In my own past, so-called love affairs were always one sided…either my love out weighed there’s and I turned out to be the fool, my heart broken, because they dropped me like so many before, or my feelings were, well, flippant, using the relationship wholly for my pleasure before losing interest and moving on.
“I’d like to be friends but I need space, see you around”…smiling, hoping I’d never see them again.
Then that dreaded phone call arrived ‘Hello….R...”
“Yea, it’s me, what’s up?”
‘Remember Carrie? she was found dead from an over dose of sleeping pills.”
My memory hysterically rolled back in time to the name, Carrie; finding the correct file in my head, my heart rose into my throat, this was the first girl that I had used and disregarded like a heap of garbage, dropped her as if she was nothing, used her for one thing and one thing only, and felt zero remorse.
As a personal defence: “I’m really sorry, she was a nice girl.”
R, don’t you get it? She left a note for Christ sake. Do you know what it said?”
It was at that precise moment that my head began to pound, all the signs of an approaching stroke or cardiac arrest...
“Sorry man, but she killed herself because of YOU. She wrote a suicide note, blaming you for killing herself. Just a friendly call to warn you, man, see ya, try to be cool.”
I remember the time exactly, 9:30 p.m., and walking my new apartment floor like a maniac; I must have travelled 800 k's that night, not really knowing what to feel.
I tried to re-live our encounter. She was in Year 10, and I was about to graduate. Even though accepted by good universities, the family could not afford the fees, thus working was the only alternative.
I was terrible at basketball, too small for football and preferred to grow my hair long, play guitar and go to Rock concerts. To pay full fees was out of the question. A good friend of mine was in the same boat and suggested we go to Mexico and get on a construction crew.
“Listen, R, the job is a shoe-in, just act like you know what you're doing.”
We drove from Seattle down to Mexico, found a cheap hotel and ended up paying only $10 a week. It was in the middle of the desert; no one spoke English or admitted to, anyway, our summer of hard work began.
This is another story.
After the graduation ceremony on that very strange night, the Lincoln High School elite contingent of Jocks & Cheerleaders took over at the usual party spot, so we drove to our own camp, a secret, beautiful spot with acquaintances and old friends.
From my unreliable memory, it was a good time.
My best friend, Dave, drove me home. I remember it being a hot and humid night, unusual for Seattle at that time of year. Deanna looked at me, (Dave’s girlfriend, stared into my eyes like she wanted to tell me something ;) she gave me a great kiss on the cheek, "happy graduation!" she said.
The house, as usual was dark, people were asleep or no one was home, at that time, who could tell?
My bedroom was situated at the far end of the house. My key for the back door worked, entering, I recall feeling extremely tired; Sam, my cat, greeted me and jumped for joy at my arrival. I kissed the little guy; made sure his food & water bowl were full and duly went to bed.
Falling to sleep, suddenly my eyes opened, someone was in my bed, kissing aspects of my body that are guaranteed for a response. I remember feeling the naked body being very soft, however as I came to consciousness, I jerked in a slight panic, she said,
“Be still or I’ll stop!”
“Who in the hell are you?”
Sitting up, she pushed my head down with force, intent on her ‘own’ goal for the evening.
"Carrie, now keep quiet."
Nature, without doubt, usually goes its own way, and the inevitable does and always arrives with a bang, no matter how hard you fight it. Like a true fool, fell almost instantly asleep, feeling her warm, naked body curled into mine.
Morning arrived with Sam, my little mate, licking my face, intent on breakfast.
Carrie was gone, out the window I surmised, the same way she had entered the premises.
I was due to leave for Mexico in a few days, the phone would ring, but I would not answer it for fear of something…I didn't want to talk to her, it just felt too strange and a little nutty, like the movie, Fatal Attraction.
I found out a few days before leaving that she had been following me, trying to find out if I had someone else. I was glad to leave town.
I left for Mexico and did not look back…
A good three months passed, without strange women, stalkers, jocks, fathers/mothers and the leisure of a student's life…I felt healthy, wealthy and ready for anything. I looked tanned, sun blond and muscular, and when going into a club, it looked as though all the girls loved me…man was I full of myself!
As my father and I discussed, I saved money enough for a term at University. The deal was 50/50 and I had my half; I would begin first term.
Returning to Seattle after living in a Mexican town was a bit of a shock. Let’s face it, I somehow grew into an adult from a stupid kid in that community, even learning conversational Spanish, I felt accepted; now I had returned, the ‘crap’ came rolling back like a landslide… though feelings of irresponsible freedom prevailed. I didn't really grow up, though maybe I did, but going home put my maturity in reverse.
