Chapter 6

"I Wanna Go, But I Hate To Leave You"

SEPTEMBER 3rd, 1978

The good thing about summer is no school. The good thing about a summer that's going to be the last couple of months you spend with your first girlfriend is the same—no school. That means more time. The only thing I had to do that summer was the paper route three days a week. Kara and I became almost inseparable.

We hung out over her house. We hung out over mine. We went to the movies—the big movie that summer was Grease, which we actually saw twice! And, of course, we spent a lot of time up on Braddox Hill.

July was great. The first part of August was great. But, as August wore on, the inevitability of our parting started to weigh heavily on both of us.

We both tried to be mature about it. I know we both wanted this to be an easy thing. However, I also knew, deep down, that I was kidding myself. I think she felt the same way.

September 2nd was a Saturday. We went to Braddox Hill. We made love, slow and long. When we were done, we both cried.

Her parents invited me over for supper that night, and I was glad of it. Then Kara and I ended up on the couch, watching TV, wrapped up in one another. We ended up falling asleep in one another's arms. Apparently, Mrs. Pocharsky saw this, called my mother, covered Kara and I up in a blanket, and left us there. So, when I woke up this morning, Sunday the 3rd, it was with her on top of me, holding on for dear life.

I thanked Mrs. Pocharsky. She pooh-pooh'ed it and made us breakfast. Then, it was time to pack the car. I helped, for a while—then Kara and I ended up sitting on the grass in her back yard.

"God, I knew this was going to be hard, but it's even harder than I thought," she said.

"I know. Just remember, though—this isn't forever. Even if we're never like this again, we'll always be friends."

"Promise?"

"I promise," I told her.

"And you'd better write! And call!"

"You betcha." We chatted for a bit more, then it was time to go. We walked out to her car, hand-in-hand.

"Time to go," her Dad said.

She turned to me, a sad smile on her face. And then she kissed me. "I love you," she whispered afterwards.

"I love you, too. Study hard."

"You too." We walked over to the car. I opened the door, and she got in. As the car pulled out of her driveway, she waved. Then I watched my first true love roll away down the hill.

SEPTEMBER 6th, 1978

This was the first big manifestation of change. Instead of starting 9th grade at the Prep, I'd be starting it at good ol' Cabot East JHS. It was rather strange and eerie. I was so happy to get out of this place the first time around—and here I was, voluntarily staying an extra year. I still didn't know if it was bad or good.

My unease wasn't helped at lunchtime. I found a table with The Usual Suspects from last year—and couldn't help but feel the missing person—Kara. Patrick was also missing, he'd gone to the Prep. "It's the first time we've not gone to school together. It's a little weird," Kelly had confessed to me.

But, I was lucky to have the people that were there, and I knew it. Especially since one of the people still there was Beth.

The rest of them, too. "So, how you holding up, bucko?" Kelly asked me.

"Ah, Kel, you know how it is. I'm OK, though. She called last night, we talked for a while. That was cool."

"Good. Hey, if you need a shoulder to cry on... "

"I know, Kel. Thanks. It's appreciated."

Beth was just joining us, along with her friend Kerry—and another girl. "Hey, do you guys know Olivia?" she asked. "I asked her to eat with us."

Everyone said hello to Olivia, who murmured hello back, looking very uncomfortable.

Her name was Olivia Drogins, and, yes, I knew her. We'd been in science class last year, in eighth grade. In fact, we sat next to each other. I liked her, possibly because we were both outsiders. Actually, the first time around, I'd asked her out on a date—a dance, towards the end of the year—in eighth grade. She'd eagerly accepted—and then the next day told me her parents had forbidden her to go. And that was that. This time around, of course, I had had Kara.

But I still had gotten along with Olivia in science class. I was one of the few people that paid any attention to her at all. You have to understand, Olivia was the school sad sack.

