My Second Grade Crush

Carrie was sassy, snotty, cruel, and arrogant; I loved her, she sat next to me in first grade. Her Dorothy Hammel haircut suit her well, she spent mornings before school training for ice skating competitions. I dreamed about her in the Olympics. I was jealous. None of the boys would tease her – they were afraid of her. She was strong, glamorous, determined and successful. Whether I loved her or just wanted to be her is still in question? Mine and Carrie’s was perhaps my first dysfunctional relationship.

I decided to do what every decent man would do. Flowers or chocolate, I just could not decide. There was no special holiday and it was no where near her birthday. I didn’t even know her birthday. I was a reasonable 6 year-old and looked over my finances; the chocolate and flowers would not work.

That night I consulted my therapist, Mom. She had answers to the dramatic dilemmas and she pulled through with the perfect solution for me to express my feelings within my financial constraints. One sheet of pink Kleenex, a piper cleaner a little work and she assured me that we would have a beautiful carnation in no time. These were household items; I did not even have to get chauffeured to the store. Things were looking up for my love and I.

Mom stocked a drawer full of art and craft supplies. She suggested we make a few trial samples together and then when I was ready she would leave me to create my masterpiece. We snipped, cut and taut with the diligence of Dr. Frankenstein and Egor. We puffed fluffed and coifed, after all my love life was at stake here. Finally, I was ready. I chose my materials wisely. Color and texture are essential to any good piece of art. I had to be sure. Soft pink tissue, a dark green pipe cleaner and an additional silk leaf to add that extra authenticity to my creation. I deliberated upon my tasks and set forth with fierce conviction to each step outlined by mom. The end result! What a sight. I was so proud and Mom was impressed with my work. I gave life to this creation. It was beautiful. I made it. Once Carrie laid here eyes on this she was certain to return my affection. Mom reveled in my excitement. My naïve ability to express affection without fear was probably quite refreshing to a mother of 4 and wife of a drinking man. I walked around the house with the flower practicing my presentational speech to Carrie.

“Carrie. We have been sitting side by side for quite some time and I think it is about time that we clear the air and define where this is leading. Truth is I may not be available for very much longer. There is a higher ratio of girls to boys in the second grade class. It is time we make a formal decision for our future. With that in mind I present to you this flower. I made specifically for you with intentions of love. Please accept this gift as a symbol of everlasting dedication to one another.”

Pleased with my rehearsal I lay the gift on my nightstand. The glow of the night-light illuminated the intricate tufts of tissue and subtle shades of pink. What a vision! I did not sleep very well. Tossing and turning with excitement and nerves for the upcoming exchange.
The noisy bus ride to school lasted forever. I daydreamed myself as a White Knight taking passage with a troop of circus players in hopes to return my fair maidens enchanted rose stolen by the barbarians of the north. Perhaps I unfairly placed the boisterous children on the bus in the role of circus players. A yammering group of psychotic prisoners may have been more appropriate. No one would spoil this precious event. No one would deprive my passion the opportunity to shine in the light of my love’s eyes.

The gift was safely stowed in my satchel and would remain there until the exact moment. . That moment when the planets align and the stars illuminate the sky to praise the forthcoming joy. That moment of complete tranquility in the world. That moment that God lays his hand on my soul and blesses the sanctity of my love. That moment when the conductor strikes up the orchestra filling the classroom with overtures of love. That moment when Carrie smiles and says…

It’s beautiful – You are my one and only White Knight!

I arrived at my desk. Carrie was scrambling for her workbook – we were analyzing the letter “L” at that point in our studies. I was rehearsed. I was ready. I reached into my bag, pulled out the paper flower and extended it out to Carrie, took a deep breath and said...And said!

Oh shit! What was I going to say to her? I was so nervous I forgot my whole speech. Suddenly I felt the words working their way to my lips. Yes! Yes! Here they are! It’s coming. I think its coming! Carrie noticed me facing her. She sat motionless with my image in her peripheral, it was obvious she knew something was up and my deadening stare definitely concerned her.

“Here!” I blurted out. “I made you this! Here!”

Oy, I sounded so dumb! What the hell was that? You idiot! You blew it all at once. My obsession over the perfect presentation culminated in "HERE! I MADE YOU THIS!" What a shmuck I was.

“What’s this?” Carrie snapped.

“It’s for you!”

“I know how to make those!” And she casually turned away.

“But I made it for you: Take it.”

She hesitated, rolled her eyes, grabbed it, gave me a quick toothless grin, dropped it in her desk and slammed the desktop shut smashing my perfect creation. She didn’t even say thanks! I sat beside her all day wanting to open up her desk and take back the flower.

That night Mom helped me drown my sorrow with a frozen fudgical. I explained to Mom that she didn’t even say thanks. By our second round of fudgicals I started feeling better.

“Don’t worry sweetie. Some day, some girl is gonna fuss over your beauty marks on those cute cheeks of yours and you will both be very happy.”

Happy like her and Dad? I thought to myself. Was she happy?

I fell asleep that night nursing my first heart break and drifting into the peaceful dreams of adolescence. As I began that shift from wake to deep sleep my dog, Toby barked and jumped from my bed as my bedroom door swung open from Mom’s entry. Something was wrong, she did not look like the kind compassionate mom that I just devoured chocolate treats with. She swiftly gathered me up from my bed and we headed out the door through the hallway and out to the car. Everything was moving so fast. I was floating through the air and confused as to how I was traveling through the hallway without taking one step from my bed.

“We’re going to get your father!”

“But I don’t have my shoes”

As she placed me in the passenger seat of her car she hesitated, perplexed. I felt like I could actually see her mind questioning her actions. In a huff she shut the car door and left me alone in the garage only to appear a few moments later carrying my sneakers. I was still half asleep as she dropped them in my lap, shut her door and started the car. She was on one of her missions I was just uncertain what this one was about. I scanned my memory in hopes to recall what misdeed I had participated in the past week to suborn such behavior. Slipping my sneakers onto my bare feet it was only a few moments before we arrived at a small neighborhood bar. Mom pulled up alongside of Dad’s car. Suddenly her mission became clear. This trip was not about me. She picked me up in her arms and headed toward the door of the tiny building. My blue and white pajamas glistened as we made our way near the neon sign titled Miller. The place was dark and quiet and there were about 10 adult men randomly sitting around the bar. Large glasses, some full of beer others with other dark colored liquids that I recognized from the liquor cabinet at home. Dad sat alone. He did not seem surprised to see us. It was as if he was expecting us to show up. I guess he knew his wife was just crazy enough to pull her 6-year old son out of bed to come and find him drowning in a mug of beer. Or maybe he was just so drunk that he was in a walking coma. But Mom gently sat me on the bar stool next to Dad and said...

“Here, you take care of him tonight. He is your son too.”

Then she left.

Dad asked. “You want a soda?”

“Sure.” I yawned.

He gestured to the bartender. I drank my Pepsi and wondered if Dad ever made Mom a flower.