Portrait of Natasha

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Quick-minded-glib-tongued-sharp- as a broken saucer- double lived- many layered-

I saw her last on an evening bus, where she lauded my choices and drew me in, and threw in a comment at my ripped purple bag. (I still have it). Smiling with LOUD affection, she praised my choices sky high- and then she got off, with a wave and a flash, and that’s the last I saw of her.,

And the time before that last, she was asking if I had an essential, and mistook me for my sister- she always did that- or maybe it was just easier yelling my sisters name knowing I’d look up too..

I saw her on stage in glittering glory, with her beauty being applauded as she tried to strut in her 4-inch heels and claim that her palms were sweaty.

I saw her in her pajamas, standing with her siblings and her dad and her mom at a holiday weekend (where all our families went) and I ignored her grandly as I had the most awesome wicked fun on the beach with friends- we went out at ten and sat in the starlight on the wall between the hotel and the black 5-waved ocean- as we laughed over cards and joked over coke- pretending it was alcohol- and got ourselves drunk silly on laughter- I remember Natasha sitting with some stuffy old colleagues and trying to small chat them up, next to the pool, in long black and a coloured wraparound-

I remember my mom saying she was cute and pretty.

I remember her in the library, sitting with her boyfriend; he was curly haired, deep voiced- somehow more crazy then all the rest (I wonder if they are still together), who seemed to like a lot of other girls. Looking over her shoulder, or past her and staring-maybe I was wrong- I never talked to him- I think he liked at least half a dozen-

But he liked Natasha best.

Natasha was such a pretty person, & beautiful inside and out & it was really sad that her boyfriend wasn’t always perfectly faithful. (Boyfriends! Agh! Who bothers?) But I hope she never found out. Back then, she was wild, crazy & free, and innocent & kind of sweet. She always was the type of person who’d play one false- so I thought- cuz she wouldn’t be able to help it- so, I’d play her false too.

Natasha- she gave that feeling of a perpetually hot windy afternoon, and accelerated, exuberant excitement, as one runs with a few really close friends, through the sticky park, going to do something a little crazy & a little fun, and just awesome cuz you are doing it with your friends & you know whatever you do will be a little legendary- and handed down from mouth to mouth-

and she gave that feeling of dusty subcontinent roads- and having that laughing trick with ones words that one only has when one really has people in one’s life- hey she was a lil’ dangerous and lil’ sweet- if she knew about this, she’d probably mud sling me with a red-blue-revenge…

That was Natasha, and we couldn’t help liking her and admiring her, no matter what she did or was. Maybe  she wasn’t someone we’d hangout with, but we’d love her all the same. To hell with nice…

Hyper-energetic- it always felt like she’d be doing something- yet warm and affectionate- zinging on a whole different level-that was probably the reason for most things- like most admired popular people, we probably detested her a bit too. Maybe she deserved it, maybe she didn’t/she was that lightning streak across the sky, with no storm clouds/ the impossible zigzag of electricity across the sky that burned the sun..

*Natasha is not her real name. There are bits of fiction in this. 🙂

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About theshadowsofthenight

An amateur writer and amateur artist :)
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