Her clothes often had holes in the elbows, or were completely threadbare. Her shoes looked like they were being held together by spit and hope. Her hair was often dull and lifeless. This girl was poor. She was also painfully, painfully shy. She'd clearly absorbed a lot of hard knocks, even at 14 years of age.

The thing is, though—she was smart. When you got her talking, she was sweet and nice and interesting. And she wasn't bad looking. With a little fixing up, she'd be very good looking indeed. She was tall, willowy without being skinny, just curvy enough. Her eyes, when they sparkled—which was rare—were beautiful. In other words, in many ways, this girl had potential. Potential that, it seemed to me, was being completely unrealized.

That's when it struck me—and I chuckled to myself. Beth had decided to take on a project. Good for her.

The rest of the table might have looked askance at Olivia, except that Beth brought her over. And everyone at the table now knew about Beth, and they probably came to the same conclusion I did about what Beth was doing. So, when Beth tried to draw Olivia into the conversation, the rest of us went with it.

There was another sort-of new face at the table—my erstwhile semi-girlfriend Christine Seneca. That only made sense, as she was best friends with Michelle Pepper who'd been eating with us for a while. Knowing that I wasn't Chris's favorite person, I just waved and then tried to ignore her. It seemed as though she was looking at me kind of funny, though.

"So, what did everyone do this summer?" Danica was asking.

"Stayed in remission," Beth said with a wry grin.

"Ah, yes, the important things," Stan grinned back at her. She beamed at him. I was so glad I'd opened up to Beth this time around and got her in with this crowd. It was good for her. Stan Murvetsin didn't stand on ceremony with anyone. Beth needed that.

"Oh, and I lived vicariously through the exploits of my best friend, the stud," Beth continued, pointing at me.

"Oh do NOT start!" I told her.

"Sorry," she grinned, not sorry at all. "Anyone else?"

"My Dad decided I was old enough to start working at the sub shop," Stan said. "Somebody shoot me."

Michelle laughed. "Less than fun?"

"If I never see another steak bomb for the rest of my life, it'll be too soon."

We all chuckled at that, then Michelle spoke up. "I bought a bass. Guitar, I mean." We all looked at her. "I'm just learning to play it now."

"You're taking up bass?" I said, pleased.

"Yeah. You inspired me, you know," she told me, "seeing you play guitar in English last year. I was going to do guitar, but I figured bass was a little more unusual. So, I'm taking up bass. My poor parents," she laughed.

"They're upset?" Sara asked.

"No, not upset, just stunned. I'm demure, I'm reserved, I'm a good student. Basically, I'm a preppy. And I'm going to be a rock and roll bass player. My parents' image of me is having trouble dealing with that," she laughed.

"Well, you'll need the leopard print miniskirt and the fishnet stockings. Then you'll be all set," I joked.

"Oh GOD," Stan hissed. "Do NOT put that image in my head!"

"Image?" Michelle asked.

"You, in a miniskirt and fishnets playing a bass. I think I'm in love!" We all cracked up at that, but Michelle blushed bright red!

We laughed and joked throughout the rest of lunch. It almost made me forget Kara wasn't there. Almost.

OCTOBER 2nd, 1978

It was the day before the first anniversary of my recycling, and I couldn't believe how much had changed.

A lot of it to the good. Even though Kara was gone, what we had was so valuable I couldn't even put it into words. And as it turned out, we were telling the truth when we parted—we did stay the best of friends. We wrote letters to each other a few times a week, and talked on the phone once a week. On the phone the previous day, a Sunday, she'd hesitantly confessed that she'd started seeing someone. That bothered me a lot less than I thought it was going to, actually. I really did want her to be happy.

I, on the other hand, was not seeing anyone. Though I seemed to be getting some interest. I don't know—even after having lived to adulthood in the previous life, I was still horrible at picking up on signals like that. I was biding my time, anyhow. After Kara, any new girlfriend was going to have a lot to live up to.

