Memoired and Regrets (Part 2) (standard:non fiction, 3019 words) [2/5] show all parts
Author: Maya	Added: Apr 22 2001	Views/Reads: 2944/2123	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a continuing story that starts when I was in high school - it eventually ends in the present.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


I often wondered what would have happened if I had said yes to Mike
right away.  I think I would be a happier person.  Not that I think it 
would have ended in happily ever after.  Please.  This was high school. 
 Maybe it would have let Curt and I stay friends.  Maybe it wouldn’t 
have changed things.   Maybe I’d have fewer regrets.  Maybe I’d have 
more.  Maybe.... 

Things went on more or less normal.  That night our school managed to
get the area right up against the partition in the middle of the gym.  
We staked that area out for sleeping. Our school’s girls on one side of 
the partition, and the boys on the other.  There was this small hole in 
the partition – just a little one.  We’d touch our fingers together 
through this whole.  Not just us.  I think all the girls did this with 
their boyfriends before everyone finally falling asleep.  I did not get 
much sleep that night.  This sucked, too, since the drill meet was the 
next day.  I just didn’t know what I had done.  I should have been 
happy that Curt finally knew how I felt.  I should have been, but I 
wasn’t.  I felt phony.  Things had already changed.  I couldn’t just 
talk to him without it having a deeper meaning.  This sucked.  I wanted 
him back again.  I knew things wouldn’t be the same again and I hated 
myself for it. 

The next morning after another trip to McWhatever we went to the college
that was hosting the meet, and the meet started.  This was an all day 
thing.  There was some free time, but most of that was spent watching 
the other teams or our school’s other teams compete or practicing.  
Have I said we sucked.  We were not the best school.  We almost never 
(if ever) won.  We rarely placed.  At least the Unarmed Drill team 
anyway.  We had some good people on the rifle team, and the Armed team 
wasn’t too bad, but we (the Unarmed Drill team) sort of sucked.  We 
really, tried our best, though.  You had to give us credit for that.  
Besides, win or lose, this was fun.  Anyway, as far as who won, it 
wasn’t us.  I don’t remember specifically who won, but I’d probably 
remember if it had been us. 

Curt and I hung out with everyone else.  This wasn’t unusual or
anything.  It was really uncomfortable, though.  I didn’t know how to 
act now that he was supposed to be “more than just a friend”.  I don’t 
think we ever held hands.  I know we didn’t kiss.  I’d have remembered 
that.  We just were like we always were only much more uncomfortable 
around each other.  Have I said this sucked? 

There was a dance held for all of the schools that were staying that
night after the meet.  The dance was fun.  It really was.  I danced 
with Curt.  Not as much as I’d have liked, but we danced.  I had a 
really good time.  I thought that maybe things would get better now 
that we’d loosened up around each other.  I was pretty happy that 
night.  Did we kiss?  Nope, and that was okay.  It was still fun being 
with him.  It always was.  I was finally normal.  I had a boyfriend.  
Yippee! 

The van trip back was a blast.  Maybe a bigger blast than the trip to
the meet.  It was fun.  There were eight of us in the van (and of 
course our instructor who was driving).  All eight of us were paired 
up.  Of course I was in the van with my brother.  I guess I hung around 
him a lot.  I love my brother.  I looked up to him.  He was good to me. 
 He must not have minded too bad that I was around him a lot,  but it 
might not have been too healthy for me since I didn’t have to really 
experience things “unsheltered” – if you can understand that.  Anyway, 
I got to sit by Curt and it was really nice just being close to him.  I 
was pretty happy.  Still very uncomfortable, and I still knew that I 
had made a big mistake, but I was trying to go with it. 

I remember Curt holding my hand at one point during the trip – not for
very long, but it was still nice.  I pretended to fall asleep while he 
was holding it so I could just enjoy it without feeling uncomfortable.  
I didn’t know how to act.  This was my best friend.  I think it was 
sometime during this trip that the eight of us got to talking about the 
Navy Ball that was coming up.  As I was now Curt’s girlfriend who else 
was he going to ask to go with him.  I can’t help but feel like Curt 
was pressured into both asking me to be his girlfriend and asking me to 
the Ball.  The fact of the matter is that I should have just kept my 
mouth shut or talked directly to Curt.  This middleman and peer 
pressure stuff at the very least was a bad idea.  It wasn’t anyone 
else’s business and it should have stayed that way. 

I was naïve and so sheltered and I so wanted to be “normal” that I think
I choose the one person who I think liked me for me and screwed that up 
by transferring my adolescent beliefs of what and how I was supposed to 
be to him.  After all, girls and boys couldn’t  be just friends, right? 
 Especially not best friends.  It just didn’t happen.  Ha!  Oh, yes it 
does.  I liked him, but I think I was trying to find someone that I 
knew wouldn’t be mean to me if I admitted to a crush on him.  I had a 
good thing.  I had a good friend.  I threw that away because I felt I 
was supposed to have a crush.  I was supposed to like someone.  I was 
supposed to have boyfriend.  That’s what girls my age did, right? 

Sure.  Right. 

