Memories and Regrets (standard:non fiction, 2777 words) [1/5] show all parts
Author: Maya	Updated: Apr 22 2001	Views/Reads: 3763/2427	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a story that starts during my high school days. The days of crushes and first loves, pain and heartache and ultimately a sense of sorrow and regrets. It’s the only story that means anything. The only story that is worth remembering. The only s

This is a story that starts during my high school days.  The days of
crushes and first loves, pain and heartache and ultimately a sense of 
sorrow and regrets.  It’s the only story that means anything.  The only 
story that is worth remembering.  The only story I can never really 
forget. 

He was sitting at the first row of tables in front of the podium of our
NJROTC classroom. Thin, 5’6”, unruly, slightly curly, brown hair, 
gorgeous full lips, slightly large and yet utterly perfect nose, and 
beautiful brown eyes with a look that could melt my heart and brighten 
my day. His name was Curtis. We hit it off immediately - at least 
that’s how I remember it. It’s been over 15 years since that fateful 
day that probably changed my life – for the better.  I’m not sure of 
the order of events. I’m not sure if I’ve even represented the events 
correctly.  I do know the feelings were real even if the story is 
embellished – just a little. 

I think this was the first day that I really noticed him.  I don’t know
what day it was, but it was a few weeks into my Sophomore year of high 
school.  We were both 15. He was about 2 ½ months older than I was but 
was a year behind me in school.  I was a little younger than most of my 
classmates since my birthday was in September and I just made the 
cut-off date.  I wish I could remember everything about him and about 
every minute we spent together – just talking.  I don’t even know how 
it happened.  I was sitting at the podium before first period class 
(the ROTC room was sort of a hang out place – more of a social club 
than a class).  I think I was ranting or complaining or just spewing my 
personal opinions about something.  I can’t remember.  Not particularly 
talking to anyone.  Curtis just started talking to me.  Sort of 
answering my rhetorical questions.  His voice was unique and calming.  
His voice like his being lifted my spirits.  I liked him.  He had 
opinions that he wasn’t afraid to express and a wonderful sense of 
humor.  To this day, I can still hear his laugh, his chuckle, in my 
heart.  It is an unforgettably warm sound. 

I can’t remember every conversation we had.  I wish I could.  Someone
once said, “People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you 
said, but they will always remember how you made them feel."  EXACTLY! 

I remember stupid things like a coat he had - dark blue and light blue
with red piping. Later he had a dark gray coat. (How nuts is it that I 
can remember this.)  His parents’ white station wagon that he drove 
sometimes.  His sisters’ names.  His middle name.  The fact that he’s 
left handed. (His handwriting was atrocious.)  A poster of this half 
naked woman that he had hanging in his room.  Other things that are 
just silly trivial things.  I also remember a cream colored cable knit 
sweater that made him look so.... umm... sexy... yes, the correct word 
is sexy. 

At age fifteen, I would never have even uttered the word sexy much less
let anyone know that’s what I thought.  I was very naïve. I was also 
very fat.  That’s me short and fat.  Notice that I did not say ugly.  I 
am not a train wreck, but I was not exactly cheerleader material or 
girlfriend material for that matter.  I have dark brown hair and dark 
brown eyes.  I’m 5 feet tall and have been since seventh or eighth 
grade.  I’ve always been fat.  I’ve always been short.  That is just 
part of what makes me, me.  I don’t like it, but it’s me.  I do not 
consider myself ugly.  I like to think that my friends saw me for what 
I was and respected me for what I was.  I guess I wouldn’t have 
considered them friends if they had taunted or teased me.  But I was so 
careful to play my cards close to my vest.  I didn’t want any of my 
friends to think –God forbid- that the fat chick of the group might 
actually “like” them.  I kept my feelings to myself to protect myself.  
I didn’t want to be hurt.  I wanted to keep the friends I had and not 
alienate any of them.  Oh, I had crushes.  I just didn’t tell anyone.  
That’s not entirely true, but if I ever said anything to any of my 
crushes I made sure my heart wasn’t totally into it because I knew my 
heart would be broken.  Everyone around me was coupled with someone.  
Not me.  I was the third, fifth, or seventh wheel.  I went to dances. I 
danced.  I usually had to ask the guys to dance, but I danced.  Very 
few guys turned me down, but come on...I knew who was a nice person.  I 
didn’t ask them if I thought they’d turn me down.  No one asked me out. 
 No one wanted me to be their girlfriend.  I pretended that it didn’t 
matter. 



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