MIRIAM.
@garrettshepherds
As she sighed, the reflection moved with her. It matched the unusual frown that she found herself wearing.
Miriam had been staring in the mirror for the past ten minutes, unsatisfied with how she looked. Her face was adorned in makeup. Pink eyeshadow to match the pink flowers doting her white top. Tight jeans to show off her best features. White platform sneakers that would be easy to take off at a moment’s notice. Her hair pulled up into a high ponytail. She couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong with how she looked, but it didn’t seem perfect in the way she wanted. Unaware, she was channeling her nerves about the upcoming date towards her outfit. With another sigh, she grabbed her purse and her jacket, still unsatisfied, but left her room to meet Garrett anyway.
It was surreal – the two of them hanging out in a planned setting. It was what she was thinking about, leaning back in the chair at the bowling alley as she watched him take his turn. She was certainly enjoying the view. It had been years and years since she’d been bowling, but she didn’t want to turn him down, having been so caught up in him actually asking her on a date.
She tapped her feet, clad in bowling shoes, on the floor, pretending she was performing a mini tap dance. But she stood up when he came back over. She breezed past him, giving him only a small smile in acknowledgment. Grabbing a red and blue tie-dyed bowling ball, she stepped up to the mouth of the lane, eyeing the gutters with a sense of fear. Miriam held the bowling ball with two hands, and swinging it almost between her legs, she let it go and watched it roll before hitting two pins on the side. Her second try didn’t fare much better.
Sullenly, she walked back to Garrett and stood close to him with her arms crossed over her chest and her lower lip jutting out. “It’s not fun when you’re good and I’m not. Is that why we’re here? For you to show off your bowling skills and impress me?”
A first date. He’d wanted to put his best foot forward. He’d showered, he’d put on his best cologne, shaved his nearly unkempt beard down to a stubble, and had spent an hour or so getting ready— a century, in his case. He was a man without tender thought in his appearance, and though he took care of himself more than a lot did, sure, his detail was not always finely tuned. He used two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, for instance, something apparently scornful, or at least scornful enough to elicit a scoff from his sister across the dining room table. His thoughts were more elaborate, and in the midst of putting on his clothes he began to wonder what she exactly liked about him. Did she like the cologne that he wore? Did she like some facial hair or none at all? Did she care that he used two-in-one shampoo? He hadn’t been on a date in a while, something he wasn’t exactly transparent with. No, he hadn’t been on a date, but he wasn’t necessarily worried either. It would just be like every other time they’d spent together, except now it was simply ornate. Now, at least, there resolved some clarity.
She’d looked beautiful, he’d told her this, after she’d descended down the stairs, and she looked beautiful now. His eyes graced her figure again, a near guilty amount, but he could not help himself. She was looking like an angel, dressed in white, hugged snuggly by jeans, hair pulled back, and he wondered if she knew how much he’d liked a ponytail on women. He couldn’t recall ever mentioning it, but he’d certainly make it aware by the end of the night. ‘Baby’. Was she the type that liked to be called that? He was doing decently with his bowling, clearly not a professional by any means, but naturally athletic enough to perhaps deceive another into thinking he was something of a fluent amateur. Eight pins. He’d managed knocking down eight on his first roll, and then another on his second, his strong, sculpted arms steady, his light eyes, narrowed with focused. For a time after, he’d sat down, two over from her, a game of their own as they took turns with patient looks and smart caper, and eventually he’d begun taking his seat directly beside her own. This time he watched her stand up before he could even make his way past the ball dispenser, proud almost, a specific look on her face that he hadn’t seen before, but it was one he already liked. A smirk, he noticed. So, she was competitive. He instantly he returned the sliver of a gesture, although while she remained nonchalant, his eyes, once again dressed her with their attention. Up, down, up— he brushed past her with minor friction, “Alright then,” He pivoted, watching her walk away, and she looked just as good walking from as she did to, “Show me what you got.”
He sat, an arm lifting to the chair next to him, resting atop the back, a small smile reaching his lips. He was now in a position that granted him eye-level to her waist. His gaze moved down to her hands, watching her as she, again, held the ball with the both of them— not one, but two, and basically granny-rolled it down the lane. His jaw had cocked to the side, his hand had lifted to his mouth and his grin had found his bright eyes. He didn’t want to laugh. He didn’t. He couldn’t. But a muted chuckle left him, helpless, and he tried to clean himself up as she made her way over to him, standing close. Now he was looking up at her. Garrett settled into his chair, back pressed to the curved plastic, slumped nearly as he looked up at her with a wide smile. Was she pouting? This felt like a break in their rhythm, a moment for him to slow it down; to put the bowling on the back burner and to pull them to the front. A brow cocked, and his head tilted to the side, amused, the tease he was about to say already emitting out of him, oozing, “Well... Are you impressed?” He extended a hand to her folded arms, deciding to stand, shrinking their proximity to mere inches. Here, he stooped over her, his jaw hover near the top of her head until he looked down, “You’re not bad, Mir, you’re knockin’ the pins down. That’s bowling.” He spoke more hopefully, granting some optimism as he gave her arm a slight shake, teasing, as he lightly pulled them undone from across her chest. His smile was boyish, and then it became dutiful, “–I can try to help you, or show you how I do it, or something,” He offered, looking past her briefly, “We could take a break, if you want. I am kinda hungry.”











