The Boy From Hot Ice

You could say I went into a bit of a depression following the breakup. I guess you could say I had a hard time going to sleep at night and a harder time waking up in the morning. I guess you might say the aftermath of losing the only guy I ever imagined loving for the rest of my life had some pretty serious effects on me.
The same way I guess you could say I was a little tall.
I almost quit the squad, but I was in desperate need of friends to talk to. And all the girls - every last fucking beautiful one of them - listened to me. They told me everything would be alright and I would find someone new soon, and they all even insisted I give Steve a chance, but how could I? He was the reason Jeremy dumped me, and I would never give him a chance. I couldn't.
Amanda was a surprising ace in the hole when it came to discussing my relationship issues. She always offered a shoulder to cry on, an arm around me when I needed comforting, and a listening ear. Well, two listening ears, but you know what I mean.
And just as the basketball season rolled around, I had to face it all again. Because where do you think our first game was? That's right. Modesto.
I did my best not to look through the crowd for him, but who was I trying to fool? Of course I scoured the crowd, looking for the familiar square jawline, dirty blonde hair, and kaleidoscope eyes I missed so much. I was surprise when I didn't see him in his usual spot - last row of the bleachers, last spot to the far right so he could make a b-line to the door afterward. Maybe he got out of it somehow. He didn't really ever seem to like those games, so maybe he ditched.
But there he was. He wasn't in his secluded spot acting like the wallflower he was. He was front and center, and though he was just about ten feet in front of me, I missed him because I was looking in his old spot. But he was a new Jeremy, hanging with a new crowd, and smiling like he had always belonged here. Like it was only natural that he should be on a double date with David.
I didn't recognize the girl beside him, but I decided I hated her. She was so pretty, but in my mind, she was a slut. She would always be the girl who stole Jeremy from me, even though it was my own fault that I lost him. And Jeremy - somehow he seemed taller now than just months before. He seemed even more handsome, happier too. And as much as I tried to get him to notice me, he didn't. Or at least he didn't show that he did. And I even switched with Mary so I could be directly in front of him, but he was still sitting and smiling and sharing his popcorn with HER.
I wondered then if he only displayed such affection with her because he was angry with me. How childish this was! How immature! He could come up to me himself if he had something to say. He didn't have to do it this way.
Afterward, I didn't rush to the locker room to change. Instead I wandered the largely empty halls and visited my old locker. I brushed my fingers gently along the grill at the top, tracing the place where I had first gotten to know Jeremy. My lock had always been faulty and I wondered if it still was... and yes, it was. I opened the door, fully aware of how much trouble I would get into if anyone ever saw this, and I peeped at the inside of the door. My Madonna sticker was still inside, though it was mostly gone, and I traced this too. I looked at my face in the small mirror, and was surprised to see tears falling down, staining my cheeks, tearing through the pink on my cheeks, bringing with them whatever shreds of mascara they could accumulate.
Then I looked beside me. There was his locker, still scuffed from the way he used to kick it with his boots to get it to close. And I smiled. I smiled for the first time since I stepped inside that school. I smiled remembering our talks, the first time he invited me to David's garage, the time he told me I looked nice. I closed my locker, though it was not mine, anymore. And I pressed my body against it, inhaling the scent of this old school, the smell of books and gossip, the smell of simpler times, the smell of naivety, and the smell of the boy who stood beside me every day. The smell of leather and aftershave.
"Excuse me," a very feminine voice called behind me.
I turned to see her. The girl who sat beside Jeremy. The girl I hated.
"Can I help you?" She asked.
I wanted to tell her how she could help me. I wanted to yell and scream all the reasons I hated her, hated everything she did, everything she was. I wanted to put some sort of voodoo curse on her that would turned her blonde hair green and make all her teeth fall out. I wanted to, but I didn't. I guess I was too miserable to put that much energy into anything.
"Sorry," I said quietly as I began to walk away.
"You're Liz, aren't you?" she asked as if she knew me.
"Yes," I answered, turning briefly.
"I'm Carrie," she smiled, extending her hand. And I shook out of pure kindness. Again, not sure why.
"Do I know you?"
"No," she said, "But I know that you and Jeremy used to date. I see your pictures all the time."
"Pictures of me and Jeremy?" I asked. We couldn't have taken too many together, and the ones we had were mostly in my possession.
"Pictures of the two of you, pictures of just you..."
"What are you talking about?"
She sighed a little as she explained. "I know how crazy he was about you. And he told me what happened."
"He told you I cheated, didn't he?"
She looked at me with a confused expression. "No," she answered. "He said the distance was just making it too hard for you guys to maintain a healthy relationship."
"Yeah, I guess that's true," I confessed.
"He's really great. And you know, I think he's still got it bad for you."
I looked up at her suddenly, not saying a word, and not sure why she would tell me this."
"His locker is full of pictures. They used to be hanging up, but I kinda threw a fit, so now they're in a little box in there."
I looked at the locker, as if I would be able to see them or something.
"I think I might break up with him."
I didn't want to hate her anymore. In fact, I felt sorry for her.
"He's clearly not over you."
"Carrie, please don't do that. I know he must care about you. He must. He wouldn't be going out with you if he didn't."
"But, the pictures..."
"I think it's more that he's just being sentimental," I told her. I really did believe that, too. "You know, it was his first big relationship. Not to rub it in or anything, but we were each other's first loves."
"You guys had sex, huh?"
I didn't want to answer because I knew she wouldn't like the answer I would have to give. But I told her the truth.
"And, you were his first?"
I nodded.
She leaned against my locker. Well, her locker. With her arms crossed, she thought for a moment. Knowing I would need to leave soon, I spoke up.
"Look, you're beautiful. I kind of hate that, but it's true. And Jeremy's, well, let's just admit it. He's a catch. Don't break up with him because of some stupid pictures. We had a pretty rough breakup, and I'm sure he has no more feelings for me. And you guys..." I gulped as I said these words, "You're cute together."
"Really?" She smiled up at me.
"Really."