School was good, better than I'd anticipated. It wasn't as challenging as the Prep had been the first time, but who cared? My grades were up and I was teaching myself some study skills. One thing I'd learned—school wasn't about 'learning', it was about pieces of paper. I could learn on my own. I needed the paper, with the high grades on it, to get out of the rut of the first time around. Period. I didn't care if I was bored, as long as an A came back at the end of the quarter.

I wasn't getting beat up, I had a good group of friends, I was enjoying life. All great changes. I was beginning to really realize what a gift I had been given.

Not everything, of course. Beth. Though things there were far better than they had been, too. I saw her every day. She was opening up. Her little 'project' with Olivia—and that's just what it had been, Beth had confessed it to me—was going very well. Olivia actually talked and interacted with the rest of us. She seemed less self-conscious about her threadbare and worn clothes. Of course, Beth's illness was still hanging over everyone's head, but she was enjoying the life she had. And we were as thick as thieves most of the time. It really was gratifying.

Of course, there were other bad things about being recycled. Not as serious as Beth, of course, but annoying enough. Like this day, for example, October 2nd, 1978.

Otherwise known as Bucky Bleepin' Dent.

Every Red Sox fan knows what I'm talking about. The Playoff, Sox and Yankees, for the AL East title. The two teams had ended the season tied for first—after the Sox blew a damn 14 game lead—and would have a one-game playoff at Fenway Park on this day.

Of course I had to watch it. I was a rabid Red Sox fan. Why wouldn't I watch it?

Well, because I knew what was coming, that's why.

Of course, I couldn't tell my mother that. And she would've wondered why I wasn't watching. I mean, Sox and Yankees in a playoff? Of course I'd watch. It started at 2 pm, I got home from school just as the first inning was getting underway, and Mom already had it on for me.

So, I watched. It was rather like watching replays of a train wreck.

The Sox, of course, teased us all, taking a 2-0 lead after the sixth, including a homer by the legendary Yaz.

Then came the seventh. The Yankees got two men on base, there were two outs, and Bucky Dent came to the plate. He was their shortstop, their number nine hitter, a guy who played for defense. He wasn't much of a hitter. He had no power. He hit a harmless fly ball to left. No problem. Yaz had it.

Except the wind kept pushing it, and pushing it, and it drifted over the Green Monster for a three run homer.

Bucky Bleepin' Dent. And I had to sit there and watch it all over again.

The Yankees got it up to 5-2. The Sox came back and made it close, but Yaz popped out with the tying run on third base in the ninth. 5-4, Yankees.

There are some people that enjoy horror movies, and can watch them over and over again. Good for them—I'm not one of them. Jeez. I could've stood to have only watched this particular horror movie once.

The next day, in school, everyone was gloomy. I couldn't help thinking to myself, oh you guys don't know the half of it. Just you wait. Wait until 1986 and the ball going through Buckner's legs. Wait until 2003 and Grady Little leaving Pedro in too long. Just wait. This is only the beginning.

I should've come back as a non-baseball fan.

OCTOBER 11th, 1978

For the past couple of weeks, things had been, well, strange.

Oh, school was fine, and my friends were fine. Mostly. One of them, however, was acting strange—Christine Seneca.

As I've said, after our brief pseudo-romance last year, she'd distanced herself from me. We barely talked the rest of last year. Then, this year, she started eating with us; because of Michelle, I'd guessed. She started the year by resolutely ignoring me. Then, all of a sudden, she wasn't.

She started talking to me. Then she started sitting next to me. And we were chatting easily after a very short time. I'll admit, I was a wee bit confused. Was this the same girl that had been pretty much ignoring me for a year? Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind. I liked Chris—I never would've asked her out last year in the first place if I didn't like her. It just was strange. I wondered, frankly, what was up.

This was the day I found out. As I got out of the lunch line, she grabbed me and pulled me down towards the end of the gang's table, where we could be relatively undisturbed.

"Ed, I wanted to talk to you," she started. "I've been thinking. And, well, the thing is, I was wondering if we should give it another shot. Us, I mean."

