• Two summers ago I met a girl at a church barbecue. She didn’t go to church, but her friend did. I went to church, but not that church. Her friend was my friend too. After the barbecue we walked to two trees that were bent over into each other, forming a sort of archway. She asked me if I knew what a portal was. Like the science fiction kind? Yes, sort of, but for real.

    She asked me if my car had any gas in it. I checked, and it did. It does. I called my parents and told them I’d be going to Steak and Shake and would be back later than I’d originally thought. I was back later than I originally thought, but we didn’t go to Steak and Shake. Turn here. Where are we going? You’ll see; don’t you trust me? I’ve only just met you. That’s true; I could be some sort of murderer for all you know.

    I’m not, though; pull in here. This is someone’s house. No it’s not; drive around back. I parked the car behind a rather ominous looking tool shed and followed her to the unlocked front door, which creaked as she pulled it open. Inside it was dark. There was no electricity or running water. What is this place? It’s abandoned. Oh. There were water stains on one of the bedroom walls that came from the bathroom above it. Creepy, isn’t it? It’s like that movie. Yeah.

    Next, we headed upstairs. The stairway was covered in dog s**t. Watch your step. The second floor was just as dark and just as creepy as the first. I want to show you something. Wait, so you’ve been here before? Yeah, loads of times. Oh. On the windowsill was an old beer bottle filled with plastic flowers. I like to come here and take photographs. So you’re a photographer. Sort of, but I’m just not a very good one. The flowers in the bottle, the aged and broken windowsill, the darkening sky, and her photographs too all looked incredible.

    What’s this written on the wall? It’s a wish I made the first time I came here. Did it come true? Um, you write something! Does it have to be a wish? No.

    I’m really glad to have met you.

    We bought glow-in-the-dark letters and glow-in-the-dark stars. We put them on the underside of the roof of the gazebo at the state park. She spelled out, “YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL,” and I arranged the stars. We had a picnic there, and it rained, and we walked through the mud back to my car. We sat inside and listened to a mix tape she’d made of summertime folk music. I told her about a dream I had the night before. A bear attacked us in the park, and I fought it off with my bare hands. She fell asleep listening to the folk music. The music stopped, even though I’d wished it wouldn’t. The rain didn’t stop, even though I’d wished it would.

    When she woke up we took pictures of each other. Hers, in both senses of the word, turned out better than mine. We went back to her house and listened to more music. Wait, wait; listen to this one. “I’ll Be Yr Bird” by M. Ward is my favorite song. No, wait, this one. “Cody” by Mogwai is my favorite song.

    When it was dark enough we went to the playground near her house and lit sparklers. Try and get a picture of me spinning this around in a big circle. I tried. You’re no good at this. So, I spun the sparkler around instead while she took the picture. We laid on our backs on the grass and stared up at the stars.

    When it got too cold, we went back to her house, laid on the floor, and stared up at her ceiling, which now obscured our view of the stars. I kissed her. You know, I feel safe right now; like, if there really was a bear here, I think it’d be okay. Well, let’s hope for both our sakes that there isn’t, because I think dream me is a little stronger than real me. It probably wasn’t the best time for jokes, but I was shy. And I was nervous. But she did laugh.

    -

    We played life-size Candyland in my basement. It belonged to my niece. She beat me. My dad brought us snacks, and we watched a movie. I drove her home, and we listened to more folk music with the windows rolled down and the cool night air blowing through the car. “Kathleen” by Josh Ritter is my favorite song. I walked her to her door, and she hugged me.

    We went to eat at little diners, we shopped at thrift stores, we listened to good music, we went to good concerts, she took lots of pictures, I tried to take lots of pictures, we went to an old dam covered in graffiti, we drove down a haunted road, we stayed up late, we slept in late, we drank orange soda: all because of her.

    At the county fair we saw a sperm bank that was a coin bank shaped like a sperm. It had eyes, and we wanted it, but it cost too many tickets. She won a pink, blow-up dolphin for me and we rode the Tilt-a-Whirl until we both felt sick, or at least until I did.

    It didn’t last. She was the one who got away, but not before first leaving me with one, final snapshot.

    On the count of three, we’ll both run through the portal at the same time, and when we get to the other side we’ll be in a sort of alternate dimension where something will be different. It could be something small, like the color of your shoes, or it could be your entire life. Are you ready? One! Two!

    Three.