I Think About You Ronnie Anne

4

       It's nice outside. The sky is that perfect light shade of blue. I sit under a tree, which if I had to guess what kind of tree it was, I'd say a very tall white oak. It branches off in all directions, literally, and a green bushel of leaves swings above me. The air is not hot, but not cold either. It's an in-between that almost feels like there's no temperature at all. A man rides by on a bicycle and brakes in front of me. "Hey, Lincoln! What are you doing here?" It's Clyde, a kid from my school who has no other friends, so he tries to push a good friendship onto me. I've gotten used to being alone and I'm quite fond of that lifestyle. Clyde is just desperate for someone to talk to, and since nobody talks to me, he always targets me as his conversation buddy. "I come here when I need some peace and quiet," I say to him. "Oh no!" he exclaims. "I'm not ruining your peace, am I?!" he asks, very concerned. "I'd rather be alone to be honest, Clyde. It was nice seeing you." He smiles and gets off his bike, sitting down next to me against the tree. What the heck is he doing? Did I not just tell him I wanted to be alone? "Sometimes, Lincoln, I come out here to think. Don't tell anyone, it's kind of a secret, but my parents haven't been getting along lately."

       "My dad—well, I have two dads, so it's hard to distinguish them for you. Let's call them Dad One and Dad Two, how's that? Dad One has been getting really stressed about work so I think it's putting him on edge a lot. Dad Two has been feeling really sad lately and I think it's because he's become really insecure. I'm not sure exactly why. So, with Dad One being on edge and Dad Two being so down, it's been really tense. Dad Two will do something that gets on Dad One's nerves, so Dad One yells something at Dad Two that he takes personally... it's just a cycle of hate and sadness, you know? I'm usually at the top of the class grade-wise, but now I just can't stop worrying about my parents. I've fallen to a "C-" in most of my classes. I don't know, I guess I just worry about things too much. What do you think?" People never open up to me, so I don't know what I'm supposed to respond with. Should I say something reassuring, or something realistic? Should I give my opinion, or should I just say "That sucks, man"?

       "Do your parents fight, Lincoln? Oh—I'm sorry if that's inappropriate to ask! You don't have to answer if you're not comfortable!" The poor guy really does seem to worry a lot. "It's okay. My parents are pretty nice to each other. I don't think they have any problems that are unusual for a married couple. Maybe my mom drinks too much." Clyde looks down sadly which makes me think I said the wrong thing. "Lincoln..." he started. "Yeah?" He stood up and got back on his bike. "I don't care what people say. I don't think you're weird. In fact, I really like you. I feel like I can trust you." He kicked off and zoomed away. Wait—people think I'm weird? I guess I always had the idea that people didn't think of me very highly, but I didn't know people thought I was strange. That makes me feel bad. I feel kind of depressed now. The park remains pretty though. It's kind of funny. I feel worse, but the park stays just as bright and sunny.

       ...

       It's getting dark out. I guess I'll go home. Standing up, my whole body aches a bit from staying still and up against that rugged bark for so long. The world is very quiet. I don't have much on my mind either. Just that single word: Weird. Do people really think that? Who am I kidding? Ronnie Anne's two friends definitely thought so! I try to stop thinking about it and listen to each footstep I take as it taps on the ground. I need to talk to her again. Ronnie Anne... what do you think of me? I arrive home and find everyone else asleep. Most of the lights are out, and my feelings of loneliness have been amplified. Not only do I feel love-sick, but my family isn't even awake to greet me. My aching heart grows hungry, and thinking of Ronnie Anne isn't enough anymore. I need more, Ronnie Anne.

       I need more Ronnie Anne.