That surprised the hell out of me. Yeah, she'd been nicer, but I never expected that. "You mean you want us to try going out again?" I said.

"Yeah. Look, last year, I wasn't ready. It was too scary. But I've been thinking a lot about it. I really do like you. I'd like to try it again."

"Wow," I said. "I didn't expect this." I took a breath. "OK, what are you doing Saturday?"

"Nothing," she said, grinning. We made plans.

OCTOBER 26th, 1978

It was a strange relationship from the start. We had a good time, but Chris still seemed weird, I don't know how else to describe it. And she was very, very insecure. That was hammered home to me on this day, the 26th.

The previous day, I'd missed the bus. As usual when that happened, I walked home with Beth.

The next day, Chris confronted me. "Was that you I saw walking ahead of me yesterday?"

"Were you behind me? You should've yelled. I missed the bus."

"So, you were walking with Beth?"

"If I miss the bus, I have a standing invite to go over there and wait for my Mom to get out of work," I shrugged.

"You could've found me, you know. You know I walk. You could've hung over my place."

"I just always go with Beth."

"But I'm your girlfriend!" she pouted.

"And she's my best friend. Chris, please do not get all jealous over Beth. You know she's sick. You know we've been close since birth. Please don't do that to me."

She pouted for a second, then took a deep breath. "OK. You're right," she hissed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't do that. I'm still not very good at this girlfriend thing."

"You're fine," I smiled.

NOVEMBER 2ND, 1978

But she wasn't. It got better with Beth, but worse with everyone else. The next day, at lunch, Michelle pulled me aside and asked me to explain the bass line of "Day Tripper" to her. She was really enthusiastic about learning the bass, and I was glad to help—especially if she was learning Beatles tunes! We spent most of the lunch enthusiastically discussing bass lines to Beatles' songs, along with Stan who had taken up the guitar himself—and I got glared at by Chris the whole time. Jesus, Michelle Pepper was Chris's best friend! I mean, come on.

The day after, it was Kelly. We ended up telling silly jokes all through lunch. Chris was livid.

Kelly even said something on the way home on the bus. "What is up with Chris?"

"Jealousy," I replied. "I'm trying to deal with it."

"Jesus. What, you're not supposed to have any female friends?"

"That's the size of it. I pushed the point about Beth, and she backed off there, but I guess I'm supposed to avoid all other girls."

"Jesus. She was jealous over Beth?"

"Yep."

"What the hell is she gonna do when Kara comes home for Christmas and you two wanna hang out?"

"Oh, I don't even want to think about that."

On this day, November 2nd, I was eating lunch, when Beth said, "Hey. After school, Olivia and I are going to walk down to the square, hang out, maybe do some shopping. You wanna come with?"

"Sure," I said. I always wanted to spend time with Beth, and I knew she was trying to draw Olivia out, so I was glad to go.

Chris was not glad. She cornered me after lunch and, basically, flipped out on me. "Whoa," I interrupted. "What is the deal? You know all about Beth. And we didn't have anything planned today."

"But it's not just Beth, it's Olivia too!"

"Olivia is Beth's friend. Beth wants my help in drawing her out. I'm not going to discuss this anymore," I said, and walked away. I wasn't at all happy.

That afternoon, prowling Cabot Square, we talked about it. "I went to grammar school with her, so I've known her for years," Beth told me. "And, Eddie, just be careful, OK? You know how smart Chris is, but it's isolated her."

"As it has me," I reminded her.

"Right. But you're way ahead of her right now. Last year was a big deal for you. She's not there yet. I think she's clinging to you as her way out of her isolation."

"Good point. I just don't know how long I can deal with it. Honestly, I like having a girlfriend. But I want friends, too."

"Well, that's something else you have to think about," Beth said. "Do you like Chris, or do you just like having a girlfriend? I know you like sex," she teased. "But are you just going out with Chris to substitute for Kara?"

