First Love

I sat out on my back porch watching my children play with the little girl next door. I felt happy, I had just moved back into the neighborhood were I grew up in, and being back in a place where I had a lot of happy times in surround me in a cloud of joy. My children and I had just gotten back from a walk were I had showed them the house that I lived in and the house of my best friend when I was young. We played in the park were my friends and I had sat, then only having a picnic bench where now stood a big play fire engine, and talked about what we'd do when we grew up and how we couldn't wait to get out from under our parents' hands.

Now sitting on the porch I started thinking about my best friend, and how much I missed him. I had met him when I was in the 6th grade, him and my sister in the 5th, though he was the same age as me. We all hit it off quickly, since there were no other kids on our block. We became fast friends, spending all our waking time together and he was even aloud to stay over night if we wanted him too.

Those were good times, walking down to the park, going for a swim at the local public pool, playing basketball, tennis, or any other game we could think of, or just sitting in the cooled air of the house watching movies.

We watched each other grow-up and yes with watching each other change there were some "hands-on" experimentations on how each other were growing, especially between him and I. Nothing too dramatic but enough to get each other¡¦s minds reeling on what "other" things could be like. In all, he was my first love, puppy love, my Mom and Grandmother called it, but love none the less in the heart of a growing girl.

As we grew up we became a little more distant. Liking different things, and having other crushes on other people, though each time there was a different "love interest" between us we'd feel a little jealous of the new girl or boy.

He became a jock, getting into basketball, football, and track in high school. I had run track for a little while but broke my ankle while taking a run around the school. Yes, I broke my ankle running! I am the clumsiest person on earth, walls cringe when they see me coming. After my short fascination with the sports of high school I started hanging out with the "bad crowd." The people I hung out with smoked, drank, skipped school, and did drugs. Though, honestly, the only thing I did was smoke and skip school. I hadn't yet gotten the taste for alcohol and I've never picked up the habit of doing drugs. We'd still talk to each other, but the days of hanging out were over with. We had our own lives; we both had cars, and were never at home anymore to do any sort of hanging out anyway. But I still felt love for him.

When I had my first real boyfriend he came back around. Mopping and pledging loves to me that he'd never done before. I declined all of his words, telling him that he had had his chance with me a long time ago and I got tired of waiting for him. This distanced our relationship even further, though he never got tired of coming over and interfering with the privacy of my boyfriend and me. Nor did he ever miss the chance to tell me that he still loved me, and he'd wait for me. He also tried to take back up the experimentations of our earlier years, and though I'd let him get so far, I'd stop him when I felt it was enough, I've never denied the fact that I am probably the biggest tease this side of the Mississippi.

To damage our relationship further, I announced the fact that I was engaged to my boyfriend. This was all he could handle, and though I'd see him every now and again outside in his front yard, he quit coming across the street. I was broken, though I knew I had brought it on myself, but my heart finally broke and the realization that I had lost him forever set in.

I was married, and a year later gave birth to my first child. When she was two months old I brought her over to his house so that his mother could see the new baby. He was happy to see me, hugging me before I could put the baby, who was in a car seat, down and he held my hand the whole time I was there. I saw him and his mother a couple of times afterwards; always making sure that his mom was there when I went over there. For some reason I felt uncomfortable in his presence.

Pat announced to me that they were moving back down to Georgia and I was saddened. I told her that I must have her new address and phone number and I'd give her mine so that we could stay in touch. We made plans to meet each other the following week in order to exchange everything, and as I was leaving my friend gave me the longest hug he had yet, as though we'd never see each other after this.

The following Tuesday, the day I had planned to see Pat again, I called before leaving for her house. Just to make sure that she was there, I'm very anal about things like that. Unfortunately she was not. I left a message on her machine, thinking that she might have had to go to work earlier than she usually did. On the message I left my number and told her to call me so that I could come out and see her. She never called, and I left two or three more messages on the machine. That weekend I decided to drive by her house, to see if she was there. I was really trying to catch her before they moved, but pulling up in the drive I noticed that her outdoor furniture had been replaced by someone else's, they were gone.

