As I sit here writing this, my hands are shaking so violently, it's almost impossible to keep the pen on the paper. My hands ache from the arthritis and my heart aches from retelling my tale. It's surprising to me that I remember at my age, but what happened to me in 1964 is something I will never forget. It was the year I moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma, the year I met my closest friends, the year I lost my closest friends and the year I met the love of my life. In aspect of the events that occurred, I am surprised that I did not lose my love that same year. I wonder why I'm writing this down if I'll never forget it, but at the age I am, it could die any day along with me, and I want it to live forever, so here I am, about to retell the tale of my life. The time spent in the neighbourhood, the time spent in Windrixville and the time spent with the gang. Here is my story;
Chapter 1
Each time I think of the car ride, I start sweating. Four hours stuck in a confined place, surrounded by luggage. Opening the window did nothing but force more hot air into the car, so I suffered for four hours. Why we were moving to Tulsa from Saginaw, I had no idea. My mother calls the move 'the beginning of a new life,' but I didn't see the reasoning behind our 'new life' beginning four hours away, but I guessed it had something to do with dad's death. Either mom didn't want to be haunted by the memory of my father, or she didn't want to be seen with my step-dad, because boy, was he a downgrade. My father was a handsome man, tall with olive skin, dark brown hair and light brown eyes. He was kind, compassionate and caring. He always put mom and I before him and did everything he could for us. My step-father Doug, on the other hand, was a short, fat, selfish slob and I hated him. It astonished me how my mother could go from a prince like my father to a peasant like Doug. I don't think I've ever hated anyone more than him and the fact that I had to live with him disgusted me. I knew he didn't make my mother happy and he sure as hell didn't have a lot of money, we never did have a lot, but I didn't get why my mother stayed with him. Maybe it was the comfort of having a partner, but the only thing he gave her was bruises. I was 16 years old in 1964. I was thankful I looked like my dad, not because my mother wasn't beautiful, she was, but because I was a living, walking memory of my dad. I had his hair, facial features and skin tone, but I had my mother's dark blue eyes. I guess you could say I changed after my father died. I had never loved anyone more in my life and having that love taken away from you is like the world collapsing upon itself. Everything you do suddenly becomes a burden, you become anxious and stressed all of the time and you feel empty. In my sixteenth year, I was an introvert. I hated talking to people and I didn't make friends easily, but I told myself that my dad wouldn't want to see me in such a depressive state, so I was trying to open myself up more.
Before we went to our new home, we had to get gas. We went to the DX, and I was dying to get out of the car, even thought the temperature wasn't much better outside than in the car.
"Do you want to go get a Coke or something, Arie?" my mother asked, turning around to look at me. Doug was outside filling the car.
"Sure." I responded, stretching out my arm to collect the money she was giving to me.
"Pay for the gas while you're in there, too." I nodded, leaving the car. I was overwhelmed by the smell of gas and the heat. One thing about me is that I used to love wearing dresses. On that day, I was wearing a bright yellow dress with a sweetheart neckline and straps that were about three fingers wide. The dress had white polkadots on it. It stopped just above the knee. My father gave it to me, so I thought today was an appropriate day to wear it. Anyways, I made my way into the store. It was a lot cooler in the store than it was outside, so I was relieved. There was a lot of girls in the store, just kind of standing around, perhaps to avoid the heat. I brought my Coke up to the counter. I remember clear as day being taken aback by the boy working the counter. He looked to be around my age. The first thing I noticed about him were his eyes. Brownish-gold, dancing with life. He had dark gold hair that was combed back and a stunning smile. He wasn't like any other boy I had seen before. I had seen good looking boys, don't get me wrong, but this boy was movie star handsome. I now knew why there was so many girls.
"That all?" he asked, ringing up my Coke.
"Ah, no," I put the gas money on the counter. "Pump three." he returned my Coke and took the rest of the money. I looked at his name tag. 'Sodapop Curtis.' Surely that couldn't be his real name.
"I don't think I've seen you here before."
"I-uh- I just moved here. I haven't even been to my house yet." I was cursing myself out in my head. I hated talking to people, I had terrible social skills, and he was beautiful, making my brain become clustered with rapid thoughts, so I was having trouble even forming logical sentences.
"My name's Sodapop." So it was his real name. He looked behind my shoulder, presumably checking to see if there was any customers behind me.
"I'm Arie." I told him. He smiled.
"That's an interesting name." And Sodapop isn't? I would've said it if I wasn't so shy. I looked behind me to see out the door. Doug was back in the car, looking impatient.
"I'd really love to stay and talk, but I should probably get going. I gotta unpack and stuff, but I'll see you in school." I said. He frowned.
"I, uh-" Before Soda could finish his sentence, I heard Doug honking the horn outside. I shut my eyes, sighed, and pointed towards the door. "See ya around." I nodded and left. Doug, of course, questioned why I was in the store so long, so I told him there was a big lineup.
"It didn't look like it." he said.
"Well, it was, I was in there, you weren't."
"Watch your mouth." he hissed. I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my Coke. Boy, did I want to see Soda again, but a guy like him couldn't be single. He was attracting girls to the store like flies to honey. I was praying that we had classes together, so I was actually looking forward to Monday. If I couldn't have Soda, I could at least try and become friends with him. My first half an hour in Tulsa, Oklahoma and I already had a mission to accomplish.