After that summer in Mexicao ended, everything in my life started to go wrong, my parents divorced, my mother left the country and dad moved to L.A., leaving me in Seattle to fend for myself. University would have to be put on hold.
Feeling depressed, decided to make the phone call as I hadn't been with anyone for quite sometime.
“How are things?”
“Is this really R?"
Really wanting to get to the point of my intended task and outcome, stated:
“I’ll pick you up, and maybe we can 'talk'.”
“Sure.”
We made love in my car, more to the point, had sex and I dropped her off, feeling satisfied and smug.
"Call me?" her face expressing hope.
"Yea, sure, not a problem." I never even considered calling her back. I got what I wanted, so later sweetheart. Anyway, the next day I was flying out to L.A. to live with my father for a while, but she didn't need to know that.
I never set eyes on her again. But received a disturbing phone call that I knew would come eventually…one that I would think and worry about for a long time…
“Yes, this is 'R'.
“Is this really the man that used my daughter? My daughter who loved you more than her family, her mother and then threw her away?!”
“Who is this?”
“You know exactly who it is…you missed her funeral, you son of a bitch! How dare you deny responsibility for my daughter’s death? You used her and threw her away, then came back like some big stud; killing her…you're a bastard!”
“I didn’t know she loved me that much…”
“Please spare me, I swear, if I ever see you I’ll kill you, do you understand you bastard!?”
She hung up, leaving me to my thoughts of guilt and confusion.
My 'relationship' with Carrie consisted of two encounters one instigated by her and the other by yours truly. I left Seattle that weekend, on the plane, gazing out the window at those white clouds... Only much later did I finally realize that she loved someone else, an image of a perfect love; Carrie was in love with the 'ideal' of love and subsequently projected this 'love' onto me. She had an extended love affair with me inside her own head fuelled by her imagination. There was no true reality in this affair despite two encounters, I was the 'object' of this 'ideal' love, and consequently blamed for her broken heart.
Well, this is what I tried to convince myself was the case.
Love is a mysterious thing, a force or feeling that if true, could rule the galaxies, a drive that brings us to die for our children, be with our friends, a desire to be with those we care for the most; a energy so strong, it can drive us to the grand heights of happiness and to the depths of self destruction.
My thoughts are with her from time to time, the memory of her sneaking through my window as a 17 year old child and me, 18, and acting like it really didn’t matter, is a fading memory, but is in my memory nevertheless.
Let's face it, we were children.
“I’d like to be friends but I need space, see you around”…smiling, hoping I’d never see them again.
Then that dreaded phone call arrived ‘Hello….R...”
“Yea, it’s me, what’s up?”
‘Remember Carrie? she was found dead from an over dose of sleeping pills.”
My memory hysterically rolled back in time to the name, Carrie; finding the correct file in my head, my heart rose into my throat, this was the first girl that I had used and disregarded like a heap of garbage, dropped her as if she was nothing, used her for one thing and one thing only, and felt zero remorse.
As a personal defence: “I’m really sorry, she was a nice girl.”
R, don’t you get it? She left a note for Christ sake. Do you know what it said?”
It was at that precise moment that my head began to pound, all the signs of an approaching stroke or cardiac arrest...
“Sorry man, but she killed herself because of YOU. She wrote a suicide note, blaming you for killing herself. Just a friendly call to warn you, man, see ya, try to be cool.”
I remember the time exactly, 9:30 p.m., and walking my new apartment floor like a maniac; I must have travelled 800 k's that night, not really knowing what to feel.
I tried to re-live our encounter. She was in Year 10, and I was about to graduate. Even though accepted by good universities, the family could not afford the fees, thus working was the only alternative.
I was terrible at basketball, too small for football and preferred to grow my hair long, play guitar and go to Rock concerts. To pay full fees was out of the question. A good friend of mine was in the same boat and suggested we go to Mexico and get on a construction crew.
“Listen, R, the job is a shoe-in, just act like you know what you're doing.”
We drove from Seattle down to Mexico, found a cheap hotel and ended up paying only $10 a week. It was in the middle of the desert; no one spoke English or admitted to, anyway, our summer of hard work began.
This is another story.
After the graduation ceremony on that very strange night, the Lincoln High School elite contingent of Jocks & Cheerleaders took over at the usual party spot, so we drove to our own camp, a secret, beautiful spot with acquaintances and old friends.
From my unreliable memory, it was a good time.
My best friend, Dave, drove me home. I remember it being a hot and humid night, unusual for Seattle at that time of year. Deanna looked at me, (Dave’s girlfriend, stared into my eyes like she wanted to tell me something ;) she gave me a great kiss on the cheek, "happy graduation!" she said.
The house, as usual was dark, people were asleep or no one was home, at that time, who could tell?
