Just Two Young Kids Who Wore Hats.

Remember when we were young and I loved hats? You said I looked like Audry Hepburn. You used to wear hats to make me smile. I still smile when I think of it. We always thought we were so cool. So deep. So thoughtful...in our hats. You loved my style, but not for anything more than the fact that you thought it was a total representation of who I was. You said you loved me in hats because that is how you met me. In the red one I wore to the show. I didn't know you then. I didn't ever see you. But you saw me. You saw me and you knew I loved hats, so the next time you met me, you wore one too. Yours was straw; like you had just come back from the Hamptons. You knew I would ask you about it and so that is how we met. And we were always together. Somehow.

And we were. Always together, always something, though we never really knew what. We were just a couple of cool kids hanging out. We were thinkers and movers and kids who didn't believe in anything but were willing to believe in everything. There were those nights we would brood over the day's laments and question everything. Were we doing what we said we always would? Did we really believe in the things we believed? Was it true that love existed, and if so, did we love each other? Maybe.

I will always remember that night at that party. The one where you insisted I wear the red necklace you got me because you said it complimented the fire that burned deep inside me. That same fire you said set fire to us that night...and burned up everything. You stood in the hall and waited for me. You cornered me and asked me continuously about the strong young man I was talking to in the kitchen; the one who poured me a drink and touched my shoulder softly. The rage in your eyes that night was frightening. The jealously was off-putting and something about us broke. After you cursed at me in a way I had never heard, you walked away and left me there, broken hearted. I felt like a fool. I felt like nothing. I felt that after everything, there should have been more. But there was not.

One afternoon, many months later, I came to you. You were still mad. You sat by the window and pretended like we hadn't sat in that same room many times before...in love. As friends. Now we sit here as mortal enemies; angry about assumptions made and never really knowing what went wrong. I wore your favorite hat. I wore your favorite dress. You just looked out the window. Tears streamed down my face. I wanted to get down on my knees and beg you to let it go, but I knew you were too hurt to forget, and I knew I did nothing wrong. So we just sat there. And stared. We stared past each other. We stared out the window. The room was cold in the silence despite the nice warm spring breeze that came through the window we both so meticulously watched, maybe hoping the answers would just come in. But they did not. So we just sat there. In our pain.

I was reminded of one July afternoon where I wore my red and blue shirt that you made fun of me for, but also said it was one of your favorites because it reminded you of us. One red hot, one stone cold. You never said which of the colors were either of us, but I think we both knew, especially now, with your cold stare and bitter silence. We laid down that night after watching the sky light up with fireworks, the smell of sulfur and BBQ in the air, our lips sticky from watermelon. We talked about our dreams and our hopes and what we always thought to be true...that we would always be friends.

That was the first night we kissed. It wasn't passionate, but it seemed necessary. Two cool kids, too cool to really fall in love, but not too cool to explore one another. Your lips were soft and sticky, and sweet. Your kisses were gentle and it made my legs tingle in a way I had never experienced. When we pulled away, you looked me in the eyes and I could see a smile begin to form on those soft lips. But then you put your sunglasses back on and laid back down and stared at the ceiling. The room was silent for a moment, and then your voice broke in. "I love you". I waited a moment for my legs to stop shaking as I sat on the floor. "I love you too". And then we sat there. So long ago.

We were kids then. We didn't know better. Just two young kids who wore hats.