I just didn’t want to be the girl who went through school with nothing
but pity dates.  Now I know I’d have rather had a million pity dates or 
none at all than to have lost Curt.  It wasn’t worth it. 

The Ball was fun.  It always was.  Nothing overly special happened, but
I felt like I belonged for a change.  I was there with my boyfriend and 
I didn’t have to ask him to the ball he asked me.  That’s how it was 
supposed to work, right. 

Sure.  Right. 

I won’t go through all of the non-events that happened.  Basically it
was a relationship that never was.  It was a farce.  It was something 
that should never have happened.  We just didn’t feel that way about 
each other.  We finally “broke” up right before the beginning of the 
next school year – not that there was really, anything to break-up.  
This would have been my Junior year and his Sophomore year.  What a 
relief that was.  To me and to him.  No more pretending that we had a 
“thing”.  If it hadn’t ruined a good thing, it would have been 
laughable.  Through all of this there was no kissing, barely any 
touching,  I’m not sure if we ever even hugged.  This wouldn’t have 
been all that unusual either since I was never much of a “touching” 
kind of person – with anyone.  I just didn’t like to be touched.  I 
still don’t. 

I remember writing a few letters during the summer before we broke-up. 
Curt was a camp counselor at a Boy Scout camp (oddly enough, Mike was, 
too).  My letters always dripped of things that a girlfriend was 
supposed to say to a boyfriend.  Except, I was too shy to say most 
things directly so I did a lot of talking in metaphors.  Basically I 
made a pretty big fool out of myself.  I felt like I was pretending.  
Actually, I was.  I still liked to receive letters from Curt, though.  
I still wanted my friend back.  Of course I like to hear from him.  He 
wasn’t the most prolific writer, but I was glad to receive the letters. 
 I couldn’t get past the fact that I felt like I was pretending all the 
way through this.  Not just this, either.  I felt like I was pretending 
all the way through high school.  I don’t know when I ever felt like it 
was okay to just be me.  I guess the only time I felt like I was me was 
during our “times we had in the supply room”.  Even then, I had a wall 
around me.  I couldn’t let anyone too close.  I made sure I didn’t get 
hurt. 

For a while that year things went pretty well.  We did pretty much the
same things we always did.  We hung out in the supply room and the ROTC 
room.  We still had drill team practice and meets.  I was having fun 
with him again.  I almost felt like we went back to how we were before 
“State”.  I was so happy to have Curt back as my friend.  I missed him 
so much when we were “together”.  I know that sounds stupid, but it’s 
true.  Things really couldn’t ever be the same again, though.  I tried 
and tried to remain close.  I wanted him to be my best friend again.  I 
wanted him to trust me.  I think I just made him feel uncomfortable.  I 
got to thinking that maybe I was hovering or smothering him a little to 
much.  I didn’t want him to think I was fawning all over him again.  I 
started to back off a little.  That’s when we started to drift. 

That year my brother and his group of friends graduated.  I was
surprised at how our group fell apart.  Okay, maybe it only fell apart 
for me.  As I said, a lot of my friends were my friends because of my 
brother.  Once he was gone I no longer really had a clique.  I am going 
to take a lot of the blame for this.  I didn’t have to work hard at 
belonging when my brother was around.  When he wasn’t, keeping those 
friends that were still in school was a lot of hard work.  They were 
not really likely to gravitate to me because of my good looks and 
charm.  I should have worked harder at keeping them – including and 
especially Curt.  Instead I went deeper into my shell.  I built my wall 
thicker.  I no longer belonged to the drill team, or ROTC (well, I was 
a TA).  I didn’t go on the trips, and I didn’t go to any dances at all 
that year.  Except one.  I went to another school’s JROTC Marine Corps 
Ball with Mike.  Just as friends.  That was fine.  Nothing was going to 
bother me.  I was impervious to it all. 

Sure.  Right. 

My senior year (1987) sucked.  I missed my brother.  I missed Curt.  I
missed the fun.  I missed the trips.  I missed everything I had for the 
last two years since I met Curt.  I didn’t try hard enough to stay in 
touch with Curt because I was afraid of trying too hard.  That school 
year just happened.  It was school.  The day dawned.  I went to school. 
 The bell rang.  I went home.  I got straight A’s.  I graduated.  Not 
fuss.  No muss.  No tears (well, not for school anyway). 

The years went on.  I moved on.  Curt moved on.  I saw him very little. 
In fact, during the next few years I probably only saw him a handful of 
times.  Each time I saw him I was so nervous.  I know it showed, too.  
He probably thought I was and idiot.  I just didn’t know how to act 
because I didn’t know how to tell him what he meant to me during 
school.  He was the only one that made me feel like I was okay, like I 
was a good person, like I deserved to be respected, like I was just 
like everyone else – not an outcast, not some fat girl that should be 
befriended as a good deed, or pitied, or treated nice because that’s 
what good people do.  It is just not right that someone who made such 
an impact my life should just disappear.  I never had the opportunity 
to tell him that I was never more thankful for anything than I was for 
the friendship he gave me.  I will never regret anything as much as I 
will regret letting him drop out of my life. 

Stay with me.  The story’s not over, yet. 


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