Chapter 1: Sean Porter's Dilemma

You wonder, sometimes, how you get into these situations. Looking back, I have to believe that, somewhere along the timeline of my life, I was led to this point, that I would be here no matter how I led my life. But I digress...

In the spring of 1981, I was experiencing a crisis. I was a sixteen- year-old soccer jock with girl trouble brewing, ready to spill out and burn me good. On this particular weekend, I had spent Saturday afternoon doing homework and fooling around with Kristina Mendoza, the girl I had been dating for a few weeks, only to end up frustrated when her mother called. Our fun was interrupted, and she had to go home. Later that same afternoon, I helped coach a team of younger kids, a boy's under-eight soccer team, to their first win of the season, and we all celebrated by going out for pizza and sodas afterwards. Davey and Kip, two kids I had been working with who were on the team, fell asleep in my car as I was driving them home. I carried them into their house, where my old girlfriend, Molly O'Toole, was babysitting. One thing led to another, and before I could stop it, Molly and I were going at it on the family room floor.

Now, here it was, Sunday afternoon, and I still couldn't work up the courage to call Kristina, even though I knew she was waiting to hear from me. Not only did I screw Molly, but I had the feeling I had royally screwed myself by letting the little head do my thinking for me last night. I had no idea what I should do.

So I did nothing, which was even worse. I hid at home most of the day, even though it was a gorgeous spring Sunday. I didn't want to see anybody, I didn't want to talk to anybody. I couldn't even stand being in my own skin. I tried to tell myself to give Kristina a call, pretend that everything was all right, but I knew things weren't all right, and I knew my voice would betray me. I thought about calling her brother Jorge, one of my best friends, but I wouldn't know how to explain it to him, either. My best buddy Jake would be sympathetic, but he had his own troubles, ever since he was caught with his pants down, literally, with his next-door neighbor, Jaimie.

It was just too much of a dilemma for a sixteen-year-old kid.

So I stayed locked away from the world at large, hiding in my room (it almost sounds like a Brian Wilson song; in fact, it felt like a Brian Wilson song). I dreaded going to school on Monday, but I knew I wouldn't be able to effectively fake an illness. Mom and Dad had seen it all with my older brother Mike, and he pretty much ruined it for me, as well as my younger brother Stephen, when it came to trying to scam the parents.

Monday morning dawned cold and rainy, perfect for my mood. In the hallway before first class, I imagined that everybody around me was whispering and pointing at me accusingly, knowing practically first- hand what had happened over the weekend. I kept my head buried in my locker, trying to will myself into some sort of invisibility.

By lunchtime I was a wreck. I wanted to move away, start life over under a new identity. Everything, including what little future I had, looked bleak. And then things got really bad.

I was standing under the canopy of one of the rear doors of the school during lunch. It was one of the spots where the smokers tended to congregate, but I was hoping that the weather would discourage a lot of them. Of course, today I couldn't be that lucky. I was enveloped in a blue-white cloud of cigarette smoke as I tried to choke down my sandwich. Finally, I had enough. I disgustedly tossed the rest of my lunch away and yanked open the door. I thought maybe the library would be a safe place to hang out for the rest of my lunch period. It was, after all, foreign territory to most of my acquaintances. I headed in that direction, only to bump into Jorge Mendoza.

Jorge was a couple of inches shorter than me, but what he lacked in height, he more than made up for in ferocity. He grabbed the front of my shirt and pushed me back against the wall.

Chapter 2 »