I drew circles on his chest with the tips of my fingers. Mike kissed the top of my head.
“So did you sell your mom’s house?” Mike asked.
“I had a couple who were interested in it and they gave me an offer. But I ended up taking it off the market.”
Mike sat up and looked down at me. “Why?”
I smiled. “I figured the house is twice the size of yours and if we’re going to make a go of it, we’d need a bigger house – enough bedrooms for us and Jack and the baby.”
Mike leaned down and kissed me again and his lips trailed down my neck and chest and before I knew it we were making love once again.
Mike and I bounced down the stairs like a couple of kids. I was starving and we decided to go out for Chinese.
“There’s something I want to show you before we grab a bite to eat.” Mike said.
He pulled me by my hand to the brown, plaid couch.
“The reason I wanted this sofa is because of what it contains.”
I scratched my head. “The stuffing?”
Mike laughed. “Twenty years ago, on the night you broke up with me, I was going to give you something. I wanted to surprise you. I unzipped the cushion and stuck it in there for safe keeping.”
“Which cushion?”
“The right one. It’s still there. I checked.”
I walked over to the cushion and unzipped the back of it. There was a blue, plastic ring and two slips of paper inside a sandwich baggie. I opened the bag and took out the first note.
Gina, I love you more than anything. This ring is my promise that you’re the only girl I will ever love. I want to grow old with you and have kids with you. I hope you accept this ring as a token of my love. When I can afford it, I’ll get you a big diamond. Love, Mike
The tears came hard and heavy, “Oh Mike. This has been in that cushion all this time?”
Mike nodded. “When I saw your mom still had the couch, I checked to see if it was there when you were out of the room. I felt the plastic bag right away.”
Gina picked up the other slip of paper. “You wrote two notes?”
Mike scratched his head. “No, just one.”
I opened the other note. I recognized the floral stationery immediately. I had bought it for Mom one Christmas. “It’s from Mom.”
Mike’s jaw dropped. I read the note.
Gina, if you find this note, it’s because you were meant to. Always follow your heart, and you will never go wrong. Love you bunches and bunches, Mom
“She must have found the bag and added the note,” Mike said.
“And she never said anything,” I added. “So like her.”
I took the ring out of the bag and Mike slipped it on my finger.
“Came out of the bubblegum machine in front of the grocery store,” Mike said. “It cost a quarter, but it was worth a lot more.”
Mike got down on one knee, “Gina, I want you in my life. I’ve never stopped loving you. I want to marry you, raise our child together, if you’ll have me. Gina, will you marry me?”
My mouth quivered and I could taste the runaway tears. Everything I had ever wanted was coming true and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had found my way home. Like Mom said, I listened to my heart and it was telling me to stay.
“I thought you’d never ask,” I said. I leaned in to kiss him and the minute our lips touched I giggled.
Mike pulled back to look me in the eyes. “What are you laughing about?”
“Just remembering what I wrote in your yearbook. Do you remember?”
Mike cleared his throat. “Remember, you said you’d love me even when I’m old and wrinkled and have white hair and false teeth.”
A firework smile burst onto my face. “And do you still feel that way?”
“I’ll show you,” said Mike, wrapping his arms around me and chasing me with urgent kisses. “Oh, Gina, baby. You drive me crazy.”
He pulled away and I pulled him back.
“But what about the Chinese food?” he asked.
My lips trailed down his chest. “The moo moo gai pan can wait.”
Gina’s Classmates
Julie (Yearbook post)
Gina,
To a cool girl who always seems to be there just in case someone needs her. You are a very super person. You have never made me feel dumb and you never seem to mind that I’m not exactly a “scholar” – you talk and laugh and are friends with me anyway. We’ll have to do something together sometime. I wish you much happiness and lots of luck in whatever you do. You have a lot going for you – you are just a swell person!!! I hope we never lose touch! Have a nice summer!!
Always, Julie
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The thing I remember about Julie is her skin. She had the most beautiful skin, especially to a teenager who battled acne with a cabinet full of crap that left my skin dry and red and flaky – not smooth like hers. She had an easy smile, like a morning glory’s petals unfurling when they are kissed by a new day.
We first met in junior high social studies class. Even then she was a beauty. And it’s her beauty that attracted the guys, although they never seemed to hang around for long.
One time in high school, I found her crying in the bathroom. Her mascara ran down her pink cheeks and her hair was a tangled mess of black.
“Julie, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“Everything,” she said. “My life sucks. I’m tired of being used.”
I put my arm around her and she fell into my shoulder. “Then stop.”
She pulled back and looked at me with swollen raccoon eyes. “You just don’t get it. I’m not like you. Smart and all.”
“Don’t say that,” I said. “You just have to work a little harder. And I can help.”
The next day, I saw her with a new guy. She never called me for homework help, and we never did anything together outside of school. She ran with a different crowd that I never wanted to be a part of. The last time I saw her was at graduation. She had gone through probably a dozen guys our senior year.
