A “first luv” kind of story
This really happened.
“No, that didn’t happen…Really?!”
I was looking at my high school yearbook picture, which, they say, summed up one’s life up to that point. That face, that awkward smile, that dumb haircut — I must say, it wasn’t pretty.
I quickly leafed a few pages to a familiar spot, to the photo of the girl I consider my first love.
She was my classmate. For two years, we sat in the same classes…but we were in different leagues.
While I’ve always hidden from my own mugshot, I’ve been paying regular homage to that particular spot in the yearbook — like an annual pilgrimage or my own 4th of July…without the fireworks.
That silent photo is a time capsule of memories. Some of them, good, some…perfect.
It’s been two decades, but I swear, it was really just yesterday.
I first saw that smile on the very first noisy morning of senior high. There was a general assembly so we were lining up to get inside the gym. I happen to look back and there she was, talking to a friend. I quickly looked away, because…a gentleman never stares.
There was no music, no meet-cute, no butterflies in my stomach. Just a silent “Oh.” But I remembered how her head was leaning a little to the left and how the natural light bathed her cheeks.
Later that day, I learned we were going to have all classes together.
And as fate would have it, I would be seated on the rightmost side of the classroom. Meaning, I hugged the wall. She on, the other hand, was a pond away, on the left-most side of the world.
Clearly, we resided in different spaces, distinct sectors of the classroom. And because we run in different circles, those spaces would rarely overlap. She had her girls, who were all nice and beautiful, while I had my guys, who were nice.
But every once in a while, our orbits would meet. She’d come over and initiate a conversation, out of nowhere. We’d talk about school work, or she’d tease me mercilessly about…something, anything. She’s like that with everybody. She’s friendly that way.
Your boy would be too flustered, too overwhelmed to come up with a witty comeback, much less a sensible line. I’d be sweating what I had for breakfast that day and the tango in my chest would make me light-headed. (For how the heck does one talk to an angel?!)
So I’d extricate myself after a few exchanges, and in the shadows, comfort myself, saying, “Okay, relax, you’re fine. You’re fine. It’s over. You’re fine. She talked to you! Wooohoooo!!!!!”
She was everybody’s favorite person. She was so…perfect.
Here’s this girl, who probably doesn’t understand just how pretty she is, walking around campus with her bright personality, and her sharp mind, and a deadly sense of humor, and I’m dying just looking at her!
She can have all the asthma attacks in the world. (I think asthma because, during those rare moments when I got to interact, I often noticed her catching her breath.)
That certainly did not stop 2 of my friends to have a legit crush on this creature from the heavens. And these guys were bolder. So while I adored her from outer space, they can’t wait to send flight missions her way.
Much like playing “Tree #1” in the school play, I’ve been helping my buddies confess their love. These are your early versions of “promposals” where guys stage romantic gestures to get a gal’s attention. I’ve done serenades, stayed overnight to finish a paper mache, and gave up lunch money to aid in the acquisition of dozens of flowers…all for this girl.
(Looking back, those two were able to remain friends because nobody really got beyond the, “Oh, thank you so much! That so sweet of you!”)
For my part, I was actually pretty proud of being able to keep my feelings from everyone — most especially her.
She had no idea! To her, I was just a classmate who loved looking at floors and ceilings while talking. No intention of declaring my undying admiration. “This girl will never know how I feel.”
In my mind, I was focusing on my education, which was the reason why I came to school early each morning. (Yeah right!)
But life is too kind, and it can unexpectedly drop memories that would be yours forever.
One of those was near the end of senior year. The school would send each senior class on this 1-day retreat. It was an out-of-school affair where you write “Thank You!” letters to parents, ask forgiveness from friends, and “speak from the heart.”
In short, it was a 1-day tissue fest — a mushy, touchy-feely activity run by two bright-eyed facilitators.
By the end of the day, before everybody goes home for the weekend, people were really getting emotional. There was sad music and friends were crying and hugging each other, saying, “Don’t forget to visit…”
People were hugging each other! They were wishing each other well, thanking everyone for the good times shared, the friendship, and the love.
So I was in this maelstrom of hugs where you grab the classmate next to you and hug him/her…for no apparent reason other than them being there.
A lightbulb must have worked somewhere because I found myself going from one hug to another, slowly inching her way. I had the perfect alibi, and she’ll be none the wiser!
I didn’t know if it’s going to work, never planned on this, it was all in the moment. I was simply adjusting my coordinates and putting myself in the way of opportunity, not knowing if I can actually make it happen.
Before long, our orbits got into hugging distance. It was now or never! I had to take my shot, and quickly — before she turns or drifts away.
And so I made the only bold move I made in high school…
I seriously don’t know what came over me, or what spirit took custody of my body, but I grabbed her wrist, pulled her towards me, and gave her the tightest hug!
I can’t believe this stranger was now between my arms, enveloped by me. I can feel her warmth, and in that brief moment, I had a full grasp of my life’s dreams. My heart hummed.
She smelled as you would expect an angel.
She was also stiff and probably stupefied, but I didn’t care.
That was about the first and the last time our bodies met.
In a blur, we graduated, and the only thing left to do was the class farewell party at the house of one of the rich parents. This event was the end of the line for anything related to “high school” and will wrap up that segment of our lives.
I remember it being a sober affair. This was surprising because if there were a group of people who knew how to party, it would be this bunch. But people were well-behaved that night, and talks of college and courses peppered the different tables.
She was radiant, as always. But maybe more radiant that night since it will probably be the last time I will see her. I’m headed north for college and she’ll be staying behind.
I’m good because I got my hug a few weeks back and the memory of that should last me a lifetime.
The party came and went, and her pick-up time was around 9 PM. (This girl was always the first in class to leave these kinds of gatherings because her dad was always eager and early on the pick-up.)
She waved her goodbyes to the whole class, and promises of keeping in touch were given. (This, by the way, was 1999 — MySpace was not even born.)
I smiled at her and she smiled at me and that was that.
High school.
There were just about a dozen of us left milling about the house when one of her best friends, Shelley, pulled me aside and said, “Can we talk?”
We went to the stairwell. I sat on one of the steps, wondering what it was all about. She stood in front of me.
Then she asked, “What do you think of Annie?”
“Who? Annie? She’s nice. Why?”
“Yeah, I know. But I mean, do you like her?”
“Annie? Of course, who wouldn’t like your friend, she’s…”
“I know, I know, but what do you think of her? I mean, do you liiike her?”
I became silent at this point because I felt like I was slowly being led to slaughter. I’ve hidden my truth for two years, since that first week of classes, and I was so careful not to be known, not when I’ve just crossed the finish line.
Shelley must have been uncomfortable with my silence because she then said:
“Did you know that Annie has a thing for you? A big one. This whole time. You didn’t notice? For the past two years, all this girl could talk about was you. She’d ask us if we knew if you liked somebody. She’d bug me and the girls for help, so one morning we just locked both of you in the classroom. Remember?!”
“Oh…”
This girl would steal your calculator and return it with stickers…and you didn’t know?!”
“No…”
