Chapter Three: Nichole

It is now spring time. The Jasmine is starting to bloom. People are starting to come out of hiding now that the cold days are gone. Changes of tone are no longer a boisterous yell
but rather a calming hush.
Even I had settled myself. I have become calm and accepted the belief that this is the way it has always been and the way things will always be. I will grow up and I will move away, but still nothing will change. I will always be alone.
The changing of a season is such a miraculous thing though; it is something that most of us take for granted. Spring is the rebirth of the earth. In all of us there is a rebirth, a rebirth of the mind and the soul. This cycle never stops just like the cycles of the earth. Change is never ending and even the bad changes are important.
I have heard old men talk about their knees hurting just before a big storm. I was about to have a storm myself, I could feel it in the pit of my gut.
That spring many things happened to me, not all of them good. I had chosen to understand the fact that we all need another human being to connect with. I didn’t expect anything, really. I trust that we all come into our own self at a different rate. I was not quite there but I was almost there, but time was running out for me. I had become depressed and angry.
I had too many nights and weekends sitting alone by myself. I would lock myself away; I had even removed myself from my parents. They were still at peace with one another and I could not ruin that time for them. But, I needed a change. I wanted to share my pain with someone else.
But, what is a friendship really? How does a friendship begin? I wonder if we choose the ones that we become friends with or was it all planned before. Does a higher power decide who we are going to admire and respect? I will try not to get into my theory of preordained destiny. There are too many people out there that would argue this thought with me. I am only saying that a plan makes sense, otherwise we are just running around with no true purpose. This idea makes me wonder what the fuck is it all for then if we are not put on this earth to learn from other people, people that will impact our life and put us on the right path?
I was sitting during recess like many other days I watched and listened but never joined the other children. I was in one of my books pretending that I didn’t notice or care. It is better to hide your true self; no one can destroy or belittle you that way.
“Hi.” I looked up and to my surprise someone had sat down beside me. I closed my book and turned to her. She was sitting with her legs crossed and throwing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Hello.” At first I was not sure if she was talking to me and I had to peer around to make sure. I could see her eyes staring right at me. They were piercing blue; I had never seen eyes as blue as hers. “Do you want to talk”, she asked me. “Yeah, hi, I’m Renee.” I dropped my hand in front of her. Was this the right thing to do? This was not a business meeting nor was it a formal environment. Being that I had never been close to someone my own age, I wasn’t sure how to introduce myself. She grabbed my hand; she held it for a few seconds and then let it go. She shifted her legs and moved closer to me. I moved away a bit and placed my hands in my lap. She was now almost yelling to be overheard due to the people around us. “Hey, Renee, I’m Nichole, are you new?” I did not hesitate I was always new. “Yes, I transferred here right after the first six weeks. Are you new?” “No. I lived here before and then my family and I moved to Amarillo for a year and now we’re back home.” “Oh” I said. The bell rang and she was off. As I stood to get in line with the other children she turned back to me to wave and smile. I smiled back and nodded my head in her direction.
Nichole and I had nothing in common. Her parents were educated, they lived in a nice home, and she was loved and pampered. She had the childhood that most would dream about. You know the kind. She has a pool table, air hockey table, a swimming pool, all in her house. She could never want or need for anything. Her clothing came from the best stores not from Wal Mart like mine were. I did not fit in and she knew that. I thought that maybe she pitied me. Maybe I was a cruel experiment to her. Did she have some game in mind, or a trick to be played on me? At this point I wasn’t sure if I could trust her. Just maybe we did have something in common though. We were the kids that no one else would speak to.
Nichole says that when she left for that year and lived in Amarillo she wanted nothing more than to be back in Hurst. After all she was born and raised in Hurst. When she returned to the same house and the same school that next year things changed, no one would even acknowledge that she was back.
It had to be devastating for her. I mean, I never had friends, so it was never much of a problem for me to be an outcast. For Nichole she was used to being center of attention and having people around her and then it stopped. She had had relationships with these kids; it had to be hard to sit back and watch them, and know that you are deliberately being ignored not just overlooked like I was.
Every day we sat together at recess, we would have sat at lunch together as well but we were not allowed. The individual 6th grade classes had to sit together and she was not in the same classroom as I was. We became inseparable; we spent a lot of time together outside of school. Nichole was my first real friend. I told her everything. She would listen to me and for the first time someone else agreed that my life was more than fucked up. She lived only a five minute walk from my house and we would meet everyday. Most evenings after school, I would change into shorts and a T shirt and I would walk to her house, we would play basketball or we would walk down by the creek and throw rocks.
Nichole knew that I had a crush on a guy in my class and Anthony lived across the street from Nichole, but we never saw him or his little brother outside when we were playing. There was one time that Anthony walked out his front door and started to walk across the street to say something to Nichole and I but his mother opened the door and started screaming, in her screeching parrot British accent, “Anthony, Anthony, get away from them girls.” He turned red and walked away. I felt bad for him; his mother was almost as bad as my dad. I never understood why his mother had an issue with us. I am guessing now, but I would have to say that it had something to do with her hating American girls. That was alright, I felt like I had been born on the wrong continent anyway. I never cared much for anything American, I preferred The Cure to Elvis, Fish to hamburgers, poetry to comic books and theater to television. I would have done anything to know him, to really know him, to embrace his culture and his friendship. Unfortunately this is not that kind of story. I never saw him again after our 6th grade year.
Mom and dad for the first time had money to go out to eat and to buy clothing and nice things for themselves. They were happy and I was happy for them. My mother does not seem to understand but I hated to see her dressed in rags and I have decent clothes, it really did not seem fair. I wanted my parents to take pride in their life it made me feel better about myself. I never cared much about appearance, personally. I was starting to notice things though. I would watch what the other girls were wearing. I so much wanted to be like the pretty girls. I had always thought that that was reserved only for Katarina. Even if I could I would never compete with my sister. I was not ugly I just looked homely. I had great hygiene that was not the problem. Being Czech means that you are going to have EYEBROWS. Not just any kind of eyebrows but the kind that try to take over your face. I would sit after school staring in the mirror ripping hairs out above my eyes. It was bloody painful, but when I was done you could see my eyes. I liked the way I looked. I had big blue eyes, long eyelashes, small nose, and a small mouth. I still carried some weight in my face but I was steadily losing weight everyday from the long walks that I would take with Nichole. My teeth are brilliantly white and straight. It was the hair that was the problem. My hair was very dark; it also looked as if I had fried it from all of the washing and blow-drying. My skin is ivory white and with the dark black hair I was starting to look mismatched. It was my father’s dark hair that I had, he has a dark complexion coming from a Czech Jewish background, but I carried my mother’s translucent white skin which looks great on her with her light red hair. But I looked mismatched with my bright white skin and dark black hair. One day I will have to change the color to match who I am.
So, as the year progressed so did my appearance. I started dressing differently; I liked to experiment with colors and fabrics. I never really wanted to look like everyone else; I wanted to take what everyone else had and expand on it. In a way you could say I was doing my best to find out who I was separate from Nichole and my family. Nichole always laughed at my clothing. She called me a ‘freak”, which at that time to me was a term of endearment. To be a “freak” was to be creative, but a little dark at times. I would spend an hour on my hair every morning I could never quite get it to do anything other than hang down in my face, long, dark and straight.