I was in college when Mom called to tell me Julie was found dead in her bedroom. According to one of Mom’s golf buddies who knew the family, it was an overdose. There was no note, nothing.
Sometimes, I look back on that bathroom conversation and I wish I would have done more. Truth is it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. Julie was lost long before I found her. I never understood how so much beauty could be so ugly, how a life ends before it ever really begins.
James Robert (Yearbook post)
Gina,
Oh well, here I go again trying to think of what to write in someone’s yearbook. It just so happens that yours is the hardest. You’ve affected my life so many times and in so many ways that I don’t know what to say. You made me realize things about other people and about myself. I’ve done super stupid things that I wish I could do over, but once you do them it’s too bad. Knowing what you would do in the situation really helps me a lot because believe it or not, I know you better than I know myself. I just don’t have any confidence (sometimes) and I always expect the worst (but that’s good in some cases, because I’m ready for the worst when it does happen). As I was saying you know what you want and you stick to it, because you have a great head on your shoulders (wise and sharp looking).
The time I’ve spent with you over the past year has really been great. I know I’m probably a pain in your ass, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and aside from one incident, I’ve changed a lot. I hope you don’t change because you don’t have to (you shouldn’t). I’m starting to run out of space and I have a hundred other things to write, so I’ll sum it up and say: “You’re one hell of a friend and I hope you keep in touch with me even when you’re in your 60’s.” You’re closer to me than any one of my other friends so keep out of trouble and don’t get that pretty little head of yours into a bum situation.
Love always,
J.R.
&nbs
p; ..........................
Every time I’m home visiting my mom, I drive by the house where J.R. grew up. I loved J.R. like a brother and felt badly that I wasn’t able to love him in the way he loved me. I tried to, but it just didn’t work. Maybe I was afraid of ruining what we had. I was closer to him than I was to many of my girlfriends, and there were things that we talked about that I could never have talked about with them.
I remember our last long talk. It was the week before we both started our freshman year in college. We jumped on his cycle and went to his favorite talking spot, miles outside of town. We lay side by side on the spongy hillside, staring up at the black sky. J.R. loved coming to this spot, especially on a clear night because the stars were so bright. He always pointed out the constellations and then shared the stories behind them. It was J.R. who explained to me that the Big Dipper and Little Dipper weren’t constellations but asterisms. I was always amazed at how much he knew about totally random stuff.
That was the night that he told me that he was glad he was going away to college. That he needed to get away from me. That he just couldn’t take loving me as much as he did and seeing me with another guy. He didn’t blame me. He said it wasn’t my fault that he fell in love with someone who didn't return his feelings. But that he needed a chance to see if he could love someone as much as he loved me.
I know I shouldn’t have, but I kissed him that night. The way a girlfriend kisses a boyfriend. I needed to see how it felt, to see if maybe I was wrong. So I leaned over him and bent down to find his lips and he rolled on top of me and kissed me with so much passion I could hardly breathe. But then he stopped. Suddenly. And sat up.
“I don’t want you like this,” he said. “Don’t give me what you think I want. But if you ever want me, really, really want me, you know where I’ll be.”
When he dropped me off that night, we hugged.
“Sorry if I screwed things up,” I said.
“You didn’t screw things up. It’s just that I can’t handle feeling the way I do about you. I’ve tried so hard for the past year and I just think I need a break. It’s not you. It’s me. I need to get my head on straight. Quit wishing for something that’s never going to happen.”
It was the last time I saw J.R. It was like he went away to college and vanished. I tried finding him from time to time, but I didn’t have any luck. I always wondered if he had found someone who loved him as much as he loved me. I hoped that he found someone who loved him more.
Brad (Yearbook post)
Gina,
To one of the nicest looking girls I know. Keep up the good looks and if you’re ever free, let me know.
Brad
..........................
Dick! That’s what Brad was. I guess I should feel honored that he referred to me as nice looking. Even if someone had offered me a hundred bucks to go out with him, I wouldn’t have. The guy was a jerk with a capital J.
He thought that his GQ-ish looks entitled him to whatever girl he wanted. And, of course, most girls oohed and aahed over his defined pecs and bulging biceps. And his tight ass. Not me. I wasn’t the least bit interested, which pissed him off, I think.
He was one of the guys who used Julie and when he got tired of her, discarded her like a sweaty workout towel.
I hope he’s fat and out of shape. And ugly. Serves him right. He broke so many hearts and never once said sorry. Screw you, Brad. (That felt good.)
Karen (Yearbook post)
Gina,
You’re a real crazy girl but an awful lot of fun to be around. You can brighten anybody’s life with your smiling face. I wish you the best of luck in all your future attempts.
Love, Karen
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Karen got pregnant our senior year and had her daughter the summer after we graduated. She married the guy, who was older, but it didn’t last long. Maybe a year.
