Memories and Regrets (standard:non fiction, 2777 words) [1/5] show all parts
Author: Maya	Updated: Apr 22 2001	Views/Reads: 3765/2427	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

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Don’t get me wrong, I had lots of friends – I thought.  As it turns out,
a lot of the friends I had were friends of my brothers.  They just 
tolerated me – maybe a little more than tolerated, but the same 
difference – because I was around my brother so much.  Once my brother 
graduated that was it.  I hardly saw any of them again.  I thought I 
was one of the group.  In retrospect, I was probably a groupie, not 
actually part of the group. 

I’m getting a little ahead of myself.  The gist of what I’m trying to
say is that I was, for all intents and purposes, part of a clique.  The 
clique tolerated me and more or less made me feel a part of something.  
It probably helped get me through high school with a certain amount of 
self respect and sense of belonging.  A teenager who is going through 
teenage trials and tribulation (not to mention puberty), especially one 
that is different, needs to feel part of everyone else – needs to 
belong.  I guess I was lucky.  When I needed it the most, I had that 
feeling.  Even if it wasn’t completely real.  I held my emotions 
captive – afraid that I’d say or do or feel something that would offend 
someone.  I chose to mute my feelings rather than to loose what I 
thought I was lucky to have.  I thought that maybe my friends were just 
doing a good deed for the poor little fat girl by being nice to me.  I 
didn’t want to know the truth.  Sometimes ignorance is bliss. 

Anyway, back to my story.  Curtis (he was Curt to me then and probably
always will be) and I became friends however that happens, it happened. 
 If I believed in Fate or God I’d say I was smiled upon and that his 
friendship was given to me as a gift.  I don’t necessarily believe in 
God or Fate, but I do believe in Santa, so maybe it was an early 
Christmas present.  The evolution of friendship is a mystery.  It just 
happens, if you’re lucky. 

I don’t know what it was that drew me to him . It was not a crush, it
was a real friendship.  I didn’t realize it was anything other than 
that until I saw him holding hands with his “girlfriend” walking across 
campus in front of the ROTC room.  (Oh by the way, he was wearing that 
sexy sweater...sigh.)  I liked his girlfriend fine.  She wasn’t really, 
particularly special, but she wasn’t the demon herself or anything.  I 
just didn’t want to see my Curt holding hands with anyone else.  Did I 
say “My Curt”.  This was a little bit of a shocker.  I recognized 
jealousy, but I didn’t think I should have been jealous.  After all, we 
were just friends...right? 

Sure. Right. 

I did what I usually did when I felt these feelings.  I ignored them.  I
pretended it didn’t matter to me.  I didn’t deserve to feel these 
feelings anyway.  They would just turn around and bite me in the ass 
later, so why bother.  I was me.  I didn’t need anyone else.  I didn’t 
want anyone else.  I couldn’t be developing a crush.  Curt was my best 
friend – even if he didn’t know it.  I would not jeopardize that.  He 
meant too much to me.  I would not think of him that way. 

Sure.  Right. 

In reality, I think I was developing a crush mostly because I thought he
liked me for me.  He was a friend I made myself.  One that had little 
or nothing to do with my brother.  This was most unusual.  Of course I 
was not going to tell Curt I had a crush on him.  He meant more to me 
than that.  I didn’t want to loose him.  So I would spend whatever time 
I could with him.  Talking to him.  Helping him with our ROTC stuff.  
He was in charge of the Supply room for our NJROTC class.  This gave me 
lots and lots of time to help him in the supply room or just hang out 
there.  It could be a pretty big mess sometimes, but inventory and 
things had to be done.  “Oh the times we had in the Supply Room.”  This 
was an inside joke we kind of had for awhile.  We could just sit in 
there and talk.  I was in heaven and heaven was a supply room.  I 
remember talking about how to respectfully dispose of an old State flag 
that was past it’s prime.  I think he took it home and disposed of it.  
I remember just talking about high school stuff.  We’d do a little 
gossiping, a little griping (maybe a little more than a little), and 
some complaining about school, ROTC, a particular person who was 
driving us nuts, politics (as far as we understood them at that age), 
whatever.  You know, the normal high school discussions.  When you’re 
in high school your world is very small.  You only have so much to 
discuss.  It was great!  I remember Curt got a hold of a button making 
machine and made us some Ronald Reagan buttons. (Hey, what did we 
know.)  He got the pictures from a magazine that was floating around.  
I had mine for a long time after I graduated.  I don’t know what 
eventually happened to them.  He had opinions.  That’s for sure.  
Headstrong and stubborn. 