As the spring passed and the summer drew closer, I started to anticipate Junior High School. Nichole and I sit in my room after school. We were playing with hair, clothes and make up; like other girls our ages we really had no idea what we were doing.
“Hey, do you think we will have a boyfriend next year”, I asked Nichole. “Maybe”, Nichole said. “I would like to meet a ninth grader next year.” “Why”, asked Nichole? She dropped her mascara brush on my floor and began to clean up the black splotchy goo. “I don’t know”, I said “Hmm”, she said. The phone rang and I reached over Nichole to grab it. It was Nichole’s mother and she asked Nichole to come home, it was dinner time. “I got to go”, she said. “I will see you later then?” I got up behind her and opened my bedroom door. She started to walk down my stairs and she slipped out the side door and out the gate. I started to set the dinner table for mother.
Mom and dad were always big on dinner time. Mother cooks great southern meals which usually come with a lot of fried food. My stomach hurt a lot lately and so I started to pick at my food. This always made my father angry considering that there was never enough food when he was a kid. He did not mind repeating this statement to me every evening at dinner. I went up stairs after dinner and mother came up to see me a few hours later.
“I have something that I need to talk to you about.” Mother walked through my bedroom door and sat down on my bed. “What is it?” I stopped writing in my journal and turned off the radio to listen to her. “I’m not sure how to tell you.”
Mother then stood to walk towards the door. She looked back at me and shifted her weight all to one side. She looked puzzled, troubled even. “What is it?” Mother began to speak, hesitant, like she was forcing the words out of her mouth. I was afraid. I was afraid of what she was about to tell me and yet I had no idea what it was.
“Your grandmother called me today. Your Aunt Sandra is ill. She has cancer, Renee. We need to prepare ourselves for whatever happens.” What was she saying, we need to prepare ourselves? So, we need to prepare ourselves for whatever happens? What she wants to say is that Aunt Sandra is dying. Just say it, just say it. Tell me the truth even if I cry. Don’t be soft around the edges and give me false hope. “She’ll be okay Right?” “No, honey, her cancer is advanced and it’s bone cancer. The cancer has spread all over her body. She’s not going to make it, Renee.” With that being said she walked out of my room and left me sitting on my bed to try and understand what was just said.
My Aunt Sandra was very special to me. Not to make anyone jealous but she was my favorite out of all of my father’s siblings. She was kind, open and understanding. She had my thoughts figured out before I even spoke them aloud. With everything that had been going on I had not been to see her in almost a year.
You would think my mother would hold me, maybe a pat on the shoulder to show some fucking compassion or empathy. Did my mother even care? This is an awful thing to think, I know she cared, mother loved her as much as I did but maybe what it was is that she had not realized what this meant. This meant that soon Aunt Sandra would leave this world, she would be no more. Than I began to think about my mothers own mortality and my mortality, we are not forever. We will all have to leave. When we are born we are born not alone but surrounded by the ones that will love us. When we die we will die alone, there will be no one to hold us or to comfort our sobs on the other side. But, I could be wrong about this I know many theologian’s who would curse my name for that statement.
What wakes me up in the middle of the night is that we do not know what will happen to us when we go. We have a basic understanding of what it means to be born, to exist. It is the dying part that paralyzes me. Will I go on to be in another life, never knowing or seeing the ones that I have loved in this life, reincarnation? Will I burn in purgatory for all the wrong that I have ever done? Will I go on to be in the good graces with our deity? This is what frightens me more than all of the other ones put together, will I no longer be anything? Is it possible that when we die there is nothing else, only darkness and nothingness? To no longer be anything, I can’t even begin to explain how much this frightens me.
The light in my room began to flicker I turned to look at the sun just now starting to set. I closed the blinds, turned off the light and closed my door. I curled up on my bed and fought back the tears now starting to surface. I fell asleep and when I awoke for school that morning my mother was not in her cheerful mood. She must had been up all night I imagine on the phone with family members I suppose or maybe up with my father. This would be my dad’s second sibling that would pass.
“You’re not going to school today.” My mother wiped her face and made a sniffling sound with her nose. “What do you want me to do?” “We’re going to go see your Aunt Sandra. Go get ready.” I walked back to my room and got dressed, brushed my teeth, and we were out the door before I could ask anymore questions. It was a long, silent drive to Dallas that morning. I was afraid to ask questions, I did not want to upset them more than they already were.
How do you know when it will be the last time that you will ever see someone? I knew though when I saw her. Aunt Sandra lay in a hospital bed in the middle of her living room. It no longer looked like my aunt’s house. It was now filled with a nurse and other people I had never seen before. I could make out a few faces that I recognized but no one really spoke to anyone. We were all mourning her before she had even died. My mother had to almost force me to sit down in a chair next to her bed. What do I do? Does she even want me here? She is to me everything that I imagine a lady to be. Now she is empty. She was unconscious. I lay my hand next to her hand. “She can hear you.” The nurse was situating hoses around the bed. I watched the nurse. “How can she hear me?” “She is only resting because the morphine makes her sleepy. Talk to her, she will hear you.” I put my hand on top of hers moving my hand closer but gently not wanting to hurt her. She seemed delicate to me. Her already small frame was now frail; she looked to me to weigh no more than what a child would weigh.
“Aunt Sandra? Can you hear me?” I leaned in closer to her. I wanted to talk to her privately without the presence of the nurse standing in front of me. The nurse must have known that I wanted her to leave us alone. She walked away to leave me sitting beside this woman who was once my Aunt Sandra. What do I say? I’m sorry that you will no longer live? I’m sorry for not being a better niece? It is then that I wish I had spent more time with her.
The people around me now are paying attention, and they all talk in muffled voices and all the while I feel eyes behind me. Everyone was waiting for their chance to speak to her, but this is my time.
I wish to look into her eyes once more. I would have done anything to see her open her pale blue eyes. “I love you, so much. I want you to know that.” I paused and turned my head down to look at the floor. It is so hard to look at her. I can’t do this, I thought. I will never get the chance to tell her anything ever again so I must speak now. I must say something. “You mean so very much to me. I hope you are not in pain. I just wish you could hear me?” I stopped I could feel the burning inside my eyes and my throat. The pain shot in my chest. I wanted to leave her there, to now walk away and leave her in peace, for no other reason than to hide my own eyes from these people.
It was at that moment, she raised her hand slightly and grasped on to my hand. I looked up from the floor to watch her move her hand. There was no other movement in her body, I imagine that this was the most she could do. The pain must have been horrible but, she held on tight, and she held on for what seemed like hours. She didn’t have to say anything. She made no sounds nor did she open her eyes. But, I knew she heard me. She understood what I had said; there was nothing more that I needed to say. It was the worst and best feeling. Do you understand? I am losing my Aunt but I was able to tell her that I loved her. I think about all the people that lose someone and are never able to say goodbye. I said nothing more; I just sat there and cradled her hand in mine. To think about it now, I feel honored, in all her pain and weakness, she acknowledged me.
When she fell back asleep and she released my hand, I leaned over and kissed her hand than I kissed her face. I did not cry, not at that exact moment. I walked away from her bed and down the hall into the restroom. I stopped, paused to look at a picture hanging in the hallway. There was a beautiful woman. This woman was not in pain, she was not sick. This is the way I want to remember her. I glanced back to look at the woman in the hospital bed. That’s not her, I thought.
