Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Oh, and Thomas Bailey Aldrich gets credit for the poem.
2...
Memory
My mind lets go a thousand things,
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour-
'Twas noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue moon in May-
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then, pausing here, set down its load
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild rose tree.
-Thomas Bailey Aldrich
It's funny what we remember. I grew up in the same neighborhood as Marie, went to the same school, and the same church, but I don't remember much about her until that June day. And I'm sorry to say that I didn't think a whole lot about her afterwards either, at least for most of the next year.
The summer passed quickly in a haze of hot afternoons practicing on the field and long nights sneaking out to places I shouldn't have gone. In my defense, if you can call it that, I was young and wild, and thought time was on my side. School didn't matter much to me. All I wanted was my friends, a pretty girl at my side, and chance to play ball. My dad though, he made me care. At least, he made me care about the consequences if I didn't go to school.
Senior year was crazy. I was working at the Rossini's Fish Market, singing with the Dreamtones every chance I got, playing all the high school sports, hanging with my friends, and juggling the dual handful that were the Benedetti twins. I was good at juggling though, I'd been doing it my whole life.
I've probably told all of the stories a thousand times, but I always leave out one part, how a pair of dark brown eyes haunted my dreams. She was suddenly everywhere. She was the quiet girl behind me in homeroom, the cheerleader on the sidelines at every home game, the dutiful daughter who came into the fish market twice a week to get the catch of the day for her father. She was everywhere, and yet I'd never paid her any attention. I wasn't so sure that I wanted to get too close. How could one person fill you with such regret and such hope? I hated that it mattered so much what she thought of me. More than that, I hated the thought that she might be too good for me. So I stayed away and had my fun, all the while watching her from the sidelines.
It wasn't until senior prom and the big blow up with the Dreamtones that I finally allowed myself to really see her. I was sitting in a dark corner of the gym stewing in my own anger when I felt someone watching me. I looked up and there she was standing right in front of me, hands posed on her hips like she was just waiting to give me a lecture. I wasn't far off.
"Whatcha think you're doin'?"
"Huh?" She hadn't said anything to me in over a year, what was I supposed to say?
"Tony, it's our prom. Why're you sittin' in the dark, scowlin' at everyone? Because your friends are jerks and fight over stupid things? Because you're a jerk and fought with your friends over a stupid thing?"
My humiliation was complete. Everyone knew I'd blown it. She knew I'd blown it. I just shrugged and tried to look away. Marie wasn't willing to let me off that easy. Before I had a chance to react, she grabbed my hand and dragged me onto my feet. I looked down at her in amazement. For such a tiny girl, she sure had a lot of strength. I couldn't hide the smile that crept up on me. "Whatcha think you're doin'?"
"You're gonna dance. And I'm gonna dance with you. And you're gonna have fun tonight if it kills me." She had such a look of fierce determination in her eyes that I couldn't say no.
So we danced. For the first time in years, I stopped running and slowed down. It didn't hurt that the band was playing a slow dance. Walking her home in the moonlight, my hand worked its way into hers and she looked up at me with the sweetest of smiles. "Maybe you're not the only one who thinks you're hot stuff," she admitted quietly. Then she tiptoed up and kissed me. She took my breath away, and it wasn't just from passion or lust, although I could feel both in spades. There was a place deep inside of me that felt like exploding with happiness just by being near her. Was it love? Who can say anything for certain at eighteen? All I know is that it was enough, and it was the world to me.