I Was Never Meant to Stay on Rooftops Like These, My Moms Promise, an Empty Dock

On the woman still learning how to welcome herself into rooms without reading them first

The Dock and the Empty Plank

I was at the foot of the dock, where the wooden plank met the grass, the same plank my friends and I would lie flat on to catch gobies with our bare hands. The older kids were at the far end in a circle. I climbed up behind them, close enough to hear, not close enough to be in it.

One of the older girls turned to me, still in my damp bikini and soaked-through shorts from earlier in the day, and suggested I go change into dry clothes before I got sick.

She promised they would wait for me, that they'd still be there when I got back.

I ran to the cottage, changed as fast as I could, and sprinted back outside. The second the dock came into sight, my feet froze on the grass. They were gone. The empty wooden plank sat quiet against the water.

I thought I was hanging out with them but I had just been following them.

I stood there in my dry clothes, wondering how many times that day I hadn't noticed them trying to shake me before it finally worked.

"Is That Jessica?"

On a chilly day in the sixth grade I texted my friend Jason, 'Are you sure they're okay with me coming?' after he invited me to meet him at the park with our friends Lucas and Todd.

'Yeah, it's cool,' he responded. 'Who cares?'

Looking out the window, I assessed the cold. The leaves were golden brown, and blowing in the wind. People walking by were bundled up, though only in lighter jackets.

My phone chimed again; after reading a message from Jason that said 'We're leaving now,' I put on a light jacket that I never got the chance to wear to school.

The park wasn't far from my house, tucked behind my elementary school. My nervous feet carried me there quickly. Nearing the sidewalk that turned into the school, I spotted Jason, Lucas, and Todd approaching from the other end of the street.

From too far away I noticed Lucas's eyes narrow and the confusion that slowed Todd's steps. Lucas put a hand above his eyes to block the sun, while Todd asked, "Is that Jessica?"

Lucas might have asked, "What are the odds?" Yet through the muffle of distance and self-taught lessons, I heard, "How did she know we were coming?"

"What is she doing here?"

I turned around on the spot. My heavy feet carried me home.

When my mom asked why I was back so quickly, I told her we all agreed that it was too cold.

"Kids these days," she mumbled to herself as I went up the stairs, to my room. "Afraid of the teensiest bit of cold."

My Mom's Promise and Jason's Party

Years later in high school, Jason texted me again, 'Just come tonight, what's the worst that could happen?'

I stared at my blank message bubble with glazed-over eyes. My mom told me a story once about a party she went to when she was fourteen. A boy that she liked invited her to go with him, and even though she knew no one there, she went. Her date ended up ditching her for his friends, leaving her alone on the couch all night. All the other girls at the party were already in tightly formed cliques, and none made room for one more. My mom told me that she made a promise to herself that night, that she would never go anywhere relying on just one person she knew to stay with her, even after the boy from the party ended up being my dad.

I debated defending what Jason didn't understand, that I had already learned this lesson the hard way, from both my mom's life and my own, but before I could come to a decision, he texted again.

'You'll feel alone and awkward?'

'Yeah. Exactly that.' I texted back. I didn't want to go to Jason's party. I didn't know anyone who would be there, except for Jason himself. I didn't want to cling to him all night, and I was sure he wouldn't have wanted that either.

'When will you finally stop letting social anxiety dictate your life?' Jason asked, without hesitation.

'When will you finally stop psychoanalyzing me every time you don't like what I have to say?' I responded just as quickly. I waited a few moments for him to shoot something back, something quick and witty, but he never even started to type. So I continued. 'I won't put myself in the position to feel like no one wants me somewhere. I know you're going to say that that's not what this is, but I've been in that position enough times to know what will get me there.'

'Fine. It just would've been fun if you came. Fun for you.'

'Maybe it would've. But I'm sorry, I'm not coming.'

'Whatever.'

"Don't Follow Me": The Rooftop Party

"Don't hold me so closely," Michael said from beside me on the bench, gently removing my hand from his forearm and shrugging my chin from where it rested on his shoulder. "If people see us all tangled up together, snuggling, no one will want to talk to us."

I looked around the rooftop for another couple as closely wound as we were, and there weren't any.

"Sorry," I said, scooting an inch away.

Michael did the same, in approval.

"No one likes to talk to the touchy couple. We don't wanna be that couple." Standing from the bench, his eyes searched the party before turning back to me once more. "I'm gonna go get another drink. Don't follow me."

After disappearing down the ladder and into the apartment, I was afraid Michael would purposely stay inside, forcing me to socialize and find my way without him. But my fears only deepened when he returned so quickly, joining a circle of people talking on the other side of the roof. When he left me in sight, but alone.

When I could see his eyes so easily, so clearly, but they consistently refused to meet mine.

Meant to See This Night Sky

Standing from the bench, I turned to the sparkling night sky. I hadn't noticed the view. It was nothing special, but it was unique, and I enjoyed taking it in. A billboard hung so close it nearly reached over my head, and I played with the thought of how high I would have to jump to reach it.

Turning back to the party, struggling to find my boyfriend so fluently enmeshed in this scene, I suddenly felt so far outside of it.

If he was the needle in the haystack, I was the sore thumb.

This was exactly what my mom's promise all those years ago had always protected her from, but still, I didn't want to make it myself.

I was never meant to stay on rooftops like these, but I think maybe I was meant to graze them for just a moment.

I was meant to see this night sky.

The Message to Peter: "Little Girl"

"I sent Peter a text about feeling like a little girl, or unwanted, or something. I don't know, I can't really remember." She nodded along, taking notes. "But I knew I was being unreasonable. I was putting too much on him." I played with the ring on my index finger, spinning the stone between my knuckles, anxiously. "I was just upset because he didn't want to hang out one night. But we hang out every night. I shouldn't have been that upset. It came from somewhere else."

"What did the message say?"

"I honestly can't fully remember," I looked at my phone in my purse, and back at her.

She motioned towards my purse.

Reaching in, grabbing my phone, and typing 'little girl' into the search bar of my messages app, I found the text immediately. "Okay, here it is. I texted him: 'I don't know, it makes me feel like some little girl trying to play with the older kids or the cool kids, and not reading the room right that I'm not wanted there, and I'm actually annoying them.'"

She blinked once, staring at me. She didn't take any notes. "How long did you think about that message before you hit send?"

"I typed it and I sent it," I said, a little guilty, a little cheeky.

Leaning back in her chair, she clicked her pen once and held it to her page. "Can you read me that message again?"