There is no God. For no God in heaven would destroy something so good and so dear to so many people. If God wanted to take her why couldn’t he have done it some other way? I couldn’t fathom why it had to end like this.
I can not let anyone see me cry. I stepped into the restroom and closed the door. I sat down on the floor in front of the tub. I pulled the towel down that was hanging on the rack above me. I put the towel over my face to hide the sounds coming from my mouth. I wanted to scream, but all that came out was moaning. My heart is breaking. I can feel it. I am not sure how long I sat there. My mother knocked on the door. “We’re leaving, Renee, come on.” On the drive home it was once again silent. I was happy about this; I did not want to talk about it to anyone. Especially my parents, to me they seemed cold and distant but now that I think about it we were all hurting and we could not find the words to make it better, so in these situations it is better to say nothing at all.
A few weeks passed. My mother and father would leave every evening to go see Aunt Sandra. I always thought of an excuse to stay behind. My mother and father never pushed it any further. I had said goodbye and I refused to watch her fall further away from us. I thought a lot about her in those weeks. I had written her many letters but never sent them to her. No words could ever describe what it meant to have known her.
The night that she passed away my mother called and told me on the phone from my aunt’s.
I said nothing; I managed to say, “Okay.” I hung up the phone and walked into my bedroom. What do I do now? It was very hard at that time in my life to understand it all. I did the best thing that I knew to do. I wrote to her, and I wrote about her. It was my way of coping with it all. I wanted to pretend that she still existed and that she knew how much I had loved her.
The funeral was held three days later. I sat in the back row of the funeral home grasping on to my mother’s hand. She had started crying before we had left the house. I refuse to show my tears. I no longer see it as being weak but rather something that no one should see. It was private and something I wish to do alone.
All around me I heard men and women crying, sobbing even. I felt bad for them because we all have our own memories of her, some were good and I am sure some were bad. This is the end, it isn’t until you are staring down at the lifeless body in a casket that you realize this fact. It hits, and it hit’s really fucking hard.
I try not to think of her too often, I still catch myself crying over her. I don’t care what anyone says the pain never goes away it still hurts as much today as it did at that moment. What we learn is to block it out. Out of sight out of mind, isn’t that how the saying goes?
Summer is right outside. I slept almost all summer long. I had nothing to do really. I maybe went to the movies occasionally but Nichole was not there to be with. She and I stopped seeing each other that summer; she spent the summer abroad in Europe with her family. I would get post cards saying that she wished I could be there, but did she really mean that or was it just something to say on a post card? On the night of her return we had planned to see each other but she had met up with some old friends of hers and planned a weekend out with them. I had only known Nichole for six months at the most and it may seem silly to think that it bothered me but yes it did, I am not a jealous person by nature, what bothered me is that she would never invite me to be with her and her friends. I believed or I felt that she was embarrassed to be seen with me.
Around the middle of August mother and I started to shop for school clothes. I wanted to start the year off right. I asked mom to take me to the nicest places and she did, and I was surprised to see that I was wearing a size eight and just the school year before that I was a size thirteen. I stood in the dressing room trying on pants and for the first time I felt like maybe an equal to all the pretty girls and maybe even my sister. Mom was proud of me. The sales lady heard mom and I talking excitedly about my weight loss and when I stepped out she gave me a hug. I thought this strange but I returned a smile.
Mom and I loaded up the new van that dad and she just purchased. Dad sat in the car listening to the radio and smoking cigarettes the whole time that we were in the shopping center. “Are we ready” dad asked? “Yes.”
We drove home and I carried all eight bags to my room. I had never seen so many clothes. I started to bring each item out, one by one. I admired every single article. It is strange now to think that something so small would make me feel so good about myself. I had gotten bell bottoms and combat boots, black lacy bras and shirts, new earrings, socks, underwear. I hung every item with care and I stuck the under garments in the dresser that mom had found. It was yellow and had a hole in the top but I covered it up with a doily and a bottle of Este Lauder perfume. No one ever knew the difference. I like to pretend that it wasn’t really there.
The weeks flew by and there was still no word from Nichole. I called but she never returned my calls. It just gave me even more time to myself. I was indulging myself at the time on The Cure; at that time in my life there was no man that could be as honest or more touching than Robert Smith. He was it and I was going to live in England with him when I became older. This is what silly young girls’ day dream about when given too much time alone.
I stopped sleeping a couple of weeks before school started. The thoughts in my head would not shut the fuck up. I felt confusion and betrayal on Nichole’s part. I was deeply upset at the way she treated me. I had not deserved it. I did what any young girl would do, when she would not return my calls or come to see me I decided that it was not worth the effort. She was a good person but it was time to move on.
It was the night before my first “big” day at Junior High School. Yeah, I was nervous. I stood in the bathroom staring at my reflection. My hair had gotten very long in just a few short months. I had started to receive dark blotchy spots under my eyes from my lack of sleep. I was going through my whole I hate my life and who am I phases, not that it did me much good because I lacked motivation to really do anything about it. No, I enjoyed sitting back and bitching about how imperfect things are and how unjust God and the world had been to me. I never had a chance, I thought. Life is over for me before it had begun, and who the fuck is this person I am staring at. I looked for hours studying and trying to understand, almost hoping for my subconscious mind to wake up and start talking to me in the mirror. This is real life and that doesn’t happen, but it would be nice if it could.
I smiled in the mirror and wished that my lips were bigger, and my eyebrows, what the hell was going on with the monstrosity before me. I have grown even more hair just standing there. It was out of control. I started to get the tweezers and pluck away.
Why is it that women feel the need to torture their selves? As women we become angry for men not noticing that we had changed our hair color or that we are wearing a new dress, if most men do not notice these things do we really think that they are going to notice some wild bushy eyebrows? However, these painful rituals that we induce upon ourselves is not for the eyes of the opposite sex no, we do these things for other women. If you think that a girlfriend or a mother or any girl in your vicinity will not notice that you are letting yourself go than you are wrong. Women will be the first to mention that we have not washed our hair or that our fingernails are uneven lengths, not men. So, why do we even bother? Simple, we are in competition at all times with the rest of the female population. I was determined to win at all costs, I owe it to myself.
After I was done staring at all of my deformities in the mirror I cleaned up and brushed my teeth. I headed off to bed but not before checking my clothes and making sure that everything was just right.
I put on my night shirt and lay down on the bed. I closed my eyes but not before day dreaming about what was to come. Have you ever tried to sleep the night before going to an amusement park? It was the same way for me that night. Sleep would not come easy. I wondered about Nichole, what really happened to make her flake off?
I fell asleep and it seemed like ten minutes later mom was screaming, “Another day another dollar, rise and shine.”
I got up without argue, did my rituals of staring at the mirror, putting on makeup, and all that nonsense. I ate my breakfast, got into the van and for the first time was waiting on my mom. “Hurry up,” I said.
Mom drove me to the school and dropped me off. I had already gotten my schedule the week before with mom.
I stepped into the school and knew that this would be it. This would be the beginning of my chance at glory. I was not expecting a miracle but I was expecting a little less then greatness.
