5. Unrequited

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Once, I met a boy. He had straggly long greasy hair, and he was very awkward. He was the kind of boy who felt more comfortable behind a computer then he did talking to people. The two of us hung out with a group who were refered to as the "recy's" because they hung out at the recreational building across from the high school and smoked cigarettes. I desperately wanted to be a part of these people. A part of me was always a bit rebellious.

One day, this boy asked me out. I don't know why I said yes, I had just broken up with Juan, and I had my eyes on a number of the other, more popular boys in my class. As his car came to pick me up, I remember laying out on my bench in my backyard, trying my best to look cute. I was so nervous. Maybe I made him nervous, too. He was only seventeen, and I was only a freshman. I was taking him to meet my grandmother. I always took my boyfriends to meet my grandmother because she always had such good insight into their personalities. She could meet someone once and tell me if they were right.

It was supposed to be a simple, easy day, but things never turn out the way we plan. As we turned onto her street, we crashed. Or rather, an oncoming car crashed into us. Right into the passenger side door. I can still see it as if in a movie, like slow motion. The paramedics needed the jaws of life to pry me out of the car. The smell of crumpled metal is something that never leaves you.

I spent the night in the hospital with a fractured hip. I remember at one point being rolled past that awkward boy's room as I was taken in my hospital bed to the x-ray machine. I covered up my head so he wouldn't see me in the condition I was in. I was blind out of one eye from the airbag dust, and dressed in a horrid hospital gown. Later he would tell me how he thought at that moment that I hated him. I would laugh, and explain to him that no, I was just vain.

He felt so bad. He spent the rest of that month, that entire summer, at my bedside.

And that was how we fell in love.

His name was Bill. People in school asked me why I dated him. He wore a trench coat every day; he was labeled as a dork, an outcast. I would shrug my shoulders and think who cares what they think. It doesn't matter, high school. Life after this is what matters, and if we get married, then who cares. I loved Bill so much. It was puppy love to the extreme. I couldn't wait to get out of class so I could see him in the hallways. We spent every second of every day with each other, even when we weren't really with each other. He would write me poetry, and I would in turn write him poetry in answer. We would exchange it between classes.

When your eyes dance in mine
I feel that time would wait for us
and forever would forgive us
just this once
so I would never have to look away.


He wrote that for me and I will never forget it. He was the smartest person I had ever met and I admired him, I loved him, and at the time, I had no idea we would have so much destiny together ahead of us.A month before he left for college we were lying in bed together, locked in each others arms while I cried. I knew that things were never going to be the same. He wasn't going far, he wasn't even leaving home. But I knew.

We dated on and off for five years. During those five years so much happened. He was diagnosed with depression, and put on medication, but for the first two years I stood by his mood swings. In turn, he stood by me as I cheated on him three times. My family always told me I was too young to settle down, and after all the grass is always greener, especially when you are fifteen. Things weren't ever perfect, but I always went back to him. And for those first three years, he kept me out of trouble.

His mother was a raging alcoholic, and because of that he wouldn't permit any form of drinking or drugs. And me being the doting girlfriend, I listened. At least, at first. If only it could have stayed that way forever. I really do blame myself for what happened to us. To what happened to him...little by little I wore him down. My cheating became more to rebel against his wishes then about the men. I wanted to party, I wanted to experiment...eventually, he had to make a choice. It was either join me or leave me, and Bill did love me so much.

My life and Bills life have intertwined so many times that our story sometimes becomes one in the same, so I had to introduce you to him now. I met him six months after my father passed away, and really, Bill shaped me in more ways during that time then any other man in my life to date. Our influence over each other took us to very dark places, but it also took us to heights I never would have imagined. So my story is also Bill's story. I will never love anyone like I loved Bill.

4. Thoughts from the forfront.

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Dear Diary Feb 25, 1997

The police are here. My father is dead. Self inflicted gun shot wound to the head. I didn't even know Dad owned a gun. Turns out he's owned one all my life. I'm laughing at it, it doesn't seem real. He's DEAD. Money is going to be tight now. Will I regret stuff? That I've been mean to him, or that I didn't spend enough time with him? There are cops here, they're talking about telling Grandma. She'll have a heart attack. And all I can think about is the sympathy I'll get. Why didn't anyone ever tell me we owned a gun? Will I have to cancel all my plans? I hope mom doesn't start drinking. Life is going to be so different. He's dead. Mom and Nana are planning the funeral. He's going to be dead in that box...Do you think I'll cry now? I don't feel tears, I'm the most together person here. I can't believe this is happening to ME. Wow...

