Nova and the Single Life

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I just wrote this less than an hour ago. It's kind of my own therapy that I just invented. Much better than venting. I imagine it read by the guy that narrated Mary and Max.

Submitted: November 19, 2013

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Submitted: November 19, 2013

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Nova had not had the easiest time of it. She'd spent the last two weeks going about her daily job, watching her usual shows on Netflix, and thinking. She thought about many different things, most of which wouldn't have made sense if they'd made it out of her mouth, but, recently, her mind had been preoccupied with one thing. A boy.

 

Nova knew she came off strange to her own gender, let alone the opposite one. The ways of men confused her, as did the ways of women. Humans altogether made no sense, but she struggled along as best she could. When she'd stopped hearing from the boy, all logic had dropped out of the equation. His friends said, well I saw it coming. I know him. I just didn't expect you to like him as much as you did.

 

Words like these confused Nova. She knew from looking at other people in movies and on television that, if someone decides you're not worth their time after three dates and drops off of the face of the earth, you simply pick up and move on. She found the concept rather unbelievable. Firstly, she liked the men she dated. No matter how long she knew them for. Each, no matter how repulsive they came to be after a lengthy relationship, had things about them that were unique and special. She thrived on interacting with others and appreciating the complexity of their personalities. Humans were endlessly fascinating, and, as she was a woman, she was always intrigued by the chance to see inside a male mind. So the boy's friend had confused her. Of course she'd liked him. He was from another country, from a different mindset. His ideas, likes, and dislikes were similar and yet altogether different from hers. She'd found him fascinating. He'd come from the wrong side of the tracks, as well. That side that parents and friends warn you about, yet you look over anyway. Nova had felt that familiar twinge of self doubt when she'd met him. The voice in the back of your brain that states and restates the ever-confusing equation:

 

Bad boy + (good, shy girl + good, shy girl's attractive friend that is much more outgoing)= (Bad boy+friend)-good, shy girl

 

Or something to that effect. Nova had never been good with math.

 

Yet, within hours, he'd shown an interest. Even after the slightly surreal weekend had ended, he'd made the effort to see her. They'd talked and shared interests, and she'd drank every word in, filing it all in her mental study of men. Then, suddenly, it had all stopped.

 

When talking with a friend later, Nova had tried to feel vindictive and angry. She'd remembered the boy's unwillingness to reveal just how many girls his foreign accent had gotten him. Nova had scoffed at the question when it was asked. Surely, no one could be roped in on simply an accent? However, this particular accent somehow made everything he said even more interesting. Nova could see why the question had been asked. To her friend, Nova had tried to say something mean pertaining to the question, but had come up with nothing. She told her friend, and herself, that it wasn't just the accent, or the knowledge of another country. It was his unfailing politeness, his kindness, his effortless ability to make her feel powerful and special. The bright eyes situated above a straight nose and a mouth instantly able to curl 'round the edges in a playful smile. A very big part of it had also been the way he'd interlocked his fingers with hers, forging a connection it had been unfair to break off the way he had.

 

Nova stared at her phone. Was it something she'd done? Had she been too interested? Too willing to listen? The moment these thoughts flashed through her mind, Nova shook them away. It's silly, she thought, to think that simply being happy to talk to someone is enough to drive them away. That there are rules for simply speaking to another person for fear of coming off strange simply because you think to see how they are or how their day is going. The mere idea of it made her roll her eyes. And yet...

 

And yet, she continued to stare at the empty screen, void of any human contact, wondering if she could go back and change things. If she could make herself more like everyone else, or more interesting. What she'd need to change in order to bring his breath of fresh air back into her days. The air around her had grown stale, as if waiting for another story or debate. Nova sighed quietly, cupping her chin in one hand. A single, hurt tear rolled down her cheek as she remembered something quite sad.

 

He'd promised to teach her how a loan worked.


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