First Period was choir; singing was always something that I could do fairly well. I saw Nichole sitting in front of me. She turned to look at me but when I tried to speak to her I was looked at very sternly by the choir director. I decided to wait to talk to her until after school.
Most of the day was taking notes on supplies that would be needed, and class rules and expectations. Not that I cared much to here any of it. I really did not feel that I was there for an education besides what; if anything could they teach me that I had not already read or learned. Yes, I thought I knew it all, don’t we all think this way to some degree as a teenager, of course I was wrong but I was not about to be told that.
It was later the next day at lunch when I would have the chance to talk to Nichole. She was standing around a lot of girls with their Dooney and Bourke purses and they were waiting in line. Dooney and Bourke bitches is what I thought of them, they are the girls in school that would carry $500.00 purses and talk shit about everyone else who could not afford one. They did not understand anything about anything and only cared for themselves and their reputations and Nichole had fallen into their midst. She was one of them and I was, well I was me and I will always be me.
I ran up to Nichole. “Nichole, where have you been?” She looked right through me and all of her friends turned to stare at me. “Why are you talking to me”, she said? I felt that a knife went straight through my chest and that I was being repeatedly jabbed at. She could not have said anything more hurtful and to top it off I had no idea where it was coming from. I felt the tears coming and I said nothing to her. As I was walking away I could hear all of the girls laughing at my expense. “Nichole is that you’re best friend?” Uproar of laughter filled the air and I was swallowing it down with a cold harsh slice of reality. I no more belonged in Nichole’s company than an Appalachian in Buckingham Palace. Girls like me and girls like her will never have anything in common.
Those fucking Dooney and Bourke bitches, who the fuck do they think they are? I may not belong in their country club, may father did not drive a Mercedes, but Christ I still have my dignity I will not let it get to me. I can’t let it get to me.
For the rest of the six weeks I dove into my work, I excelled in English and History. All the while pretending once again that everything was fine, at PE I would walk track alone with my walkman. The Dooney and Bourke bitches did their best to make my life hard, shouting profanities or throwing things at me. Oh well.
I remember having all of my classes with a beautiful girl. She was at least 5’9 and she had blonde hair and blue eyes. She was very striking and seemed to be very much popular with all the boys and all of the girls as well. Even Nichole was doing her best to charm her. Her name was Vanessa and at first she paid me no attention and then one day in history she turned to look at me. “You have beautiful eyes”, she said. I looked at her astonished. “Are you talking to me?” She giggled and asked me my name. “I’m Renee.” “Hey, would you like to come with my friends and I after school?” I thought about this for a moment, my mom always picked me up after school and there would have been no way I could go with Vanessa and her friends. “Yeah, sure.” I said this before my brain could stop my mouth.
“Okay, meet us out in the front after the last bell.” I smiled back at her. Then I wondered, why is she really talking to me?
I called my mother after lunch at the payphone. “Mom, a friend of mine asked me to hang out after school, is that okay?” “Yeah, okay.” I could hear her talking to other people in the office and then she hung up. I decided not to push my luck any further and just return to lunch. After the last bell rang, I felt a large lump in my throat. I felt like something bad was about to happen. I walked out of the front door as I did I passed Nichole. She did not even turn her head to look at me. I looked straight ahead and saw Vanessa with two other girls and two boys standing beside the flag pole. Vanessa saw me and she stopped what she was saying to smile. “You’re late”, she said. “I’m sorry I just had to get my algebra book I have homework.” Whatever I said must have been out of the ordinary because they all looked at me with there mouths open. Vanessa smiled again. “Let’s go”, she said.
We walked away from the school and down the road. We must have walked three blocks from the school when ever single kid lit a cigarette. “Do, you want a cigarette, Vanessa asked as she pulled a cigarette from her pack. “Sure”, I said. My parents were chain smokers, honestly. However, I never liked the smell and when I lit the cigarette everyone was staring at me. I guess that they were waiting for me to cough or gag. But, I didn’t gag. I didn’t inhale either and this went unnoticed as everyone started to talk again. We walked along a field and the boys parted ways. Vanessa kissed one of them on the cheek and said bye. We kept walking. “Where are we going”, I asked? Vanessa looked at her friend and then back at me. “I found my moms’ stash last night.” “Her what”, I asked? Her friend laughed at me. Jennifer was her name now that I think about it. Jennifer spoke to me like I was a child, she talked very slowly and precise as to not confuse me. “SHE FOUND HER MOMS WEED.” Vanessa and Jennifer laughed at me and I started to blush. I was not stupid so there was no need to talk to me like this and I felt at that moment I could just run away and never look back, but then again this is the first time that I was asked by another person to go anywhere with them. It was worth the strange looks and the snares just to be next to someone my own age.
We came to Vanessa’s apartment and she walked inside. The house was a mess but Vanessa informed me that her mom worked full time and she had two younger brothers. I then understood. The girls disappeared and left me standing in the living area by myself. I noticed all of the Halloween decorations lying about. The girls came skipping back into the living room holding a tin metal tray with what looked to be like green dried leaves that had been smashed and cigarette rolling papers, I noticed the rolling papers because my Great Uncle Austin rolled cigarettes in front of me and my sister when we were small children.
She sat down on the couch and removed some clothes that were lying beside her. “Sit down, guys, she said.” I did as she asked. “Have you ever smoked before, she asked me?” She was still staring down at the weed and sorting through it. I felt embarrassed because if I lied I am sure that they would know. “No, I said looking down at my hands.” “It’s okay; you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” She looked sincere this time. “No, I want to try it, I said.” She rolled her joint and then lit it. She handed it to Jennifer after she took a deep drag and she was holding it in and not talking or breathing. Jennifer smiled and closed her eyes and sat back in her chair. She again took a deep drag but exhaled as soon as she inhaled it. She looked over at me without moving her head only her eyes and passed it to me. It smelled atrocious but I put it up to my lips and both girls were watching me as I slowly inhaled the smoke into my lungs. I thought I was going to be sick as it filled my chest. It hurt and I started to cough, no, not cough, I was gagging. I felt like I would never breathe again. The girls started to laugh as they both hit me on the back. “Not, so hard, Renee, take it easy.” I started to laugh because the whole thing was very funny. “I think I’ve had enough, I said.” I got up and stretched my legs as Vanessa and Jennifer finished their joint. “Can I use your phone, I asked?” Vanessa stared at the kitchen and pointed towards the phone hanging off of the wall. I dialed home and mom answered the phone. “Hey, mom.” “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” “What?, I asked. You said I could go to my friend’s house after school. I am at my friend’s house.” Renee, you have two minutes to get back to the school and wait for your father. He is out looking for you and he is fucking pissed.” “What the fuck ever.” I hung up the phone and both Jennifer and Vanessa were staring at me. “I’m sorry, I got to go.” “It’s okay, sweetie.” She hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I grabbed my backpack and walked to the door and stepped out. “I’ll see you at school, Renee.” “Okay, I said.”
As soon as I was clear from anyone watching me I ran to the school. I still have never run that fast. What the fuck. Did she not understand me? I called, I asked permission. My dad had a temper to say the least. I spent many years watching him lose his temper on my moms or my sister face. I did not want to receive this kind of punishment.
