“I need to talk to you,” he said.
“We’ve been talking,” I said.
“Not school news. Not superficial stuff. We need to talk about us.”
Oh great, here goes, I thought.
We walked along the gravel path, the majestic cedars towering over us. I loved the trees, the history they must have seen in one hundred years. During windy storms, one would get blown down, and it was like a death. From our house across the street, I could hear the crack as the tree snapped.
Later, the smell of pitch filled the air as workers used chain saws to cut the giant trunks into pieces small enough to haul away. After the sun went down and the workers left for the day, I’d sneak into the cemetery and collect pine cones and needles from the tree. The cones would ooze sap and the piney smell seeped out of the treasure box I hid them in, a strong, everlasting memory.
I followed Wax to a marble bench carved into curly cues and Ionic columns.
“Sit,” he demanded, pointing to the bench.
I sat and although the cool stone felt wonderful against by battered legs, I was anxious.
“What, Wax? I need to get home.”
Uncomfortable with whatever was coming; I knew I would be unaccepting of any change. I wanted to leave things as they were.
But it wasn’t just me I was concerned about. Even though I was a junior now, my mother still waited at the screen door for me everyday. I never wanted to do anything to cause her to worry.
“What are we doing?” he asked, sadness on his face.
I knew what he meant, but I wasn’t getting into the discussion about it with him when my mother was hanging at the door watching the clock.
“Call me tonight, and we’ll talk,” I said.
But he wasn’t having it.
“Pipi, I don’t want to talk on the phone. This won’t take long. All you have to do is tell me what this means to you,” he said.
I wanted to ask Does what mean to me? I had too much respect for him. It was better to just get it out, let him get angry with me, and move on.
“Why don’t we begin with you telling me what it means to you?” I asked, hitting a nerve.
“You’re avoiding the question,” he said.
“Okay! We’re just friends,” I said. “You’re my best friend.”
Sitting down next to me, he let our book bags slide to the ground, his head hanging down.
“I was scared you’d say that,” he said, softly.
Afraid he’d get emotional on me, I wasn’t equipped to handle emotion from him. My family wasn’t big on emoting. I didn’t want to lead him on if he wanted more from me, so I didn’t touch him, no comforting hand on his arm, no pat on the back, all things he gave me from time to time. It was too late for me.
“Wax, you’ve never let on that you wanted more from me or our relationship. Never.”
“Well, I’m letting on now,” he said, shy. “I want more.”
“It’s too late,” I said, not meaning that exactly, but hoping he’d understand me. “You’re leaving in three months.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to go steady? I thought before I left for Boston, I’d get you a ring,” he confessed.
Petrified, I was afraid he’d already bought it and was just testing me, that before long he’d whip out a box and get down on one knee, or whatever guys did to ask to go steady. I weighed my next statement carefully, knowing it would end up destroying the next four months for both of us before graduation.
“Go steady? Since your junior prom last spring, we haven’t gone out on a date,” I said, sounding more brutal than I felt. “You’ve never even mentioned the senior prom. Over Christmas break, we spoke once.”
“I know. I’ll change that.”
“Oh Wax, I don’t want to go steady. I’m not the going steady type,” I said softly.
It never occurred to me to ask him why he’d never given me any indication he wanted me for more than just a friend. I was too angry to hear the truth, anyway.
He pulled it together, I have to hand him that. He stood up, bending over to pick our book bags up off the ground. I was shocked that was going to be it from him.
“I guess we’d better get moving. Your mom is probably looking for you,” he said.
I bit my tongue, not wanting to call attention to his disappointment, but needing to apologize, feeling guilty because he’d come to my rescue so early and made the transition into high school as smooth as could be.
The only problem was that he’d waited too long to let me know what he really felt for me. We were having the going steady conversation about two years too late.
We left the cemetery and crossed the street. For the first time, he didn’t place that protective hand on my back as we crossed. I could see my mom standing at the screen door, most likely on her tiptoes, craning her neck to see if she could catch a glimpse of me. When we reached the corner, Wax gave me my book bag. I could see he was trying to find the right words; now it was his turn to hurt my feelings.
“There’s no point in us continuing on like this,” he said. “You’re safe now from bullying; you don’t need me to protect you. We should put some space between us.”
Frowning, I wondered why the drama. I thought what he was saying was that he didn’t want to walk me to school anymore. Our friendship didn’t include much else.
“Okay, Wax,” I said, unable to hide the disappointment. “Whatever you want. I guess this is goodbye, then?”
Corny, I know, but he wasn’t making it easy on me.
“I guess,” he said. “Goodbye, Philipa.”
Turning on his heels, his face stony, he walked away from me. I felt badly about hurting his feelings, but not bad enough to go after him. I was too confused, the push-pull of contradiction overwhelming. What did I want from Wax? An adoring boyfriend who I had to fight off every Saturday night? A going steady ring to prove to everyone I had a boyfriend at MIT who would come home to see me during his breaks, ready to beat up anyone who dared to flirt with me?
Or just a good friend? I would miss the friend the most, since the boyfriend was never mine to begin with.
