Post by Andrea on Jun 5, 2006 0:50:53 GMT -5
Chronicles of Boyfriend Numero One
[/b]There is an image burned in my mind; a boy, a young man now, holds his mother close while she cries. An oak leaf green graduation cap stands tall on his head, the tassel as white as still wet paint hangs on the right side of his face. Nothing but a shared melancholy and a slow sadness mark his features; no sorrow however. Comfort pulsates from him as his left hand cradles the shorter woman's head and a kiss is innocently dropped onto her forehead. I love this man.
Now I am shocked. I love him? Really?-Truly, I do. We had only ever been friends before, and oftentimes my girlfriends had teased me about our friendship; had they been right? Apparently they had, for now the feeling was unmistakable. I'm in love with him. There are no fireworks or butterflies involved in this love; for this love is quiet, content, it simply is.
I watched him in the gym. Waiting for the crowds of people congratulating us to wane. Wondering when my own mother would leave so that I can speak to him. "Mom, find Adam and I'll meet you at the car," I said, hoping she wasn't offended. I had to talk to him.
"No more pictures?" She asked and again I was sad that I was being so short with her.
"No, I think we got them all," I said. It's not like I have a lot of friends, no one wants to take pictures with me anyways. I've had to ask them, not the other way around. I thought.
"What are you going to do?" She asked. She's such a mom; always having to ask where her children are.
"I just have to say goodbye. I'll meet you there soon."
"Okay." She responded as she moved away. I watched her red paisley shirt disappear into the crowd, searching for the large, afro haired, brother that I don't always claim.
Slowly I made my way to him, trying not to fall off of my three in shoes. I'd been the only girl in the entire class to wear heels that tall. It had seemed only natural to wear heels that size, the fact that I was the only one astounded me.
He was talking to our old schoolmate and his girlfriend, who was our current schoolmate. Patiently I waited (actually, in my brain I was banishing them to Siberia, but I looked calm). They left and he turned, smiling that big, slightly mischievous but also incredibly innocent smile of his.
"Hey," he said as he wrapped his arms around me.
"Hey… You know me. You know I don't like to wonder about 'what ifs'." He was nodding and looking concerned. My dislike of 'what ifs' had caused a few bouts of chaos in out lives. "So I'm just going to say this. I'm not expecting anything. I like you… And I'm going to go now." I tried to move away but he was talking and my body froze.
"Wow…" He ran a hand through chocolate brown hair. "I'm not quite sure what to say to that," I was moving away again, the words 'I wasn't expecting anything' jumping to the tip of my tongue. "You're a really good friend-"
My hand came up to rest in front of his mouth. "That’s okay, I'm good." Tears that had been fought back all night came to rest on my bottom eyelids. I took a step back and he moved forwards.
"Andrea, listen to what I'm saying! You're a good friend," His hands held onto my elbows and I prayed to whatever god was listening that he would let me go so that I could leave. My ankles trembled and I wondered at the emotions he evoked now that I had realized what they were. "You're a good friend and that’s why I'd like to try something with you." He finished with a triumphant smile. My body went into pause and I stared at him.
"Really?" The tears had retreated again and I was left with confused delight.
"Yeah," he said and I let my hands rest on his biceps. "God, it took you long enough." He laughed and I hit him lightly.
"You could have said something." I protested.
He shrugged, "Yeah, I supposed I could have. But, listen, I've got to meet people-"
"Yeah, I have to go too."
"Are you going to Ashley's?" He asked as we moved separate directions.
"Yeah," I said, knowing that I was only going because I now knew he was.
"Okay, I'll see you there."
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I got to Ashley's exactly at eleven. It was almost eleven forty five before he got there. I was sitting in a wire ivy green lawn chair talking with a few people I knew only on a 'say hi in the hallway' way. He sat on the other side of the porch; a large part of me frowned while the sensible side rolled its eyes. What did you expect? Did you think that he was going to come over, wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your cheek? Well, no, but that’s what I wanted. Get over it.
We shared the occasional awkward glance every few minutes while my brain (which was in hyper drive) wondered if he regretted what he'd said. Did I regret it? I didn't know… if he was going to be so awkward about it maybe I did.