I was standing on the other side of the street from the school. I could see my dad standing outside the van looking for some sign of me, I suppose. I ran across the street not even looking first and ran up to my father. He only looked at me; he did not say a word. He got in the van and closed his door. I walked around the van to the other side of the door. I opened it and got inside. He started the truck and never once looked at me nor did he talk to me. He drove in silence and I sat in silence.
We got home and he used his clicker and drove all the way down on the first isle of the property and up the second one to the side door had sat to the apartment. He got out. I was contemplating and holding my strap to my backpack in my hand. I turned and looked out the window and then looked down to find the handle to open the door. I reacted as slowly as possible because I had no idea what was about to happen.
My feet hit the ground. I walked with my head down, and into the house. My mother was standing at the door that divided the apartment from the office and she had been crying and her glasses were broken. She was holding them and trying to put them back together. My dad walked up the stairs and into his room. “Because of you my glasses are broken.” “Really, mom, how the fuck is it my fault?” “Watch your mouth. And go take that shit off of your face.” I got up from the table, I looked back and I could still see her rubbing her eyes from crying and from being slapped repeatedly in the face by my father. I walked up the stairs and into the room. On one hand I felt bad that my mother was hurt but it was not my fault. Also, I had friends now. My friends were pot heads but they were my friends.
Vanessa and I became close throughout the next couple of weeks. We talked, and wrote letters to each other. She understood me. She may have been very popular and everyone wanted to be around her but she never acted that way. She was intelligent, beautiful, and creative. She had a habit of complimenting everyone which at times seemed a bit fake but none the less appreciated. I was almost envied by everyone to now be the center of her and her friends. People looked at me different and acted different towards me. The Dooney and Bourke bitches were pissed beyond belief. I felt satisfied to a point. This was nice and I would have never expected it. Popularity is a strange thing, and it means so much to some people but it never really meant much to me now that I think about it. I was still me and I am still genuine. Every one wants to be accepted for who they really are and I did feel this way. Vanessa says that she saw this and why she had to know me. The school was full of fakes every single one of them all wanted to be something other than what they were labeled as. I was genuine yes, but I was seen differently by other people. I would be called a prude, snob, and a poser. What the fuck ever. They didn’t know me. None of them ever knew me, “they” didn’t count.
A week before Halloween a very good looking boy came up to me in the hall as I was getting books out of my locker. Jesse was Italian he had beautiful hair and eyes and talked repeatedly about how he could have anyone killed. Yeah, I found him attractive and I had never even had a boy look at me before. He was transfixed with me. He followed me around, carried my books, and wrote me letters. I went out with him on Halloween night. He lived with his mom and his dad was back in Brooklyn working. I found out that his dad was an attorney and his mom no longer had to work, she just had to keep her mouth shut about certain things. Maybe that is why she moved with her son to Texas. I am not sure. He showed me his room and the rest of his house. Everything was beautiful and very elegant. I felt a little out of place. But, even his mother was asking me about school and music. She was a very pretty lady. As we were walking outside to his backyard his mother stopped us she was staring at me and holding on to my arm, “Jesse really likes you, he can’t stop talking about you.” I giggled and looked at Jesse, I could see that he was blushing and fidgeting for the door. We walked outside and it was a beautiful night. There were no stars anywhere but the moon was full, huge, and yellow. There were a few clouds in the sky but none to overcast the moon. We sat down on a bench and both looked up at the sky. He looked at me and smiled at me. “Can I ask you something?” He was staring into my eyes very intently and inching even closer. “Sure, I said.” I stood up to avoid his eyes. I knew where this was going and I felt very uncomfortable. “Can I kiss you”, he asked? “Um, I, Uh, Um, yeah.” I felt like I was going to be sick. Why did I say that? He touched my face with his hand and pushed my hair aside. With his other hand he brought my face closer to his. He then wrapped his arm around my waist. He never broke eye contact with me. I was not sure what I was supposed to do. He then pressed his lips to mine. It was a strange feeling. I had never had anyone’s lips touch my own before besides my mother‘s. He opened his mouth and I followed him. It was a perfect dance, he was the leader and I followed. I pulled away from him and wiped my mouth and stared at him and laughed. “What? he asked” “Nothing.” I was giddy. I was excited. However, I was not expecting a kiss to be that bad. It wasn’t bad; it’s just not what I had expected. It was fast, and hurried and very sloppy. My chin was even wet.
I heard my mom pull up in the front drive. I gave Jesse a kiss on the cheek and smiled at him. I looked around to see if I was leaving anything behind. I remembered that I had left my purse in his bedroom. “He walked in front of me and opened the door for me. I stepped inside. His mother had already opened the door and engaged in conversation with my mother. Mom was shaking her head and smiling as she always did when she spoke to people she didn‘t know. Jesse disappeared and brought me my purse from his bedroom. I took my purse and put it around my shoulder. I stepped toward the door and his mother opened it wider never once looking at me but still talking to my mother.
His mother looked at him. “Are you going to walk her outside, Jesse?” My mother and his mother both smiled at us. I walked out the door and to my mothers van. He grabbed me by the arm and started to kiss me again. I put my hand in front of his mouth. “My mother is right there.” “I’m sorry, he said” I opened the front passenger door and got inside. I watched him as we drove away. There was something about the whole thing that felt wrong to me. He was good looking, came from a semi sane family, and yet there was something missing. Or maybe it was that awful kiss.
November sucked. My grades started to slip and Jesse and I broke up shortly after Halloween. He never looked at me or talked to me after that. But, I saw that he cried when I told him that I didn’t want to go out with him.
Unfortunately Nichole and I were not any better than we were. It was one morning in choir class that I had enough. We were preparing for winter recital when the director stopped what he was doing and banged his fist on the piano. We all looked at him in fear. He never raised his voice above a whisper and always had words of encouragement for his students.
“WHO IS OFF KEY?” I put my head down, I am sure it was me, I had not been practicing and to tell you the truth I wanted out of this bullshit class, I hated being this close to Nichole. Nichole and her friend Shanda looked at me and laughed. “Fuck you, you fucking bitch.” I was furious. It was not her place to announce my short comings. She was nothing but a hand me down Dooney and Bourke bitch. She didn’t even have half the class the other bitches did. If this would have been a TV drama she would have been written off after the first season. She looked astonished and I really didn‘t care. I decided for once in my life to stand up for myself. “GET OUT.” The director was furious and I could feel his eyes glaring at me. “No problem.” I grabbed my things and I kicked my chair with my foot barely missing Shanda’s face. I slammed the door. I threw my things across the hall and almost hit a girl sitting there. She had long blonde stringy dirty looking hair and was wearing way too much eyeliner. “Watch it.” “I’m sorry.” I picked up my things and sit down next to her. “What’s wrong”, she asked. The girl could not put on makeup that was for sure half of her face was nearly white and the blackened eyes made her look half dead. She was wearing torn jeans and a flannel. This was the beginning of grundge and it was cool to look hooked on heroine and homeless. She was working on something and she put it down to stare at me. “Sorry, nothing.” “Okay. She said.” I picked up my bag and started to go through it. I found my algebra homework and started to work on it.
Just at that time a boy came walking up the hallway. He was tall and extremely good looking. His hair hung down over his eyes. He stopped, turned abruptly on his heels and faced the girl beside me. She laughed. “What do you want?” She asked him. He bent down and gave her a hug. He then walked off. He was impressive looking. He would sure piss of my mom.