My bedroom was situated at the far end of the house. My key for the back door worked, entering, I recall feeling extremely tired; Sam, my cat, greeted me and jumped for joy at my arrival. I kissed the little guy; made sure his food & water bowl were full and duly went to bed.
Falling to sleep, suddenly my eyes opened, someone was in my bed, kissing aspects of my body that are guaranteed for a response. I remember feeling the naked body being very soft, however as I came to consciousness, I jerked in a slight panic, she said,
“Be still or I’ll stop!”
“Who in the hell are you?”
Sitting up, she pushed my head down with force, intent on her ‘own’ goal for the evening.
"Carrie, now keep quiet."
Nature, without doubt, usually goes its own way, and the inevitable does and always arrives with a bang, no matter how hard you fight it. Like a true fool, fell almost instantly asleep, feeling her warm, naked body curled into mine.
Morning arrived with Sam, my little mate, licking my face, intent on breakfast.
Carrie was gone, out the window I surmised, the same way she had entered the premises.
I was due to leave for Mexico in a few days, the phone would ring, but I would not answer it for fear of something…I didn't want to talk to her, it just felt too strange and a little nutty, like the movie, Fatal Attraction.
I found out a few days before leaving that she had been following me, trying to find out if I had someone else. I was glad to leave town.
I left for Mexico and did not look back…
A good three months passed, without strange women, stalkers, jocks, fathers/mothers and the leisure of a student's life…I felt healthy, wealthy and ready for anything. I looked tanned, sun blond and muscular, and when going into a club, it looked as though all the girls loved me…man was I full of myself!
As my father and I discussed, I saved money enough for a term at University. The deal was 50/50 and I had my half; I would begin first term.
Returning to Seattle after living in a Mexican town was a bit of a shock. Let’s face it, I somehow grew into an adult from a stupid kid in that community, even learning conversational Spanish, I felt accepted; now I had returned, the ‘crap’ came rolling back like a landslide… though feelings of irresponsible freedom prevailed. I didn't really grow up, though maybe I did, but going home put my maturity in reverse.
After that summer in Mexicao ended, everything in my life started to go wrong, my parents divorced, my mother left the country and dad moved to L.A., leaving me in Seattle to fend for myself. University would have to be put on hold.
Feeling depressed, decided to make the phone call as I hadn't been with anyone for quite sometime.
“How are things?”
“Is this really R?"
Really wanting to get to the point of my intended task and outcome, stated:
“I’ll pick you up, and maybe we can 'talk'.”
“Sure.”
We made love in my car, more to the point, had sex and I dropped her off, feeling satisfied and smug.
"Call me?" her face expressing hope.
"Yea, sure, not a problem." I never even considered calling her back. I got what I wanted, so later sweetheart. Anyway, the next day I was flying out to L.A. to live with my father for a while, but she didn't need to know that.
I never set eyes on her again. But received a disturbing phone call that I knew would come eventually…one that I would think and worry about for a long time…
“Yes, this is 'R'.
“Is this really the man that used my daughter? My daughter who loved you more than her family, her mother and then threw her away?!”
“Who is this?”
“You know exactly who it is…you missed her funeral, you son of a bitch! How dare you deny responsibility for my daughter’s death? You used her and threw her away, then came back like some big stud; killing her…you're a bastard!”
“I didn’t know she loved me that much…”
“Please spare me, I swear, if I ever see you I’ll kill you, do you understand you bastard!?”
She hung up, leaving me to my thoughts of guilt and confusion.
My 'relationship' with Carrie consisted of two encounters one instigated by her and the other by yours truly. I left Seattle that weekend, on the plane, gazing out the window at those white clouds... Only much later did I finally realize that she loved someone else, an image of a perfect love; Carrie was in love with the 'ideal' of love and subsequently projected this 'love' onto me. She had an extended love affair with me inside her own head fuelled by her imagination. There was no true reality in this affair despite two encounters, I was the 'object' of this 'ideal' love, and consequently blamed for her broken heart.
Well, this is what I tried to convince myself was the case.
Love is a mysterious thing, a force or feeling that if true, could rule the galaxies, a drive that brings us to die for our children, be with our friends, a desire to be with those we care for the most; a energy so strong, it can drive us to the grand heights of happiness and to the depths of self destruction.
My thoughts are with her from time to time, the memory of her sneaking through my window as a 17 year old child and me, 18, and acting like it really didn’t matter, is a fading memory, but is in my memory nevertheless.
Let's face it, we were children.
1 comment:
An excellent "soul searching" story. Well written and certainly holds one's interest until the last word.
Remember, " Love Will Keep Us Together".
Take care of yourself.
Kitten
Post a Comment