Later:

I called up a few of my friends, they were shocked, they didn't' know what to say. Nana and Uncle Joe are here, Aunt Lisa and Ted. Its so weird, everyone tries to comfort me, and I don't want it. I feel invisible, no one is listening to me.

What if mom gets remarried? Or if we have to move back to our old town? I feel like everyone is trying hard to act sad, but its only an act. Nana said we might rent out the basement to keep up the money. Mom called Grandma, she was sobbing.

And now, I end a Chapter in my life, ironically, the last page in my diary. Its almost 2 am, and "My heart will go on" by Celine Dione is playing on the radio. Aunt Lisa says she's surprised I'm reacting like this. I've got a good head. Life goes on, my life will at least. I don't think I'll ever cry, maybe one day. This is so selfish of my dad, leaving us like this...Life goes on...

When it happened, I was on boyfriend number two. Juan was a dark skinned boy from my old town who I had met online. He was two years older then me. We had only been dating for about six months. His friends had become my friends, two Asian boys, Pete and Jon. Pete had a crush on me, and it I had fun making Jaun and him compete. I had made a few new friends in the town of Springfield, but nothing as concrete as the friends I had grown up. The friends who had quite recently turned their backs on me. While we were sitting Shiva, while my family was grieving, I was with my boys, with my friends. On the outside, I was always smiling, laughing, I was a typical teenage socialite. I don't know what my family must have thought of me.

Dear Diary, Feb 26 1997

They say Dad was Depressed. Grandma knew, and she had told him to tell mom. He should have been on pills they said. I mean, its over now, but if Grandma had just spoke up. but now I'm looking on the bright side. Mom will have a harder time controlling me, and I'll have more privacy, and maybe mom will get remarried. Maybe the guy will have kids? But now I have a lot of chores, and money is really tight. I'll be home alone now more then usual. Mom, Nana, and Aunt Lisa left somewhere around 10 am, they should be home soon. I told May, she was shocked.

I keep thinking that Pete was talking to my Dad right before he left. I kept telling Pete he was a grump and he only laughed when I told him I wasn't joking. Dad was acting grumpier then usual. I keep thinking how Dad was all uptight about little stuff like the newspaper, and the money. I wonder what was going through his head, he had a daughter and a wife, and parents who almost had a heart attack when they found out. He is really selfish...or was...I have to write was now...I'm just like him, selfish and stubborn. What if I do the same thing one day?

Dear Diary, Feb 27, 1997

The Rabbi just left. They want me to write a poem for Dad. The Rabbi said I was angry and blameful. She said she could feel it. I kept thinking I don't want to talk. I felt like if I said something, I'd cry. The funeral is tomorrow. I have a choice of looking at him. I'm going to cry. I don't want to. I'm scared. If I talk about him, how he was, stuff he did, I think I'll cry. I can't. Stay strong, find it, find the strength, I don't want to cry! This is crazy.

Dear Diary, Feb 28, 1997

I woke up, pulled on my black clothes, and went with Nana, Uncle Joe, and mom to the burial thingy in Maplewood. Pete came first out of all my friends, and then Liz and Susan. They all cried, and then Jon came, shaking again. This was all after we looked at the body. I say, 'the body' because it didn't look like dad. I didn't want to go in with just mom, so I told Nana and Aunt Lisa to come in too. Mom took one look and started sobbing. She spent about five minutes standing over him. I stayed sitting, and comforted mom. When I did take my look, I was repulsed. But a little curiosity brought me back and I looked again. It was so scary. I can't explain it. I saw him, but it wasn't my father. Grandma and Grandpa looked and started crying too. The ceremony was solemn, they read my poem, and Aunt Lisa gave a speech and started crying at the end.

At the end of the funeral, Liz and Susan promised never again would that happen. We'll always talk. Forever. I love Liz.

After it was all over, we slowly drove down the highway in one of those processions of cars that follows a hearse with the head lights on. We got to the cemetery and buried dad.

Prom is coming up soon. Both Pete and Juan want to take me. Why are things so good, when really they are horrible? I have so many great friends, and I have such a wonderful family, even if I deny it. Everyone says I'm going to get sad soon. I am sad, my smile is forced most of the time, and so is my laugh. Life is going to be so different from now on. Its 12:22 am, I'm so tired. Goodnight.