“Who was that? I asked. “Him?” “Yeah” “That’s just Tracy. He’s my ex. Why?” “He’s really cute.” “Yeah, he thinks so too.” I laughed. I needed to laugh. “So, what happened really?” She was looking at me with her eyes squinted. I felt I should tell her the truth besides I almost did hit her with my bag. “Oh, well, this girl is a real bitch and she pissed me off, so I told her to fuck off.” She laughed at me. “Good for you. I’m Julie.” “Hey, Julie. I’m Renee.” “Are you single, Renee?” I looked at her. Was this really any of her business? “Yes, why?” “So, is Tracy.” I smiled at her.
The bell rang and I told her goodbye. I left the door before the director or Nichole came walking out.
I went off to my next class. English class was somewhat a favorite class. The teacher and I had an understanding. I did my work but I would sleep anytime I wanted to in her class. I was half awake today instead of half dead and noticed a girl sitting at my desk. “That’s where I sit.” “God, I’m sorry, she said.” She got up and sat in the chair beside me. “No, someone else sits there.” I am sure I was being a bitch and taking it out on her but I was not meaning to. “This seat is free.” I pointed to the seat behind me. She got up once again and grabbed her things. She was a pretty girl but she looked very forlorn. She had curly 1980’s hair and was wearing a metal shirt of some kind. She sat her things at the desk behind me. Vanessa was absent that day so I had no one to talk to. I decided to make friendly chat.
I turned around. And faced her. “Are ya new?” She looked up from her book. “Yes.” I just moved here from Rochester, New York.” Now that I talked to her I could hear her northern accent. I was almost embarrassed. I was sure that people form New York did not think kindly of people from the south. “What’s your name?” “Erica.” “I’m Renee.”
“Ladies?” The teacher was staring at us. “Are you talking about Literature?” I laughed. “You’re kidding, right?” She rolled her eyes at me.
She then proceeded to go over her assignment for the day. I did not turn back around to speak to Erica. I engrossed my self in THE PIGMAN. It is not the best story ever written. I found it juvenile compared to what I was reading at home.
The bell rang and I got up to go to my history class. “Renee?” The teacher called me back. “Yes.” “You have so much potential. I hate to see you waste your time.”
I turned and walked away without saying anything to her. With what she just said to me I felt that I did not need to justify her remark with a reply. The book she had us read was about how adults did not understand teenagers, she fell into that category no matter how much she tried not to.
I fell out into the hallway along with all the other aimless calf and stampeded my way toward my history class. I wanted to walk right out. There was Nichole sitting in my class room. What is she doing here? “Why are you here? You’re not in this class?” She dropped her books to the floor beside her I heard them hit the floor with a loud thump. She locked her eyes to mine. “I transferred not that it’s any of your business.” “That’s fucking great.”
I put down my books and turned to face the door. Erica was standing there holding her schedule and looking at the number on the door to make sure that she was at the right place.
“Are you lost or are you following me?” I looked at her and grabbed her schedule, not in a mean way but I had no time for onlookers, I was about to knock Nichole out.
People moved through the door way knocking me out of my stance every time.
I looked at her schedule. She was at the right place.
“You can sit by me, Erica.” I smiled at Nichole in my most evil way possible. I pointed to the desk next to mine. She walked inside and sat down next to me.
The teacher was not there that day. We had a substitute that day. Everyone went crazy. They started to laugh and to make noise. The substitute did not try to discourage them either. He sat behind the desk and started to read the morning paper.
“So, Erica, do you like Texas?” “Yeah, people are really nice.” I found this hard to believe, especially how rough I had been. Erica and I talked the whole way through class. She had an older sister in the ninth grade and she had another sister in Elementary and one sister that was four and not in school yet. Her mother was a nurse and her grandmother had a farm in Fort Worth. I listened I had nothing to say. I was still brooding about Nichole. I must do something to make it stop once and for all.
The bell rang and it was lunch time. Erica and I walked together. We stood in line together and ate together. We had the next period together, P.E. P.E. was my fuck off class. I have never liked it much. I was well endowed at my age and I could always feel eyes watching me as I changed my clothes. So, needless to say the P.E. teacher hated me as well. Erica did not bring clothes to suit out in so her and I sat in the corner and laughed at the other girls playing volleyball.
Before I knew it the day was over and I was walking outside to meet my mother. I saw Julie and Tracy hugging each other and saying bye. Tracy looked over at me and waved. I waved back. Did she say something to him about me being single and thinking he was attractive? Oh, my God. I walked faster to the van and got in.
After a few more weeks Erica and I became closer. Inseparable would be a better term for us. I found in Erica the same qualities that I myself had. Don’t get me wrong. Vanessa was beautiful and popular and everything that I wanted to be. However, Vanessa and I were very different. Vanessa and Erica became friends and my personal ARMY for defeating Nichole. I met many more people in just a few weeks time, beautiful, smart, popular people. The strange thing was is that these people now considered me a friend of theirs. Just a year earlier I was sitting in my room alone or sitting at lunch alone. I can never say that Nichole was ever a friend. At this point in my life I decided that my goal was to just be as happy as possible.
It became very close to Christmas once again. Christmas time changes people, it makes them braver so to speak. I was in the eighth grade hall one afternoon carrying some poetry to be submitted in the Hurst Junior High Paper. I saw Tracy walking directly in my path. He was making eye contact with me. Oh, my God. What do I do? Do I make eye contact back; do I run away, do I smile, should I say something witty? He was very handsome. Tracy was 6’0 and very husky. He was almost perfect. I can remember his smile and how his face would almost light up and every time I looked at him I couldn’t speak. I was not a shy person. I am surrounded by the click every one wanted to be a part of and words never once failed me. It was only Tracy that managed to make me feel this way. He stopped as I was directly beside him turned on his toes and laughed.
“WHAT?” I almost shouted these words at him not meaning to. It was just… Did I have something on my face, why was he laughing? He must have been taken back by this and sort of jumped back a little. “I was just saying, hey, O…KAY?” Now I felt stupid. He was being polite and I was taking it as criticism. I smiled. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s cool.” “Okay, I got to go.” He turned back around and walked off. I am so fucking stupid. Why did I do that? Why am I so dumb?
I walked on to my destination. I wanted to add my poetry to the paper. I felt that I had made an improvement on my work, since I had started studying English Poets. My favorite poets were Christina Rossetti, and William Blake. I had studied the Sonnets of William Shakespeare and had made my own version.
I walked into the small editorial room but the teacher was gone. There was a small girl sitting on the opposite side of the teacher’s desk looking over papers. “Can I help you?” The young girl was staring at me. I was obviously not the type to drop by on a visit. “Hi, um, I just wanted to submit some of my work.” “Oh, just put it on her desk, she will be back later.” I put my papers on her desk making sure that I had dated and signed all of them. I turned around out of the class room and walked on.