I sat staring at the house for a long time, tears swelling in my eyes as I realized that I would never see them again. A week later I wrote a letter to them, figuring that they had to have put in a change of address, it's one of the major rules of moving, but the letter was returned. I had lost Kevin for the second time, and this time it hurt worse.

I went about my regular routines for five years. Had another baby, moved a couple of times, and then bought my first house two months ago, again in the neighborhood I had grown up in. I'd never forgotten about Kevin, he'd cross my mind about a zillion times a day, and more so if there was a song on the radio that we use to jam to growing up. Especial when, by chance, or by someone requesting the song on the lunch hour of the radio station I normally listen to, Mr. Big's, To Be With You, comes on the radio. Yes, I grew up in the time of Hair Bands, lucky me. He dedicated that song to me, and sang it to me one time while we sat in my basement, hanging out, smoking cigarettes, and doing other things that we weren't suppose to be doing. The song has always made me smile, and the picture of him sitting beside me, holding my hand, singing the song always sticks in my mind.

I sat thinking about all these things and some others, which would probably bore you if I was to write them down here, and make me veer from the story that I'm trying to tell, when the phone rang. I picked it up, looking at the caller ID before answering it, and saw that it was my sister.

"Hello."

"Hi!"

"Whatcha doing?"

"Not much getting ready for work but I had to call you."

"Why? What¡¦s going on?"

"You'll never guess who I found. Go on take a guess."

"Niki, you know I hate guessing. Just tell me."

"Okay fine. I found Kevin."

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did!"

There was a pause here in the conversation while she yelled at her boys to be quiet and be good. I felt my heart drop into my stomach. I was nervous and excited all at the same time. Odd feeling really.

"K. Sorry." "It's alright." "Well, anyway. I found Kevin man I'm serious"¨

"How'd you find him?"

"This guy I work with knows him. And we started talking about what high school and shit we went to and he asked me what year I graduated and I told him '98 and he said you know Kevin, tall red hair, and all that. I said yes and he said that he was a friend of his."

"Where's he at?"

"You'll never believe it."

"C'mon just tell me!"

"On our old street."

"Fuck no!"

"Yeah man! He lives in the house to the right of his old house."

"You gotta be kiddin me! Hell he's only a couple of blocks from me then."

"I know ain't that something!"

"That's more than something. It's down right ridiculous!"

"I know! But anyway, he's got two kids and is about to get married, and I have his phone number."

"When you gonna call him?"

"Tonight."

My mind reeled with the decisions to either get his number from my sister or have her give him my number when she talked to him. I decided on the latter.

"Give him my number."

"I will."

There was another pause as she yelled at her kids again.

"Hey, anyhow, I gotta finish getting ready for work. Just had to tell you."

"Well it's just wonderful. I'll talk to you later then."

"Alright. Bye."

"Bye."

I pushed the button on the phone to make it hang up and I just sat there staring into space. I heard my name being called and wondered how long my neighbor had been calling me as I was zoning out from the pure excitement of the news I'd just received. I shook my head and got up. Going over to the fence, I greeted my neighbor, and listened to her talk on and on about a big storm that was heading our way. There had already been nine tornadoes in the Metro area and it had left all of us a little nervous. I politely talked to her, voicing my concerns for family members and friends that had been in the path of the other tornadoes, all the while having my mind set on the fact that Kevin lived just up the street. I watched her bring her cigarette up to her lips while we were talking. I had quit smoking recently, but the cravings and desires for a cigarette still wrapped my body in their harsh hands. I needed one now really bad. I asked her for one, and she gladly handed it to me.

After lighting it, I told her of the news I had received and then as she went on about how great it was I pondered the fact that the cigarette I was smoking had made me dizzy and had made my chest close up. I took one more drag off of it and then flung it out in the yard. Feeling bad for wasting her cigarette but thinking at the same time how odd it was that after smoking for so many years how one cigarette after a couple of months could make me feel so crappy. While I was thinking about this my neighbor had changed the subject back to the storms, and as I nodded and smiled politely I thought up some excuse to get away from her.