"First of all, Chris and I haven't done anything more than kiss, so that isn't it," I teased back. Then I got serious. "Honestly, Beffy? I've thought about that. I do like Chris, quite a bit. I wouldn't be going out with her if I didn't. I don't need or want a girlfriend that badly. Though, I will admit, that the desire to have a girlfriend probably does make me more willing to put up with some of her crap. Does that make any sense?"

"Sort of," Beth laughed.

"And I do realize the isolation, and how damaging that can be. Been there, done that."

"Don't be too hard on her," Olivia suddenly said, very quietly.

"Hmm?" I turned to Olivia.

"Don't be too hard on her," she said a little more loudly. "It can be crippling. It's for different reasons, but I'm isolated, too. I have one friend," she said, pointing to Beth, "and, before this year, I had zero."

"You have two friends," I smiled, which pleased her. "I thought we got along great in science class last year. I like you, Olivia, OK? But I see your point. Like I said, I've been there, too."

"I know. So, bear with Chris, that's all I'm saying."

"But the other side of the coin is, take care of Eddie, too," Beth interjected. "I'd hate to see you get in a relationship that's damaging."

"I know," I sighed. "I think Miss Seneca and I need to have a long talk."

NOVEMBER 4th, 1978

I went over Christine's house on this day, a Saturday. I knew her parents were never around on Saturdays. Chris was an only child, so I figured we'd be able to have that long talk.

It was pre-empted. Because I'm an idiot.

I got into her house and we sat next to each other on the couch. Before I could say a word, Chris floored me. She looked at me and blurted out, "I want to have sex."

After my head stopped spinning, I hissed, "Excuse me?"

"I know you had sex with Kara. Michelle told me. She also told me Kara said it was great. I want that."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said. "Look, nobody's here. We have the house all to ourselves. I really want this."

This was a time when I should've let my adult brain do the thinking for me—because that part of my brain knew this was a bad fucking idea. However, the thirteen-year-old was in control. And he was thinking with the other head.

This was the problem they don't tell you about when it comes to losing your virginity young. It's addictive. I knew what it was like and wanted it again. It'd been a couple months, and in that couple months I had practically given myself tennis elbow whacking off. Now here was Chris, my girlfriend, telling me she wanted it.

Of course, I should've asked why. I should've questioned her motives. I also should've remembered that I'd been questioning whether or not she should be my girlfriend in the first place. But I didn't. The part of my brain that was doing that was drowned out by the other part of my brain screaming, "Hell, yeah!"

So, we went upstairs to Chris's room, so I could take her virginity.

It was a disaster.

I tried going slow. We got each other undressed, and she was plainly nervous, which wasn't any surprise. I was kissing her and rubbing her boobs. I tried to kiss my way down to her boobs, while putting my hand between her legs, when she asked, "What are you doing?"

"Working you up."

"Uh, well, I think I'm worked up already."

Uh, no, dear, my hand is on your pussy and you're bone-dry, I thought. But I didn't say that. "It's just better if I go slow," is what I said.

She acquiesced for a bit, but then started rushing me again. I should've had an alarm go off in my head when she said, at one point, "Can we just get it over with?" But I didn't. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Thinking with my dick again. So, after not-nearly-enough foreplay, I went to enter her.

The only thing that went right is that I was still, from Kara, in the habit of toting a couple of condoms around in my wallet, so I didn't have to worry about that. I slipped the condom on. She looked ready and eager.

She wasn't.

Chris was a genuine virgin—meaning, medically. She also wasn't nearly lubricated enough. But she kept egging me on. And I kept letting her.

God, it hurt, badly. Hurt her, I mean. She was crying throughout the whole thing. And everytime I tried to stop, she told me not to. And I didn't, God help me. I should've. I didn't understand why she didn't want me to stop. I didn't understand why she was so determined to get it over with, even when it was causing her so much pain. And I should've understood, I should've seen it.