Guess who was walking once again toward me? Yes, it was him. He was really laughing hard this time. “Hey”, he said. “Hi.” At this point I was beyond self conscious. I really did not want to mess up my second encounter with him. I was probably acting semi normal. I am guessing. “Can I have your number?” “You want my number?” I asked. I looked dumbfounded. The bad thing is neither one of us had anything to write on or to write with. “What’s your name, he asked?” “I’m Renee.” “Renee, yeah I have seen you before with Vanessa. You know my friend Julie?” “Yeah, I met her once.” “That’s cool.” He stood on his tip toes and stepped back a little further. “It was nice to meet you; I really got to go, Tracy.” I smiled and walked away. Then he came running up beside me grabbing my sweater as he did.
“Renee, can you remember my number?” I looked at him and smiled, yeah, I would remember his number. “Yes.” He told me his number and then he walked back to his class. As soon as he was out of sight I jogged a little to my history class. I had to get his number down on paper before I forgot it. I walked all the way to the class repeating the number.
Jesse was standing in the hallway with his mom and he was taking all of his books out of his locker. He stopped to look up at me and so did his mother. He was about to speak, “I can’t talk now,” I said. I kept on walking. “Renee.” Jessie came jogging up and stepped in front of me. “I’m going back to New York.” “That’s nice.” I stepped out around him and kept on walking. “That’s it, that’s all you’re going to say to me?” I stopped and turned only my head to face him. I smiled. “Yup, that’s all I got to say. See you later.” I rolled my eyes and starting to run now to get away from him and his needless affection for me. Some would find him sweet, charming, I saw him as pathetic and even weak.
Erica and Vanessa were throwing wads of paper at Nichole behind the teacher’s back. Mrs. Hyman was giving her lecture about some war many years ago that has nothing to do with right now. Mrs. Hyman stopped and turned to look at me. She sat down her chalk and walked very slowly to where I was standing. “Renee, you’re tardy. I believe that this is the tenth tardy this six weeks and that means Saturday school.” “Do what you must.” I smiled my biggest smile and sat down at my desk between Vanessa and Erica. “To someone like you I am sure it wouldn’t mean much.” Mrs. Hyman’s nostrils were flaring. I knew that the teachers hated me. I don’t blame them, I slacked off, and I did and said what ever the fuck I wanted to. I honestly did not mean it as disrespect. I am only making up for lost time. She turned around back to the chalk board.
I took out my notebook and started to write Tracy’s number down. When I came to the last digit in his telephone number I could not for the life of me remember what he had said. I closed my eyes and tried to recall everything. Did he say four? Damn it. I closed my notebook and turned my head. Nichole was hunched over her desk and doing her best to keep the wads of paper from hitting her in the face. Was it really worth it? Was any of this going to matter a few years down the road? Why am I angry with Nichole? I could name a million and one reasons why I am angry now but I can’t tell you how all of this started. “Vanessa, leave her alone.” “What’s your problem?” “Just leave her alone.” Nichole never once looked up to see me for all I know she could have been cursing and muttering my name or she could have been crying from the insensate abuse from my friends.
Stephanie was sitting on the floor watching Barney when I came home that Friday after school. I picked her up and kissed her. I put her on my hip and went into the kitchen. I found the cookies on top of the refrigerator and handed her two of them. I put her down on the ground to walk back to the television where Barney was singing his gay ass theme song. Mom was in the office but her door was open to keep an eye on the baby.
Mom hung up the phone and smiled at me. “We’re going out tonight.” “Cool, where are we going, mom?” “Not you Renee, you got to stay here and look after Stephanie.” “What if I said that I had fucking plans and that it is not my mother fucking job to watch someone else’s kid?”
“No.” Mom shook here head at me. “You have to watch Stephanie.” I rolled my eyes and made my way to my room. Stephanie turned her little head to watch me. The shouting must have frightened her because she had dropped both of her cookies on the floor and started to cry. I walked back in to the kitchen and got her two more cookies.
I sat down on the chair in the living room and held out the cookies for her to come and get them. She wobbled over to me and took the cookies out of my hand. She turned back around to the television where another episode of Barney had just come on.
I had wanted to call Tracy but I had forgotten the last digit. I guess I could always dial the number and then try a new last digit until I find the right number? I would try that. But, how can I distract Stephanie long enough to use the phone? I guess I could always put her to bed early in my mom’s room and then sneak off to my room to try and use the
phone? At 6:00 PM my mother and father were out the door. She kissed Stephanie goodbye and stared down at me. “Watch her.” “No, mom I am going to let her play out in the street.” She gave me her most I hate you look and closed the door behind her.
Why me? Why do I always have to be the one to take care of her? My sister had friends and she just married that Jordan guy, I am sure that he had family, I know he did. But, it was always me to take care of her. I had given up so many weekends. Yes, I am sure I sound like I am pouting but from day one I had to be responsible for her while my much prettier and popular sister got to go out with friends. Was my sister my mother’s favorite? It would appear so?
I got up from where I was sitting and put the baby gate in front of the kitchen. I did not want the baby to get hurt while I was making dinner. I looked through the cabinets and fridge. I found some macaroni and cheese and some hot dogs and some moldy bread, everything else was either frozen or too complicated to mess with. Mom could have gotten us some fast food before she left but I was sure she had other things on her mind.
I boiled the hot dogs and boiled the water for the macaroni and cheese.
When it was done, I cut up the hot dogs in small pieces and put it in with the macaroni and cheese. It was not a great meal but Stephanie seemed to like it.
I gave her a sippy cup of milk and put on a tape of Barney and sat down with her on the couch, rocking her back and forth. It was 8:45 before she fell asleep and still no word from my mom.
I left Stephanie asleep on the couch, I placed a pillow in front of her and one on the floor incase she rolled off. I snuck into the kitchen grasping my notebook and the telephone. I
started dialing the number and starting with putting 0 as the last digit. That number was
disconnected. I went all the way to 9 before I had the right number.
“Hello”, came a women’s voice from the other end. “Hello, may I please speak to, Tracy?” “Who is this?” “My name is Renee; I go to school wi…” “Little girl, do you know what time it is?” “Yes ma’am. It is 9:00.” “That’s right, and Tracy can not have calls past 8:00. It would be very wise if you did not call again after 8:00. Do you understand me?”
Before I could answer back she hung up the phone on me. Well, that did not go as well as I had hoped. Well, that figures.
I heard crying in the next room and went to see that Stephanie had rolled off and she was standing up and holding her arms out to me wanting me to pick her up. I walked over to her and felt her diaper. She needed to be changed again. I took her upstairs and changed her and put her in my bed. I laid down beside her after I had changed into my night clothes. She turned her little face toward mine and started to twirl my hair in her short little fingers. This was something that I was used to. She and I had become very close because we had spent so much time together. Of course it was forced but I loved her as much or maybe even more than her own mother.
I awoke the next morning to the phone next to my bed ringing. I picked up the phone and hung it back up and rolled back over not to disturb Stephanie. Before I could close my eyes the phone began to ring again. Stephanie heard this and woke up. She started to cry. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and twirled her hair.
“Hello.” “Good morning. You and Stephanie come down and eat.” It was mom and she was calling me from her office. I hung up the phone and put on my robe. I walked with Stephanie down the stairs and sat her in her high chair. I scooped some Oat meal in her bowl and went back up stairs to lie down. I was sure mother could handle it from here. I was exhausted and pissed off for now my weekend was ruined and I blamed it all on my mother and Katarina.
