Her name is Kaitlyn Ann Meyers. She’s twenty-three years old. She has curly brown hair, green eyes, and wireframe glasses–and I know in my heart that she’s the only girl for me.
Problem is, I have no idea how I should even begin to talk to her.
I’ve heard that you can bond with someone over a common interest, but Kaitlyn has so many!
In the two years and thirteen days that I’ve known her, she’s tried painting, gardening, knitting, and volunteering at an animal shelter. Recently, she’s joined a kayaking club, and that keeps her out of the house a lot. Then there’s her social life: the girls from her sorority who came over to watch old horror movies on Halloween night, and Paul and Abigail, those loud annoying friends from work who she cooks dinner for every Sunday.
When Kaitlyn makes vegetarian curry or homemade pasta sauce, rich cooking smells fill the entire house. I’m sure the meals themselves must be just as delicious.
If only I could share one with her…
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I was describing Kaitlyn’s hobbies. She likes to read old mystery novels curled up under a blanket on the big chair in the living room. She dims the lights and puts some jazz music on–it really sets the mood. Some nights, she gets so engrossed in a book that she stays up past two A.M. reading, even though she has work the next morning.
That passion is one of the things I love about Kaitlyn
Of course, I’ve read all those books, too; I have them right here beside me, although I admit I feel guilty when I watch Kaitlyn searching the house for them with that cute, puzzled expression on her face.
I suppose we could talk about literature–
But you can’t just start a conversation with “were you surprised by what happened on page 204 of “In A Quiet Place” by Seicho Matsumoto,” can you?
It would be strange.
And I would HATE for Kaitlyn to consider me strange.
My ex, Emily, thought I was strange; I could see it in her eyes when we first met–
That was why I had to end things between us.
But enough about my ex–I need to think of something to say to Kaitlyn, and I hate the thought of introducing myself with one of those trite, bland conversation-starters:
“Hi, how are you, what’s new, how’s the family?”
Small talk just seems so pointless!
Especially considering I already know the answers to all those questions. Kaitlyn’s worried about her mother’s drinking problem and her little sister’s driving test; she was on the phone with them for hours last night, I couldn’t even tell you how long. I fell asleep with my ear to the hole I’d drilled in the ceiling while Kaitlyn was at work.
But that’s my Kaitlyn for you. So sweet. So kind.
Maybe if I just focus on my appearance, I won’t have to worry so much about making conversation. Unfortunately, I’m still wearing the same clothes I had on when I first moved into this attic, and they don’t look–or smell–worthy of a first date. My hair has grown out too, but I guess I could cut it with the shears I brought with me. They’re heavy, sharp things, the kind you use for cutting fabric.
But when I hold them in my hand, I think about how my relationship with Emily ended–
And I don’t want to dwell on the past.
The past is dead and buried…
But I’m sure that Kaitlyn and I will have a beautiful future together.
Edit: My name is Kaitlyn Meyers, and this post was made on my home computer while I was at work…it was still up on the screen when I walked through the front door…
…What the hell is going on?!
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