Strangely, a situation that started out so terrible for me turned out to be kind of pleasant. I even considered it to be a moment of closure. Seeing her, talking to her, realizing she was actually a very sweet girl... I hated it. But I was happy for Jeremy. I hadn't ruined him after all, I guess.

And then just like that, the year was back to normal. It was the same old miserable it had been before. It was the same boring everything, same girls adoring me because I was from California. And it was the same Steve hitting on me. But something that had changed was my attitude toward him. I no longer saw him as the reason I wasn't with Jeremy. Now I saw him as the handsome, sweet, mature young man he was. So when he asked me to be his girlfriend, it was only natural that I should say yes.

Life was gradually getting better. I was prettier and healthier and more confident than I'd ever been in my life. And even though I didn't forget about Jeremy, and even though little things here and there would bring back memories of him, and even though I cried sometimes when the anniversaries of our first date or our first time together would come along, I was still happy for the most part. I suppose I was as happy as anyone would be in my shoes.
Then graduation came. Not mine, but Steve's. And with him going off to Harvard, we decided to break up. I couldn't give another long-distance relationship a try. It hadn't worked the first time... how could I ever believe it would happen again?
And I could go into detail about my summer and my first party and my first drink and the first time I tried marijuana, but to be honest, I never felt like those were milestones that were worth celebrating. Fact is, I had become something very different after Jeremy. I became a girl who didn't give a fuck about the world. I became the girl who didn't spend 30 minutes applying makeup and another hour on my hair. I wore the simplest jeans and tee-shirts I owned. I stopped shopping every weekend. I became a kind of a punk, I guess. And Jeremy's jacket, the one he had given me that morning I left the town that I will always consider home, sat proudly on my shoulders. Even though I was over him, or told myself I was, I still treated that jacket like it was a fellow human being. I loved it and cherished it and slept beside it and told it all my secrets.
And I had become popular. I wasn't attending a rich kids' school, I just happened to be rich myself. And my friends were. And that alone made us popular. At the time, I thought that was the coolest thing. My opinion of that has since changed.

As the title of this chapter says, it truly was an uneventful summer. I wish I had some wild story to tell, or that there was some major life-changing event that took place, but there just wasn't.

Not until November 11, 1988.