I walked back up the stairs took off my robe and fell back down on my bed. I was just about to sleep. I was starting to dream of what I could be doing instead of being stuck here. The phone rang. “I WAS ALMOST ASLEEP, WHAT?”
“Hello. Is Renee there?” The voice at the other end was very serious and deep. I stood up and my heart was racing. “Who is this?” But, I knew it was him. Oh my God. “This is Tracy. Um, you called last night. I got bitched out for it.” “I am so sorry. I really didn’t know it was that late.” “It’s cool. What are you doing later?” “Me? Nothing, well, I have to watch my little niece but I could do something later.” He paused; he wanted to ask me something. It got quiet. He cleared his throat. “Do you know where the pond is? It’s right before you get to River Trails?” “Yes.” He was referring to the pond right outside my house, just about maybe a mile from me. “Do you want to meet me there?” “Yeah, when?” “Three O’clock? Is that okay?” “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” It got quiet again. He hung up the phone. My heart was still racing. I wanted to jump up and down. Shit, I haven’t showered or shaved or anything.
I jumped in the shower and quickly washed my hair. I shaved as well. I toweled my hair and stood in front of the mirror. I have changed I think. My eyes brighter, my body slimmer and I seemed to stand more confident.
I brushed my teeth and ran my fingers through my hair. I went to my room. I found my black bra and panties. I found a dark blue shirt and some jeans. I looked at the clock it was 2:00. I still have time to do my makeup. I sat down at the edge of my bed and picked up my purse. I started with my lotion and finished with a touch of blush. Not bad
I thought. The clock said 2:30. I walked downstairs and saw my mother on the couch with Stephanie. “I will be back in a while,” I told her. Before she could say anything I walked out the side door. I walked fast to avoid her calling me back. She never did ask me where I was going.
I walked to the end of the isle and in front of me was the back fence. There was a hole cut in the fence just big enough for me to squeeze through.
I walked down a hill and over some rail road tracks. There was a wooded area in front of me. I walked through, the further I went the darker it became. It appeared to me that it was very chilly outside for spring and I found myself sticking my hands in my pocket.
I came to the pond. Not a pond like you would think it was really more like a big hole in the ground. There he was standing on the opposite side of the pond. He was smoking a cigarette, holding it with his thumb and pointer finger. When he exhaled the smoke came out of his nose and his mouth. He walked toward me and flicked his cigarette as he did so. He laughed when I was standing in front of him.
“Do you want to walk,” he asked me. “Sure.” We started to walk and we chatted as we did so. He was smart, funny, and I found him most sincere. He was the most exciting person I had met. He had a beautiful smile, and for his age he was tall, athletic, and more than that, he was attractive. I found myself staring at him, to the point he was starting to become embarrassed maybe a little insecure.
“Do you live in River Trails?” As I said this I pointed behind him. River Trails was a large community made up of large over priced homes. He looked behind him as if he was not sure what I was talking about and then turned to smile at me. “Yeah.”
“Okay, I said.” I nodded my head and checked my watch. It was 4:30 and I had walked out the door at 2:30. I wanted to stay but knew that I had to leave. I found myself wanting to touch him. I wanted to hold him close to me. I had never felt this before. It was a burning sensation all over my body. There was an aching inside me. What was this, I thought?
I smiled. “I have to leave, I said.” I turned my head around to stare behind me. It had already started to get dark out and the sun was setting behind me.
“Bye,” he said. I turned around and started to leave when he grabbed my arm. He pulled me close to him. I breathed him in. His smell made me want to stay even longer. He pulled my hair and bent down toward my face. He closed his eyes, I did the same. My heart could not be contained inside my chest and I was starting to sweat. But I could not stop. I didn’t want it to stop. His one hand rested on my neck and the other inside my sweater on my back underneath my bra. He was moving his hand closer to my stomach. My muscles tensed and I started to get dizzy. His mouth touched mine and then his tongue. It massaged and moved inside my mouth. It was the most perfect feeling, nothing could ever compare. My face turned when his did. My tongue moved when his did, I breathed when he did. My body started to tremble and I had a sensation to lie down. I had to stop my brain told me. I can’t do this.

I pulled away. I put my hands on his chest; I separated his body from mine.
I had to breathe, I had to think. It was cloudy and my mind kept repeating to return to his smile, his eyes, and his arms. I laughed. “I’ll see you later, he said.” He turned to walk away from me. I wanted to grab him and kiss him again, but knew I had to stop.
What time was it? I watched him walk, I stared at him, I wanted him to turn around and see me but then I felt my face start to burn. I must leave.
I walked away and did not look back until I was a safe distance away. I could see nothing but trees behind me, it was much darker now. It was nearly 5:00. I skipped over the tracks and pushed myself through the fence and I ran the rest of the way home.
The side door was locked and so I had to knock on the door to get someone to let me in. My dad answered the door. I had one thought in my mind. I hope that he could not tell by my face what I had just done.
He stepped aside and opened the door wider for me. I walked in. I smelled mother cooking. It made me nauseous. I could never eat again. My stomach was still flipping. I ran up the stairs and straight to my room. I sat down on my bed. I wanted to jump up and down, I wanted to scream.
The phone rang later that night. Dad answered and then screamed up the stairs that it was for me.
“Hello, I said.” Dad came on the phone, “You got it.” Dad hung up muttering something about boys calling me to mother. “Hey.” It was him, there goes my thoughts, and I could not say anything. Why can’t I think of anything to say to him? I seem like a stupid girl I was sure of that. “Hey, I said.” We talked a short while it was nearly 8:00 and I heard his mother screaming at him to get off the phone. “I got to go, he said” “Tracy?” Before I could stop myself, it came out, it was impulse. “Do you want to go out? I mean do you want to be with me. I mean not be with me but go out with me?” Stupid girl, shit. “No. he said.” He then hung up the phone. I hung up and stared confused at the wall. “What?” What just happened and why did he say no? I could have sworn the way he looked at me he was interested. The kiss was amazing. I just don’t understand.
Ten minutes had passed and the phone rang again. I had been pacing the floor and going over in my mind what I had said and done that afternoon. I jumped startled at the sound of the phone. “Hello?” “Renee?” It was him. Even though I was hurt and disappointed I wanted to talk to him. “Yes”, I strained to make a sound come out. “Do you want to go out with me?”
“I just asked you that question and you said no.” “So?” “Are you kidding me? Oh, my God, did you do that to me on purpose?” He laughs, “Yup.”
“No,” I said. He got still and quiet. “Really, why not”, he asked. “Because, Tracy you didn’t ask me the right way.” If Tracy wanted to play games I could play them too. “And what is the right way” he asked. “I won’t tell you. You will just have to find out on your own.”
“Tracy.” His mother was yelling for him to get off the phone. “I’ll see you later.” I heard the phone go quiet. I heard a single click and then the dial tone. I remember that night and I remember how easy it felt to be myself. That’s all I needed to be. For some ungodly reason he liked me.
The next few days went by so fast. I went everywhere with him. If I was not with him I was on the phone with him. You could have said that I was infatuated or that this was my first crush. I saw it more than that. I had conquered being afraid to talk to him to never shutting up around him. He would come over or I would go to be with him at the pond. We would kiss, laugh, I could have held on to him and not even in my death would I have let go.