I turned to go through the gate to the yard, choking down a sob.
“What’s going on?” my mother asked, pulling the fatigue shirt around her body protectively.
That woman can smell intrigue from fifty yards. Martha’s words about Angela and her two faces zoomed through my head and I remembered the way it made me feel, like I’d been betrayed. I wasn’t going to do the same thing to my mother.
“Wax asked me to go steady, and I said no, so I guess we can’t be friends anymore,” I replied truthfully as I came up the steps.
She held the screen door open for me, looking at me with concern.
“Well, I don’t think that was very nice,” she said.
I agreed with her. He didn’t get his way so bye bye Philipa.
“I let him have the last word. He’s probably angry now,” I said. “He’ll get over it.”
“Come inside, Pipi. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Pushing me along gently, she had her hand on my back in my mother’s no nonsense way. Although it was warm outside, she closed and locked the door against an imaginary threat. I knew she was in protection mode.
I could hear water running and then the squeak of it being turned off. Soon, Lynne came running down the stairs.
“Is Pipi home?” she called.
My mother took my book bag from me and pushed me over to the table.
“Sit,” she said.
Everyone was telling me to sit; but from my mother, taking charge was welcomed.
“She’s in here,” my mother called out. “That Walter guy gave her the ax.”
Snickering, I shook my head. My family would surround me like a wagon train. Lynne came into the kitchen, stopping to stare at me, shocked.
“No way,” she said. “Wax and Pipi are a hot item at school.”
“What’s hot?” my mother said, shakin
g her head. “You sit. I’ll make tea.”
“We were never hot,” I said, annoyed. “We’ve never been more than friends. Close friends. Out of nowhere, he asked me to go steady, and I said no.”
“Why on earth did you say no?” Lynne said, pulling a chair out to sit with me. “Isn’t that what you want?”
“Lynne, you know he’s never given me any indication we were more than just friends. Not a hint. And right before he graduates, when he’s going to go away to school, he drops that on me.”
“He wants to make sure you’ll be waiting for him,” Lynne said.
“Well, too bad. I doubt I’d date anyone, anyway. Now I can concentrate on school.”
“That’s all you do anyway,” Lynne said, argumentative. “Maybe that’s the problem. He knew he wasn’t a priority.”
“Gosh, thanks a lot,” I said. “As if I’m not confused enough already.”
Placing tea cups in front of us, my mother pulled out a chair and joined in.
“Girls, girls. Pipi’s right,” she said. “Walter needed to ease into asking her to go steady. Not drop a bomb like that without something leading up to it.”
“I wonder why he didn’t make it clear earlier that he wanted more than friendship,” Lynne replied. “He probably doesn’t know what he’s doing. The guy is inexperienced.”
“Inexperience is not that bad,” our mother replied.
“Mom, Wax is a nerd,” Lynne said. “Nerds are so cerebral.”
“So is Pipi,” my mother said, protective. “What will you do now?”
“Just get through the evening. Lynne, walk to school with me tomorrow, will you?”
“Of course,” she said. “I dare him to approach you.”
“Great! Now I can spend the rest of the semester hiding from him.”
Anger over the situation took hold. Thinking about what school would be like with Wax ignoring me until he graduated, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it. The alternative was unthinkable; I couldn’t pretend feeling something for him that didn’t exist. The contradiction was that although I would miss his friendship terribly, I didn’t want to go steady with anyone. I wanted to be alone, and it appeared I’d received my wish.
I couldn’t wait to get up to my room and flip through back issues of Mademoiselle.
Chapter 5
My wish came true; I was alone. Remembering how freeing it was to not have another’s schedule to adhere to, I came and went from school as I pleased, able to walk home with Lynne if I didn’t have to stay late.
Classmates watched carefully, taking their time approaching me now that Wax’s presence wasn’t dominating every second of my day.
On the afternoons I had practice, I began a new routine; instead of taking a shower at school after the game, I’d run home through the alleys of town in my uniform. Off the well trod path, I was sure to avoid an accidental meeting with Wax and his new girlfriend. It was only an additional mile of exercise, and it saved me at least an hour. I’d get home in less than ten minutes, get a shower and into my pajamas before dinner.
“Should I be worried about you?” my mother asked, tapping her foot. “What are you going to do when Lynne leaves for college in September?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, believing it. “I’ll have an opportunity to really push with my grades. Maybe I’ll even get a scholarship to some famous university.”
“Don’t even bother,” she replied, shaking her head. “I want all my girls in the same place, exactly where Daddy and I went.”
“Okay,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Whatever you want.”
“Well, that’s what I want.”
Picking up a potato to peel, I sensed she wasn’t done with me.
“What will you do about Junior Prom now,” she said, turning to me.
A flash of dismay pulsed through me, and I broke out in a sweat again.
“I never even thought of it,” I said honestly. “I guess I won’t go.”
The Junior Prom would have been bypassed anyway, because I’d hoped Wax would invite me to his Senior Prom. It was doubtful that would happen now.
