4-Ever
Billy Barnes fell in love with me in fifth grade. He and I had been going together since Valentine’s Day, when he left me a big card on my desk that said “I Heart U.”
My mom told me it was okay to go with Billy as long as we didn’t kiss or anything, so I said yes when he asked me to “go” as we stood behind the swings. Billy had the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen. We sat together at lunch and wrote each other notes in class, and my friend Lori still insists I used to sit on his lap at the bus stop, but I think she’s lying.
Everything was wonderful until Billy started saying “I love you” when I got off the bus, echoed by a trail of fifth-grade giggles. I never said I love you too, and I could tell it annoyed him because soon he started standing in the lunch line with Josh Arnold and Charlie Raker instead of me.
Finally the bubble burst at the end of fifth period one day. We were all standing around getting our books together and waiting for the bell to ring while Mrs. Ballard kept chirping “stay in your seats, stay in your seats!” I was packing up the unicorn folder I’d decorated with such care when I heard Billy and Josh talking (too loudly) at their desks about how I wouldn’t say “I love you.” I looked up from my glitter stickers. Josh saw me listening and leaned his chair back.
“How come you won’t say it, Kay?”
“That’s between Billy and me.”
Lori loyally came over and stood behind me. “Yeah, Josh, mind your own business.”
Then Billy blinked his long eyelashes at me. All the kids were starting to gather around now – Billy and I were the Ben and Jen of fifth grade.
“Why, Kay? Why won’t you say it?”
My mom always said telling the truth was the bravest thing you could do, so I choked down the butterflies and told him. “We can’t be in love, Billy. We’re too young.”
“Who says?”
“My Mom.” That got some laughs, mostly from Josh, Charlie and Darren Pike, who was always cracking his knuckles.
“Love isn’t bound by age,” Josh said, and I wondered if he was quoting Shakespeare. He was always starring in all those youth theatre shows downtown – I kept auditioning, but I never got a part. My mom said I needed to learn how to project my voice, and if I got an A in math, she’d let me take a theatre workshop over the summer.
“Do you always believe everything your mom tells you?” Billy asked.
I hesitated. The answer was yes – I always believed her – why wouldn’t I? But I had a feeling that was the wrong answer, and now I noticed that Lori had taken a couple steps away from me. “No, not everything,” I answered. “I just think we’re too young to be in love, that’s all.”
“Romeo and Juliet weren’t too young,” Josh said. Darn, Shakespeare again. He had me with Romeo and Juliet – you couldn’t argue against that kind of love – the truest love of all. I mean, they even died for each other.
“Just say it, Kay - say I love you,” said Billy.
I said nothing. Everyone shifted their backpacks to the other shoulder. I looked for Mrs. Ballard to save me, but she was up at her desk, fixing her lipstick.
“I can say it – I love you, Kay, I love you, I love you, I love you. How come you can’t say it, huh? Just say it!”
“You don’t even know what love is!” I blurted.
Everyone gasped. This, apparently, was a huge insult. Because of course, anyone with such long lashes knew everything about love. Billy grabbed the closest Webster’s II and threw it down on my desk, flipping the pages to the L section.
“Love,” he read. “Intense affection. A feeling of attraction resulting from sexual desire.” Everyone guffawed as I blushed bright red. I tucked my head, grabbed my bag and shot out the door.
Mrs. Ballard called after me. “Kay, get back to your seat! The bell hasn’t rung yet!” But I kept going. It was the first rebellious act of my life. I walked to the edge of the playground and sat in the grass behind the chipped red swingset – our spot.
When the bell rang, Billy walked out of the classroom surrounded by boys and girls laughing and jostling each other. He didn’t even look over at me. From that day on, Billy was a cool kid and I was in serious danger of becoming the class prude.
Lesson learned. Just say it.
I had a chance to redeem myself at the end of sixth grade when Jake Meyers decided he liked me. I knew this was big – Jake was one of the most popular boys in class – a big step up from Billy. He later achieved greatness when voted “Hottest Guy in 8th Grade.” But in sixth grade, just going together and saying I love you wasn’t enough anymore. Now you had to kiss. For weeks I avoided the issue, “forgetting” to answer Jake’s notes in class: “Will you kiss me? Check one box: x Yes x No”
But finally Lori told me that the subject of “will she or won’t she” had became a daily lunchtime topic amongst the boys in our class, so I knew I had to take a different tack. I was older and wiser and realized the time had come to defy my mom, which meant I would have to kiss Jake. I just wouldn’t tell her – no biggie. Except I cried every night at the thought of lying to my mom.
“It’s not lying,” said Lori, “You’re just not telling her every single tiny thing like usual.”
I decided I needed time to gear up, so I started leaving Jake notes:
“I want to give you a nice surprise.”
“In 5 days I’ll give you your surprise.”
“Meet me at lunch tomorrow behind the dugout for your surprise.”
But when the day came to give Jake his kiss behind the dugout, I couldn’t go through with it. Sometimes when my mom packed my lunch, she’d write a note on the napkin, and on that day, it said: “I love you and I’m so proud of you, honey. You’re such a wonderful daughter.” So instead of giving Jake his kiss, I paid Alison Stone one dollar for her birthday carnation and gave that to Jake instead. At least he was polite enough to say thank you.
The next week my mom left my home perm in too long and Jake got everyone at school to start calling me Popcorn Head. Finally that nickname faded away and got replaced by a new one – Titless. The perm grew out, but my tits never did.
Lesson Learned. Put out.
About eight years later I finally had a chance to put these lessons to good use. I moved to
New York to become a famous actress (not famous, actually – just admired enough to win one Tony award and be a guest on Conan O’Brien). I moved into an Upper West Side apartment with a South Carolina daddy’s girl and a New Jersey stripper, who were there, as I was, to attend the American Academy of Drama and Dance.
On the first day, our “resident advisor” (who did not live in the same residence and only advised me to sleep with him) gave us some roach traps. “Give the extras to the neighbors, yeah? They’re AADD-ies, too.”
So on our way out to our very first New York City school-sponsored ice cream social, we knocked on our unknown neighbor’s door. Some muffled guitar strumming stopped, the door opened, and there stood Hayden.
What was it about Hayden? Maybe it was the guitar in his hand, the tousled hair, or the long-lashed brown eyes, but the three girls outside his door were struck dumb. A cute guy! Next door! And he didn’t seem gay! After a spellbound silence, he raised an eyebrow and I found my voice.
“Hi. We have roach traps.”
Great. Best opening line ever. Hi-we-have-roach-traps. He’ll totally fall in love with me.
“Uh, we live next door,” I added.
“We’re neighbors!” squeaked the daddy’s girl. “I’m Jodie.”
“And I’m Corinna,” said the stripper.
“I’m Hayden,” said Hayden. He looked at me.
“Oh, hi, sorry, I’m Kay. The guy, um, the resident advisor guy, he said to give you these,” I said, handing over the roach motels.
“Thanks.”
“Are you going to the ice cream thing?” I asked. Damnit, Kay, use your nouns!
He started to answer but just then he was joined in the doorway by an attractive brunette. “I’m waiting,” she said into Hayden’s ear. She had big boobs. I had the feeling she definitely put out.
“I’ll see you guys later, okay?” said Hayden.
Sure, okay, yeah, we mumbled. He called us “guys.” We weren’t even “girls” to him. And that was definitely a woman waiting for him inside.
The brunette disappeared soon after that, but the legend of Hayden was only beginning.
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