’t offended you, but what I know of your personality is fantastic and makes a great story. <3

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awwww!
polka dots. nom nom nom.