I went into the house and fiddled around some in the kitchen. My mind was a big jumbled mess and I couldn't concentrate on anything. I sighed deeply and tried to center myself. I was bored but still excited, another odd feeling, and since I had just ended the semester of school I had no homework to do so that I could center my mind. I picked up the book that I had been reading and sat on the couch. I read it for a while, and it seemed to help ease my mind. I looked up at the clock and saw that it was about time to start dinner, another thing that would require my full attention and so I jumped on it.

As I was preparing a butter sauce to baste the cornish hens in that I was preparing for dinner the phone rang again. I figured that it was probably my husband calling to avoid work in his last half hour of being there but the number was unfamiliar on the caller ID, and it didn't produce a name at the bottom of it, as it normally did. I figured that it was the wrong number and answered, ready to apologize for them calling the wrong number. That's a funny thing we do when someone else calls you instead of the person they meant to. I've never quite understood why when someone calls the wrong number, we of the wrong person they called must say, "I'm sorry, you've dialed the wrong number." Why must we be the one to apologize? Hardly ever does the person, who has dialed the wrong number, say "Oh I'm sorry wrong number." Most of the time they just hang up or want to argue with you that it was the number they had been given. But I guess its proper phone etiquette for the person who was pulled away from what they were doing to answer a wrong number call to apologize for the other person in being too dumb to dial the right number. Further more it must be proper etiquette for the person who dialed the wrong number to be baffled and want to argue the fact with you that they had the right number, just the wrong person answered. But I digress.

I answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Jessi?"

"Yes."

"Hi it's me, Kevin."

A lump came to my throat. I stood there, my mouth open, trying to form words. But I had forgotten how to speak for a moment. I was glad that he wasn¡¦t standing right in front of me, while I looked like a fish out of water trying to form coherent thoughts. Finally, the lump left and my brain began to function properly again.

"Hi! How are you?"

"I'm fine. So, Niki tells me you live down the street from me."

"I do." I noticed that my brain, though working better, was still having a hard time forming more than just short little sentences.

"That's crazy. Isn't it?"

"Yeah it is."

"You know what it is don't you?"

"What?"

"Fate." I started laughing. Kevin had always had this thing about fate and how people were destined for certain things and no one could control them.

"You haven't changed much have you?"

"You'd have to see that to make that decision."

"I'd like that."

"I know you would."

The conversation veered off into what we had been doing for so long. Our families and what not. I told him how happy I was that he was close to me again and then there was a pause.

"Jessi?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to have dinner with me this weekend?"

"Of course I would. We aren't doing anything Saturday night."

"Oh I meant just you and me. Then maybe during the week I'll bring my finance and my kids over so that you could meet them, and I can see R.J. again."

"Oh well that's fine too."

"R.J. wouldn't mind?"

I laughed. "No, he wouldn't mind at all. Why would you think that?"

"He didn't like me much ya know."

"I know, but any hard feelings he had for you are long gone."

"Okay. Well, I gotta go now. I'll pick you up on Saturday, say around seven o'clock, and we'll go eat."

"That sounds great. See you then."

Saturday came and I fretted all day on what I was going to wear. Being a typical woman, I pulled blouses, dresses, pants, and skirts out of my closet then put them back thinking to myself that I had nothing to wear. I sat down on the bed, my head in my hands, and talked out loud to myself, "Everything I have is too sexy! I don't want to come off like. Why can't I buy at least one conservative outfit!" I growled at myself, I really think that I had gone temporarily insane. But I was right, all my outfits showed too much. I've always been proud of my body and have always taken measures to show it off at all costs. All my shirts came down low and showed the tops of my D size breasts, or more. All my pants were skin tight, showing off my ass and flat tummy. Most of my skirts were basically like tube tops, stopping just below the butt showing every inch of my toned legs. I went back to the closet and searched some more. There had to be something in there that would be appropriate, I finally settled. I took out a victorian cut blouse and the skirt that went with it. The shirt was white with a beige flower pattern and completely see-through, but I could fix that with the right bra. It fight snuggly over my torso, coming down just below the hips. It had a band that came right under my breasts so when I tied it in the back it enhanced my boobs even more. The skirt that went with it was beige, matching the color of the flowers on the blouse. It also had a snug fit over my hips, ass, and upper thighs, but tapered out at the bottom of the skirt, which stopped just below the knee. I decided since it was very warm outside that I would forego pantyhose and just ware a pair of sandals with the outfit.

