The First Love
Find a Conversation
|Thu, 05-04-2000 - 5:38pm|
The First Love
It's been years since I last thought of her. The only thing that I have that reminds me of her face is the picture. It is on some mountain in a place I cannot remember. We are both wearing shorts and teeshirts and we look impossible. We are impossibly young, impossibly happy, impossibly inseperable. But it has been many years.
I close my ears and I hear the phone ring. Nightly we would talk about everything and nothing. Did I see the cool outfit for sale? Is my mom still a total bitch? Is dad going to let us use the car Saturday night?
And then the conversations turned more serious. Do you believe in God? Do you ever want to marry? Can you even imagine having kids?
On and on we talked. We'd do sleepovers. One day at her house. One day at mine. Staying up until we saw the sun wake up from behind the curtain. We would brush each other's hair until our heads gleamed. Yet until I saw the picture I could not remember if hers was brown like mine or not. I had always assumed we were the same.
I close my eyes and I see the hallway. Our high school hallway. Where we walked like queens so sure of ourselves. It seem like it was yesterday and like it was eras ago. When did we lose the self?
In the hallway, she would whisper and pass me notes. One note would say "did you see him? did you see him hit that basket? oh my god!!!" but there were little hearts under each punctuation. We punctuated everything with a heart because it confirmed what was and what was to be forever.
So where did it go? How did a line in a careless note become the focus of her life? How could she leave me for him?
He bought her roses. He got his father's car. Saturdays went from the two of us to the two of them. And then the phone calls became sporadic. When we talked, we talked of him...it was no longer us it was "what do you think of us" and the us was no longer the same.