We also both belonged to an NJROTC Drill Team.  This gave me even more
opportunity to get to know him.  We had practice after school.  We had 
drill meets.  Some of the meets were overnight trips.  Those were so 
much fun.  Even the bus/van trips were a lot of fun.  Some of my 
fondest high school memories were of those trips.  I hated sleeping on 
the hard gym floors, but that was all part of the adventure.   I was 
only a teenager – a sheltered one at that.  This was pretty adventurous 
for me. 

We became friends.  It’s as simple as that.  We spent time together, but
usually with our group.  I think our group of friends knew that we were 
pretty close.  At least in my 15 year old memory we were close.  Were 
we really,?  I can’t say.  Memories fade and change.  The good times 
are remembered, but the may be embellished.  The bad times are 
hopefully forgotten.  All I know is that I choose to remember that we 
were known around school as good friends.  We each had other friends.  
Some that were in our “group” some that weren’t.  I don’t mean to say 
we spent all our free time together.  Far from it, but we were good 
friends.  We’d talk on the phone occasionally.  My brother and I would 
pick him up in the morning and he’d go to school with us.  We (when I 
say “we” I mean five or six of us sometimes more) would hang out before 
school and after school. 

I remember one time he had been to a meeting (Boy Scouts – I think) that
was held at his church just down the road from where we lived.  
Something happened at that meeting that really upset Curt.  I can’t 
remember exactly what it was, but it was enough to make him walk out 
and come to my house.  I had already gone to bed even though it was 
early. When my mom called up to me and told me he was there I thought 
something must be wrong.  When I saw him, I knew something was wrong.  
He looked...sad...I guess – maybe a little pissed-off.  He really 
worried me.  We talked for a little while.  It sucks that I can’t 
remember what upset him so much.  Maybe he didn’t really go into 
details with me.  I feel bad that his memory means so much to me, but I 
can’t remember what upset him.  I do remember that I related something 
that happened to me while I was Honored Queen in Job’s Daughters that 
had really upset me.  It caused me to quit.  I’ve dwelt over it for a 
long time and am not going to go there again, but basically I was 
treated badly for no cause at an Honored Queen installation.  I left 
the meeting before it even started, and I never went back.  I was very 
hurt.   I don’t know if that helped or not, but I was glad he came to 
see me.  Yeah, I know I was the closest person at the time, where else 
was he going to go, but I’d like to think it was because he thought I 
was a friend and maybe he needed one.  I wish I could have done more. 

We had some really fun times, too.  We had drivers ed together – purely
coincidental as far as I know.  It just worked out that way, I think.  
Anyway, I had always thought that he was at least a year younger than 
me.  He just looked quite a bit younger than he was.  He proved to me 
that he was actually older than I was.  He showed me his learners 
permit and there it was.  He was 2 ½ months older than I was.  Ever 
since finding out his birthday, I have never forgotten it.  To this day 
I remember his birthday.  Partly because it falls on a recognized day 
of the year.  Partly because I just didn’t want to forget. 

The funny part of drivers ed was that we were in it with his
ex-girlfriend (you know the one I saw him holding hands with while 
walking across the campus when he was wearing... that....  sexy..... 
sweater... Oh, uh hum. . . . but I digress. – Hey, just friends or not, 
I know sexy when I see it.).  They weren’t going out anymore and as far 
as I could tell, while he didn’t hate her, he didn’t appear to have 
much feeling for her one way or another.  Worked for me.  Drivers ed 
was fun.  Of course it was.  Isn’t drivers ed usually fun?  We got some 
car time in together, too.  Some of it after school if I am remembering 
correctly.  I even remember him running a stop sign one time. I am sure 
it happened, but I’ll bet he’d deny it.  Anyway, it was just fun having 
him in a class with me for a change. Because we were in different 
grades, that didn’t usually happen.  I think he got his drivers license 
before me because I remember him taking me home a few times.  This 
might just have been because I had an older brother that probably had 
the car and no time to wait for me.  Anyway, it was a fun time. 

There were lots of good times.  We were friends.  Sometimes my mind
tries to tell me that maybe I read more into our relationship than was 
actually there.  Maybe I do, but like I said, I choose to believe we 
were good friends.  I know we were. 

Then came our State drill meet.  The final drill meet of the year.  This
was after I’d known him for almost a year.  It’s all sort of one big 
blur.  I’m not sure what order a lot of things happened in, but I know 
this is when things changed – BIG TIME.  This is one part of my story 
that I will regret for the rest of my life. 


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