A Love Lost Found

If there is one thing I hate- it's lines. Long, unending lines that hold you back from something you have dreamed about experiencing since you were 7. I'm at All-State... I'm one of the best sopranos in NY. It couldn't get any cooler then that.

After what seemed like an eternity, I got my room number, my keys, my meal cards, my, ugh, fluorescent green nametag that must hang around my neck at ALL times. It glared "SAMANTHA" in huge, black, letters, with a smaller "Schwartz" underneath. Yummy- now the nerdy bassoon players wouldn't even have to ask me my name before hitting on me. I lugged my bag towards my room, and collapsed on my bed. I was exhausted- I had woken up at four in the morning to get to the bus by five. Not my favorite way to spend a morning.

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On the back of the line that Sam just left, a boy was waiting. He had gotten there late- his bus had broken down. The line didn't seem to be moving, so he plopped down his suitcase on the floor and collapsed upon it. Among a crowd of others, a brunette walked past him, and as she passed, Steven was hit with an odd feeling of deja-vu. If he hadn't seen that certain girls face just then he knew he would have fallen asleep, But something about her kept him up, something haunted him about that face, and he could not remember what. He knew he was probably imagining things, it was probably only the girls unconventional beauty which excited him. She had brown, almost chocolate colored hair, curled in prefect little banana curls that framed her round face in a way that made his breath catch. Her green eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief, and, though he never really was a freckles dude, the scattered freckles on her cheekbones and nose just made her even more beautiful to his eyes. Her lips though, he thought, were frankly, amazing. They looked so soft, so kissable… he couldn't help his mind racing along the lines of what glory it would be to sink his lips on hers. Stop it, perv. He shook his head to clear that thought from his head- waiting on this line with a hard-on would make it even less enjoyable then it already was.

It was only when he caught a glimpse of her nametag by the water fountain before rehearsal did he begin to suspect. He had only seen the name "SAMANTHA" on it, not for lack of trying. He had tried, in vain, to read her last name, but before he could do so she quickly ran off into the rehearsal room. For a moment, Steven cursed himself that he was a bass, and not a tenor, so he could have been seated closer to his mystery girl.

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For Sam though, there was no mystery. At the water fountain, she had almost choked on her water in shock to see a much, much older version of Stevie stepping into line. It seemed she was right when she saw his name in the newspaper… his nametag, the same shade of fluorescent green as she, said "STEVEN Cohen." No matter how much time had passed, he was still Stevie, she could still see her friend in him. But, damn, time did the kid justice! No longer a scrawny little shrimp, Stevie was taller then most kids his age, instead of shorter, as he used to be. He'd put on a lot of muscle, and finally grew into his limbs, it seemed. Samantha was shocked- he grew out his hair! His previously mamas-boy bowl-cut was now in a ponytail at the back of his head, the ebony hair that used to make him look deathly pale were now striking, since he finally discovered the sun. His eyes were the same odd shade of amber that they were back then, so light that they almost seemed golden. She so wanted to say hello, to wave her hands in front of his face, beg him to recognize her, but when she noticed him looking at her quizzically, she couldn't do it. Samantha became shy, and scrambled towards her seat.

The conductor seemed to be running late, and everyone was taking the time to get to know the people next to them. Sam wasn't interested in all that- she only had eyes for one boy, across the room in the bass section. Samantha, herself, was in the front row of the Sopranos, so unlike Stevie, who was seated on top. They were set up in odd circle, each row higher then the previous one, sort of like a stadium. She finally realized that he, too, was staring at a memory from the past, whether he knew it or not. She watched as his eyes dropped from a quizzical contemplation of her face to her nametag. Upon the sight of her name, she guessed, his eyes suddenly grew huge. His face suddenly was void of all color, and his jaw seemed as if it was in danger of falling off. Stevie knew Sam was watching him, it seemed, because he mouthed at her an astonished 'You?!" All Sammy could do, her heart pounding, is nod her head. They both stood up abruptly, causing a few stares, and tore towards each other, collapsing into a hug that encompassed seven years of regret, of apologies, of a longing for the others presence that was long stored in the back of their minds, put there when each of them gave up that they would ever see the other again.

As fate would have it, the conductor walked in at that very moment, apologizing for his lateness, and telling the chorus to take out "O Magnum Mysterium". The newly reunited friends both sighed audibly, and with regret broke the embrace, and went back to their seats, but not before Steven whispered into her ear- "Later. I promise".

In her seat, Sam sat, amazed at the exchange that just took place. They had spoken no words, yet said so much. Steven, though, was angry. Not at Samantha, not in the least, but at himself. For one so good with words, Steven just couldn't manage to say what he wanted to in those spare seconds that had passed between them. Mainly, 'I missed you', but it was so much more then that. There had been a hole in his heart without her near, and finally, when he fell into her arms, that hole began to heal. That, and the fact that while he stared into her eyes, he realized that he would never be able to leave her again.