Karen was a good athlete. No matter what sport she tried she was good at it. Basketball. Softball. Tennis. You name it and she could play it – and play it well. I always thought she’d go to college to become a gym teacher. She did go to college, eventually. She worked during the day and went to school at night. She and her daughter, Sarah, lived with her parents, who helped out a lot.
It took Karen many years, but she finally earned a business degree. I guess after that she kept on going because Mom sent me a newspaper clipping announcing that she had earned her MBA.
One Christmas break, Mom and I ran into Karen at the mall. She was obviously pregnant. She introduced me to her significant other, a beautiful woman with long, silky black hair and an hour-glass figure I would die for. I must have looked surprised because Karen leaned over and whispered. “Yeah, I know, it surprises everyone. Isn’t she gorgeous?” And then she looked at Mia and smiled.
Karen patted her stomach. “And, as you can see, we’re having a baby.”
Without me asking, Karen explained that she and Mia wanted to have a child together. Karen said that since she loved being pregnant, they decided she would carry the child. But the egg was Mia’s, fertilized with donor sperm.
“So this one should look like Mia,” said Karen, casting Mia another look.
“Do you know what you’re having?” Mom asked.
“A boy,” Karen said. “We wanted a boy since we already have a daughter.”
It was definitely more information than Mom or I needed to know, but it made me smile. I had forgotten how open Karen was.
I learned that Karen met Mia while studying for her MBA and that they had been together ever since. Mia seemed nice and Karen seemed happier than I ever remember her being.
Tom (Yearbook post)
Gina,
To a real nice girl I got to know in chem and calc class. Never forget all the bad luck you had with test tubes during unknowns. Good luck with all you do in life and with that special someone.
AFA, Tom
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I hated unknowns in chemistry. The teacher would give us a substance and we’d have to run tests to determine what it was. It was a real pain in the ass. The worse thing about chem, though, was the goggles we had to wear. Talk about feeling like a complete dork. The goggles always left marks on my face, which seemed to last for hours afterward. And they messed up my makeup, which when you’re seventeen and vain is a really big deal.
Tom, on the other hand, loved chemistry. Sometimes, when the teacher wasn’t looking, he’d swap test tubes with me, figure out my unknown, and give it back to me. He always had my back in chem.
He went to college to be a pharmacist and works in my hometown. Mom sees him when she picks up her cholesterol medicine at the drug store, and she said he always asks about me. He’s not married, but Mom says she sees him walking his golden retriever in the park by the elementary school where she walks with her best friend, Judy.
Bob (Yearbook post)
Gina,
To a nice girl with a great personality. Never forget our wild homeroom. Good luck always,
Bob
..........................
Bob came to school high every morning. He reeked of weed. I asked him once why he got high before school. He said it made him feel better.
Bob was my friend. We never did anything together and he wasn’t in any of my classes, but he was the type of guy who would be the first to help you if you had a problem. He wasn’t book smart, but he was street smart. And he was good with cars. One look at the grease embedded in his nails and the black stains on his fingers told you he spent most of his time under the hood of a car.
I ran into Bob a few years after school at the grocery store. He didn’t smell like weed and he had a little boy with him.
“This is Luke,” he said. “He’s three.”
So Bob became a dad. He told me he had his own garage. He didn’t care for the business part of things, but his girlfriend took care of that. He seemed happy, and I was happy for him.
I remember s
ome of my friends asking me why I talked to a pothead. To them, Bob was from the other side of the tracks, not good enough to associate with. But I liked Bob. And, to be honest, I think that if I had ever gotten into trouble or needed help, Bob would have helped me quicker than many of them would have.
It’s true what they say about not judging a book by its cover. Sometimes the cover is tattered or maybe it’s missing altogether. That doesn’t mean what you find inside isn’t worth your time. What a shame that people couldn’t look beyond the cover to discover the Bob I had. I wonder now if they realize how foolish they had been. Maybe it would have made a difference in his life. I know it would have in theirs.
Ray (Yearbook post)
Gina,
To a nice girl I got to know better in the last year. Good luck at all your future attempts.
Ray
..........................
Ray didn’t have many friends. He was a little backward. When you spoke to him face to face, he would never look you in the eyes. He always looked at the floor. That absolutely drove me insane. I hate when people don’t look at me when I talk to them. But I understood that Ray was a little different so I tried to cut him some slack.
Ray was a gifted artist. I sat beside him in history class and he spent the entire period drawing. Mostly, he drew comic strips but he also sketched stuff he saw in class – like the wilting geranium in the clay pot sitting on the windowsill.
I tried to peek once to get a better view, but he covered his work with his arm. He didn’t like sharing his drawings. Probably didn’t want people to make fun of his work. That’s why he was mortified one day when The Palmer-nator (aka Mrs. Palmer) caught him drawing in class.
Gina & Mike (The Yearbook Series Book 1) Page 17