It wasn't until one fifteen (when everyone else was leaving) that he asked if I wanted to walk down to the bonfire that we spoke. Immediately I said sure, not even bothering to say goodbye to those that were leaving.
As we walked he pulled out his Nokia pay-as-you-go phone, opened the contacts list and browsed. "There's no one interesting on here. Who should I call?"
"Ahh… is Mr. Simmons in there?" Simmons was out bible teacher, a man who looked like Screech from Saved by the Bell and taught our world religions class. He was the gayest straight man I'd ever met. He didn't walk; he pranced, which caused his sprinters butt to wag obscenely. He giggled, not laughed, and oftentimes made double entendres without realizing it.
"No, actually, Joel do you got Simmons number?"
"Yeah, but he's probably having s*x right now man. It's late."
We both winced at that mental image and went back to out comfortable but uncomfortable silence.
"All these people are boring."
"So basically your friends suck?" I asked with a smile as we watched the rest of the class attempt to smoke gas station cigars.
"Yeah."
"Wouldn't that imply that you suck?"
"Well… nice one." He grinned at me. I shrugged. I have a talent for sarcasm.
Another boy joined us and after ten minutes of boredom I excused myself. As I walked up the hill to my car Zack called to me, "I'll see you at my open house tomorrow right?" He asked nervously.
"Yeah," I called back.
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I stayed at Heidi's piano recital as long as I could. Zach's open house had started at six. Heidi's recital started at six thirty, which was why I went, and why I stayed afterwards, listening to Mrs. Morgan talk to Jenny Brocker about becoming next years valedictorian. The punch tasted of overly ripe pineapple but the nail sized, pillow-like mints were good (as always). After exactly twelve minutes of valedictorian talk I excused myself.
It was eight 0 one. I walked carefully through the parking lot, pretending that I didn't know how to walk in high heels well (I've been doing it since I went through my beauty pageant phase at eleven); the real reason I walked slowly was to delay the inevitable. I had visions of his parents not liking me, I had visions of everyone knowing and my walking in completely unsuspecting. But no, no! That would have been much too easy.
The entire world had come (in person) to wish him congratulations. I parked two blocks away, watching the rock concert crowd of people roam around. It was Woodstock. People played volleyball, children ran around with soggy diapers wagging off their butts like tails, puberty had not been kind to a group of greasy, sweating boys. The sun beat on the pavement like the ocean beats against shore. Wave after wave of heat enveloped my wedge clad feet, the black ribbons scratched my ankles.
He was standing by a shrine of himself (self absorbed much?), police lights adorned the top like a blinking crown and the sun seemed to shine directly on me. Again I had visions; visions of myself lit up like a brunette angel and his heart pounding like a newborn puppy's.
I'll probably never know if I was lit up like an angel or if his heart beat faster. The second I stepped into the shade of the garage awkwardness ensued. I couldn't stop clasping and unclasping my hands, or I would run them up and down my arms like I was cold (it was ninety three degrees). He, seemingly, forgot how to eat and successfully dropped taco (with red rice in it) out of his mouth and onto the tar; at which point he looked confused and said "Apparently, I've forgotten how to eat," and I response "Apparently." All this occurred while my hands where nervously performing a new fangled dance which has never before been seen on any planet in any universe.
For several minutes the length of snail years we stood, two and half feet apart, pretending to look at the self absorbed shrine he stood next to. There is only one picture I remember; he was standing in the center of what I assume was their living room, clutching a paper the length and width of his legs, it's lime green with neon orange edges and he's smiling that toothy, almost painfully big smile that children smile.
Someone came to rescue us after that, and after their distraction came people I actually knew. For a while I stood behind them as the looked at the triangular shrine and then I told Zack I had to follow them to the next grad party even though I had mapquest directions in my car.
The disastrous grad party was fifty one hours ago, and I haven't heard from him since. Isn't the rule seventy two hours? -- That’s only twenty one hours until I can call, right?
All criticism is welcome, only constructive criticism will be utelized.