The few weeks he had left in school were sad and uncomfortable for me. Less than a week after our friendship ended, he started dating someone in his class. It hurt me to see him with another girl. It seemed like he was going out of his way to make sure I saw them together, lingering outside of the room just as I left a class, or standing by the locker room on my way to the gym for practice. The first time it happened, a fellow student, I wouldn’t even call her a friend at the time, blocked the door, protecting me.
“Don’t go out there right now. Wax is hanging outside with some blond. Wait here a minute.”
Clutching my books to my chest, that he’d disrespect me was so foreign, I couldn’t believe it. But he did it again and again, and other students would do what they could to warn me, or block the view. It wasn’t unusual for me to be surrounded by angry protectors; I’m sure baffling for Wax.
Eventually, I got a chance to see the girl. I didn’t know her name, but she was everything I wasn’t; curvy and vibrant, she wore tight short skirts and tighter sweaters. A natural blond, her hair was shiny and straight. Her hair alone would undermine all the self-confidence I’d gained being with Wax.
Mortified, while I stared at them he glanced at me, his eyes zooming into mine, walking toward the staircase with his hand on her back, possessively, as he’d done to me. The deliberate exhibition did the trick; like a wounded animal, I might have even yelped a little bit. A nearby classmate, came to my rescue and pulled me away from the scene. I felt horrible; he’d been my best friend. Within days, I was dodging hallways like I had in elementary school, trying to avoid bullies. Unable to eat or sleep, the toll his actions took on me were unmistakable. My heart was broken.
As Wax’s graduation approached, he found other ways to intimidate me. We’d never driven anywhere together, yet after our break up, he started to drive to school everyday, and she’d be sitting on the center console with her arm around him. Lynne spotted him the first time he did it on Senior Skip Day. Mother had warned Lynne that if she valued her freedom that summer, she’d go to school. Resigned, she met me at the door.
“I guess you’re stuck with me one more day,” she said, following me down the path to the sidewalk.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “I’ll be miserable without you.”
Then, grabbing my arm, she pulled me back behind a tall yew hedge growing around our yard.
“Lynne! What the heck?” I cried.
“Shut up and duck down. I just saw Wax pull up at the corner.”
Spreading the branches of the yew, I could see him at the stop sign, the car idling, looking over at our house.
“Why doesn’t he move on?” I whined, frustrated. “This is just great.”
Pulling away from the corner, he drove off toward school.
“Ugh,” Lynne said. “What’s going on with him?”
“Let’s just get to school,” I said, for the first time, thinking I might get sick for the rest of the school year just to avoid him.
Trying to help me, Lynne took over as we resumed our walk to school. We chatted about the upcoming summer, where we were going to work; Lynne as a candy stripper at the local nursing home, and me delivering papers, my old standby summer job.
“Oh, I get what he’s up to,” she said. “Don’t look now, but he’s obviously trying to make you jealous.”
We were about four blocks from school when he passed us, this time on the opposite side of the street, with Blondie on the console. Lynne took my arm, speeding up our pace while I kept my eyes glued to the pavement.
“If I had more courage, I’d wave,” I said, not really meaning it.
“Forget him,” she said, seething. “He’s not worth the effort.”
Lynne wouldn’t tell me until many years later that she’d given Wax what for on graduation day and that he was miserable and remorseful. But I’m getting ahead of
the story.
Fortunately, because Wax had chosen to skip school that day, I was spared hiding from him and dashing to my next classes in a frenzy. Instead, I took a deep breath and ambled to class, talking to other students. Wax’s absence enabled another junior, one who’d admired me from afar when Wax and I were a pair; I won’t even say a couple.
The boy, Chris Schmidt, approached me as I entered my last class of the day, a definite yawner; statistics. I’d noticed him over the years just because he too was a red head. Handsome and popular, his hair hadn’t paralyzed him as mine had. Nope, Chris was a hit with the opposite sex, and when he spoke to me, it was as jarring as when Wax did almost three years before.
“Philipa, can I talk to you after class?” he asked, holding the door for me.
“Okay,” I replied, my usual, dismal response.
Thinking he probably wanted to borrow my notes, it was a little shocking to find him waiting outside the door when class was over after my unenthusiastic reply. Forcing myself to smile at him, I waited.
“Would you like to get something to drink?” he asked.
“Like in the cafeteria?”
Blanching, I’d committed one of my own grievances; answering a question with a question.
“No, I was thinking we’d drive over to Blazo’s,” he answered, smiling.
Wanting to say no, my mother is waiting for me was on the tip of my tongue when Lynne appeared.
“Oh, this is my sister, Lynne,” I said. “Lynne, Chris.”
“So what do you think?” he asked, looking from Lynne to me.
This is a good time to mention that while I look like my grandfather from Brooklyn, all four of my sisters look like my father’s side of the family; tall, willowy, dark hair. Chris seemed surprised Lynne and I were related. Exchanging pleasantries gave me time to think. I didn’t want to go out with Chris. I wanted to get home and hide.
“Did I interrupt anything?” Lynne asked, an inquisitive tone to her voice.
Before I could open my mouth to say no, Chris spoke up.
“I asked Philipa to come out to Blazo’s with me for a drink,” he said. “Why don’t you come too?”
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