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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Saturday, May. 19, 2012 @ 9:30 pm
I dreamed about Matt. I dreamed he held onto me, and I pushed my face into his neck and hair. I dreamed of the feeling of his skin against my face, the warmth and softness.
At breakfast I sat beside him. I felt awkward and ashamed, and he seemed that way too, and I wondered if he dreamt the same dream, or if it all happened in an altered dimension of time.
I'm becoming a sort of pet for the boys. In an 800 man camp that contains somewhere around 10 young women, we are somewhat of a commodity. I feel eyes on me as I walk through the cafeteria, across a job site, along the boardwalks between the dorms. Always eyes down, I can't afford to make eye contact with anyone.
The other morning I was packing carrots for my lunch at the salad bar. A younger guy comes in beside to get celery. He starts asking me questions about myself and I see kindness in his brown eyes, his floppy brown hair, his soft young skin. Shorter than me? This guy has guts. I smile and blush exactly as I have been trying not to, but I can't help it.
Again this morning he was there, and he says hi and some other things, and now we are friends?
And there is the tall boy with flushed cheeks and a funny head of curly ashen hair. I like him and always glance his way and our eyes always catch and it's so awkward but funny and interesting.
And there's Corwin. Back in September we took first aid together. His hand supporting my head as he rolled me into recovery position. And now months later he has taken a shine to me. He offers me cookies in the morning. He sits beside me on the crew bus in a cocky pose with his legs ajar. He pushes my shoulder in jest when we hang out in the office. He pokes his head in the window and makes monkey faces at me. He tells me that he thinks girls in glasses are sexy.
But it always comes back to Matt. How one day he gave me Mighty Leaf tea when I told him it was my favourite. How today he brought me a rice crispie square from the caf when I pouted to have missed them in my morning grumpy fog. Him shouting my name across the parking lot and the blazing blue sky and the huge rock truck idling beside and his arm throwing the rice crispie square to me in a long arc and it landing firmly in my hand and his blazing smile and my heart exploding with happiness.
I have only four days left here? Is it wrong to say that I want to stay? I don't want to leave this feeling.