You've Probably Never Heard Of Us
Actually, I couldn’t tell you the first time I met Jenny. I could tell you, however, two things random things about my adventure with Jenny. One, something that made me indescribably happy. The other, unbelievably sad. I guess it wasn’t really my first heartbreak, but it must have meant something, because I remember it like it was yesterday.
So, anyway, Jenny. You know, I guess 14 or 15. I was 15. She had long, straight, light brown hair, almost blonde. Pale skin. And pale, pale, blue eyes. Bright eyes. A cute little nose and pouty lips. She was sort of the devilish type. I met her mom a few times, this sort of serious, dour woman that didn’t seem to smile much. Not unhappy, just neutral. Jenny did sort of look like her, I mean, you could see the family resemblance.
So, for whatever reason, her mom and my mom used to drive Jenny and I to meet up at the bowling ally. You know, for a “date.” And then, unbelievably, they would go back home, and leave us unsupervised for like, two hours. I guess they figured we couldn’t get up to too much in a crowded bowling ally.
It must have been weekly for at least half a semester. From the very first time, our routine was exactly the same. We would go get our bowling shoes, bowl one game, then go ouside, around to the side of the building, and make out. You know, teenager make out. We’d smash our open mouths together, stick our tongues in each other’s mouths, and press our bodies against each other. I would feel up her boobs, and then after a bit she would push my hands away. We’d stop, part a little bit, look deeply into each other’s eyes, then start up again. Lips, tongue, bodies, boobs, hands. Eyes.
It was – amazing. Intoxicating.
I mean, sure, of course we knew we weren’t supposed to be doing this. If our parents ever found out, we’d be in serious trouble. Sometimes I’d feel guilty. But it felt like we were just on autopilot. Like it wasn’t even us, like it was just our bodies doing it without “us.” We’d talk on the phone, about what, I haven’t a clue. We’d talk at school, and sometimes, we’d duck into some empty room between classes and do a quick little makeout. Just get a quick little jolt, wipe the drool off of our lips, then part ways and go to class.
Well, the last time. She was cruel. Apparently, I got dumped. She didn’t bother to tell me, she just went into the empty room with some other guy, a junior. I was both heartbroken and humiliated. We had the next class together. She sat in the row in front of me, and kept looking back. I wanted to cry – I couldn’t hide my emotions. I knew my cheeks were flushed. I knew I was frowning. She looked back at me, guilty at first, then sort of apologetic.
Then, she snickered. I swear. A devious smile. Heartless, she was.
OK, really, it all started with Carrie. Carrie, and Katie. Carrie was one of us, and Jenny was one of them. You see, our private school had folded. We just didn’t have enough students, so our school and another smaller school had merged into a larger private school. So there was probably 15 of us that all started attending this new school. At first all the new kids hung out together, but eventually we made friends with the rest of the kids. Carrie and Katie were best friends, and started hanging out with Jenny at some point.
I must have known Carrie for years. We were friends, and I had told her I liked Katie. Katie had dirty blonde hair, she was tall, and was filled out in that intoxicating way all the girls seemed to bloom into one year. Carrie had pure blonde hair and blue eyes. She was short, petite, and had a funny laugh.
But, see, Carrie was weird. Years later, I would do a college paper on Carrie, for my freshman psychology class. Just out of the blue, after not seeing her for three years, we met at the local public library, in our hometown. She knew the story, what had happened to us a few years before. We caught up, and she told me what she was studying. Herself. Her issue, why she was in therapy, seeing the doctor. And although at the time, there was simply no way for me to know this, the two subjects we were researching at the library were related. Her “issue” – her sickness. Her problem.
So, when Carrie told me her story, years later, I of course immediately thought of Jenny.
TO BE CONTINUED
Running just as fast as we can
Holdin’ on to one another’s hand
Tryin’ to get away into the night
And then you put your arms around me
And we tumble to the ground
And then you say