Chapter 1 - Michael Kent

Have you ever met that someone who God or Fate or the Universe brings into your life again and again and again and every single time, it’s like the universe pressed reset on your mind and you don’t remember a single memory of the last time you were together? Like An Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The mind isn’t perfect, and we’re more prone to forgetting than remembering, but how can you forget a single person so many times in your lifetime?

And how could I have ever dared to forget you, someone who was once so important to me?

If I could rewrite our stars, I would do it like this.

Chapter 1

“What are you doing?”

It’s Sunday and that means church. My mom and I go to Catholic church on Sundays, while my dad and brother stay home and watch The Matrix or Star Wars or whatever hit blockbuster series is showing on TBS. I’ve been brainstorming ways to get them to convert to being Christian, but none of my ideas are hitting home. Just waiting for the perfect trigger, and boom, they’ll be goners. Like Neo shooting a bullet into the shades-wearing man in black, I’m going to shoot Holy Spirit into the rest of my family.

In the meantime though, I’m having fun playing by myself at the park in front of the church. There are trees, and I love trees. It’s fun climbing them and then daring myself not to fall and break my legs. I’m not afraid of heights, unlike a certain someone.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

A boy my age is staring at me, his mouth slightly agape. He’s cute, with hair a mosaic of golden shades, as if his genes couldn’t decide which flavor to imbue his DNA with.

Indecisive genes. I like that.

He’s wearing a button-down shirt with a red bow tie and suspenders. He’s carrying a book in one hand, with the other hand stuffed down his pocket. A reader, I’ll bet.

I like him immediately.

“It looks like you’re going to fall to your death soon. Very soon.”

I like to pretend I’m a gymnast in my spare time, and right now, I’m hanging upside down on the tree branch with my legs tucked over. I’m quite athletic so I’m not worried about falling.

But now that he mentioned it, I think I probably should be more careful.

I hoist myself up, grabbing the tree with my hands and climb down. I’ve gotten into more scrapes than the average little girl, and boy, if I tell you everything that’s happened to me in all of my six years of living, you would be surprised.

But I’ll spare you the details.

“Thanks, wimp.”

He glares at me, whipping out his hand and giving me a thumbs down. The sight is kind of funny, and I giggle, infuriating him even more.

“Hey, what’s your name? I’m Sam – Samantha, really, but people call me Sam.”

“None of your business.”

“All right, none-of-your-business, have it your way. What book are you reading?”

I saunter over to him, peering at his book. He hides it behind his back.

“I said, none of your business.”

“Chill, mate.”

“Stop pretending you’re British. Are you Chinese or something?”

“Both.”

“What do you mean both? You’re definitely Asian.”

I stick my tongue out at him.

“None of your business, wimp.”

“What are you doing here? Asians aren’t Christian, they’re Asian. Go to another church, this is a white church.”
“Racist, much?”

I’m almost offended. Almost. But back in the UK, where I really am from originally despite my race being mostly Chinese, as he guessed rightly, most people were racist, albeit less rude about it. I prefer his directness actually, to the judging looks and passive aggressive jibes of the British adults I went to church with last year.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He looks apologetic, shuffling his feet and nervously fidgeting.

I smile at him, a wide grin showing off my pearly white teeth.

“No worries. I’m used to it.”

He looks taken back for a moment and then recovers quickly.

“I’m Michael Kent. But most people call me Mike, except my dad who calls me by my full name Michael John Kent when he’s mad at me for something or other. Which he is almost all of the time.”

I laugh.

“Same! My mom is nice most of the time but she gets really mad at me, because I get into too many scrapes.”

“Got any siblings?”

“One. I have an older brother, he’s five years older and he’s pretty awesome.”

“I could have guessed you’re a younger sibling. I’m the oldest, I have two little sisters and they’re just babies.”

“Cute! Babies are the cutest.”

“They’re cute until they pee all over your lap when you’re trying to feed them milk and then they spray poop in your face when you’re trying to change their diaper and when they vomit all over your shirt when you’re napping.”

I laugh. He’s funny. Morbid, sort of, but funny.

 He makes a funny face where he’s scrunching up his nose and looking embarrassed but pleased with himself. I like looking at people’s facial expressions, it helps me figure people out and what to say to them to get them on my side.

My brother says I have this thing where I have to get everyone to like me or else I automatically degenerate into a pile of self pity and self-loathing. He’s right, of course, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing.

It’s useful being liked.

And I have a strong suspicion that Michael John Kent likes me.

Sort of.

My mom shows up at the door of the church and starts fussing at me like usual.
“Samantha, come in already, you’re late. And fix your dress.”
“Ok, Mama!”

I run to my mom and then turn around at the last minute and wave at Mike.

“Bye Mike! Nice to meet you!”

Then I turn to my mom and hold her hand and we go into the church.

Maybe had I waited for Mike to reply or have seen his facial expression, I would have noticed that he was ticked off. Ticked off that I left all of a sudden, ticked off that our conversation ended so soon, and ticked off that he didn’t get a chance to show me his book. Which he was regretting not having done sooner.

Regrets. I’ve had many regrets with him, things I wish I did or wish I didn’t do, things I wish I said, things I wish I didn’t say. But over the course of our relationship, I came to realize that despite our mistakes and our regrets, we always come back together and forgive each other.

And that moment, on that rainy day when I was waiting for him and crying because I missed him and he wasn’t showing up but then he finally showed up with an umbrella, and he held me in his arms as we both cried for reasons I don’t remember.

I realized that despite our regrets and mistakes and hurts,

We were going to last for all of eternity.