I showered and put on the clothes that I had chose and now it was time to fret over my hair. Most of my life I had kept my bright red hair very long, it had rested right above my butt, and had been so easy to fix, just wash, comb, and go. But a couple of months ago I had finally gotten tired of all my hair and had it cut off, right below the ear. It looked good, made my hair look like it had some life in it, but now I had to take the time to fix it. When I had it cut I had many layers put into it, and usually I went with the "fun and messy" look, but with the outfit that look just wasn't going to go very well. I began to stack my hair. Keeping the bangs down and parted in the middle, then curling the back and the sides so they came up over the bangs, this look I'm finding this is very hard to describe, but trust me it looks good. Make-up next, when doing my make-up I have always made my lips my focal point. They are full and pouty, and I go with a dark lipstick in order to bring out the shape of them. But tonight I decided to enhance all my features. Starting with my eyes, they are big and blue, with long thick lashes. I did my eye shadow, liner, and mascara in a way that made my eyes look even bigger and also brought out the cornflower blue more in them. My lipstick I toned down just a bit, still enhancing the shape and fullness of my lips but not as much, so that they were not the full focus of my whole face. After the make-up I put on my perfume, put just a little more hairspray in my hair, and then stared at myself for a long time, till I knew I was completely satisfied. I came out of the bathroom and stood in front of my husband, "How do I look?"

"Beautiful, as always."

"Thank you." I walked into the kitchen and saw that Kevin would be here in about 10 minutes. I have a nervous habit of playing with my fingers, and that was at full speed when I walked back into the living room, and sat on the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know, he didn't say."

"Oh, are you just going to dinner or are you going to a club afterwards?"

"Just dinner I think. I can ask him when he gets here."

"Doesn't matter."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Just wondering when to expect you home."

"Oh, do you want me to come home early? Cause I can if you want."

"I want you to come home early enough to fuck me."

I laughed and shook my head.

"What? Look at you. I'd fuck you right now if I knew you wouldn't say.." And here my husband tries to imamate me. It's the funniest thing in the world. I spent my early childhood in New York, and have that Northeastern accident. Even though I've lived in the Mid-West since the age of 11 the accident has never left. But when my husband tries to talk like me it comes out sounding like a mix between someone from Minnesota and Ireland, somewhere in his imitation he'll through in a "don't you know." I've never said that. "But I can't do it right now. I'm leaving, and if I fucked you right now I'd mess up my make-up and hair. Don't ya know?"

I started laughing, "I don't sound like that! Don't imamate me unless you can do it right!"

"Okay fine. Just remember to get home early!"

"I will, don't worry."

I heard a knock on the door and just about jumped off the couch. My nerves went haywire as I watched R.J. walk to the door and open it. I heard that deep southern voice again and my whole body shook.

"Hi, Kevin. How are ya man?"

"Just fine. How have you been?"

"Good. C'mon in."

He stepped through the door and I stared at him. The weirdest feeling came over me then. As I looked at him he seemed to be a complete stranger to me though I remembered his face so well. I didn't have time to contemplate the way I felt before he came up to me swooped down and took me in his arms. I felt comforted by the familiar feel of his arms wrapped around my body and before he pulled away I planted a kiss on his cheek.

"You look fantastic, Jessi."

"Thank you."

"We should be headin' out.'