I have known Jamie Sullivan since I the first day of kindergarten. I remember being fascinated by the way she bowed her head and prayed over her cookies and juice. When I inquired as to what she was doing she replied simply, "Saying grace." as if it was something every five year old did. I watched her perform this ritual every day before snack. A few weeks later my curiosity got the best of me and I spoke to her again.
"Does God ever answer you?"
"Sometimes." Apparently she wasn't much of a conversationalist.
That night I sat on the edge of my bed, folded my hands, and prayed. I waited with my eyes squeezed shut, expecting the heavens to open up. Nothing happened. In that moment I made up my mind about two things - there was no such thing as God, and Jamie Sullivan was absolutely crazy.
Although Jamie and I were in the same class every year, our paths seldom crossed. When they did, I am ashamed to say I used the opportunity to utter a blunt remark, or make her the object of my latest joke. At recess she could be found sitting on a swing reading. Sometimes she read the Bible, sometimes a novel. In fourth grade my friends and I took to calling her Saint Jamie and sending the kickball across the blacktop in her direction. She would always return it to us, and smile coyly, as if she was in on some kind of secret that the rest of the world didn't know about. To tell the truth I think we were more annoyed by her than she was by us.
Jamie made sure everyone in the class got a Christmas card and a valentine each year, regardless of their social status. She sat in the front of the classroom by choice, and raised her hand to answer every question. She was quiet, but smiled at everyone she walked by and used her allowance to buy toys for the orphans. Jamie was the type of person who adults loved and kids hated, if they even noticed her at all.
By high school Jamie hadn't changed much. She still carried her Bible in her backpack and she could be found perusing the gospels during lunch. Despite the fact that Jamie was in all honors classes, we still had the same homeroom and lunch, and I often found her in many of my electives. She had a habit of wearing the same green sweater every day, and it was the object of many jokes between my friends and I. Her list of extra-curricular activities was one any college would love. She sang in the church choir, participated in the drama club and Red Cross, and tutored disadvantaged children every weekend.
It is in the second semester of senior year where my story really starts. You may find it hard to believe, but at the time I didn't care about my classes or GPA. My weekends were spent partying and my weekdays were spent by planning the next party. In class, I sat in a back corner goofing off with my friends, if I even bothered to show up at all.
I was headed nowhere fast, and I honestly don't know where I would have ended up had it not been for that fateful Friday night. My friends and I had a sort of initiation ritual - jumping off the water tower at the cement factory. It was no big deal, we had all done it, but Clay Gephardt was the first to find the pipe in the shallow water of the lake. He fractured his spine and probably would have died if I hadn't pulled him out of the water. When the police showed up, my friends all managed to make a getaway, I was the only one arrested. I was sentenced to community service - tutoring underprivileged students, joining the janitorial staff...and the spring musical. At the time I thought my sentence could not have been worse. In retrospect, I don't know where I would be if I had not participated in that spring musical. That's where I finally realized that there was more to Jamie Sullivan than I had given her credit for.
I had never been kind to the members of the drama club, and I was not surprised that Jamie was the only one willing to drive me home after practice. She told me about the to do list she had made for her life, and of course I couldn't help interjecting with snide remarks. Anyone else would have pulled the car to the side of the road, opened the door, and kicked me out. But not Jamie. She just smiled sweetly and kept driving.
A few days later I approached her in school and asked her to help me learn my lines. She agreed on one condition - she made me promise not to fall in love with her. It is the only promise I made to her that I have ever broken.
I remember the first time I arrived at her house after school. I rang the doorbell impatiently, embarrassed to be seen standing on her front porch. As we rehearsed day after day, it became apparent that acting was not one of my strong suits, but Jamie worked with me and never complained. I admit that I could have been kinder to her over those first few weeks, but Jamie was patient and forgiving, and as time passed I was surprised to find that I enjoyed spending time with her. Jamie saw something in me that no one else did. She believed in me long after everyone else had given up.
Our weeks of preparation finally came to a close on March 1, 2002. I sat backstage on opening night, wondering if I would be the downfall of the play. Needing reassurance I searched the halls for Jamie, I was informed by our drama teacher, Miss Garber, that she would be arriving late. As the curtain went up, I quickly forgot about Jamie, until she appeared on stage in Act II, scene 4. I was in the middle of a line, and my voice caught in my throat when I saw her out of the corner of my eye. Her hair fell across her shoulders in glossy curls and her blue satin gown grazed the floor as she walked towards me. As beautiful as she was, it was her voice that I remember most about that night. When she began to sing a lump formed in my throat. The sound that flowed from her lips was indescribably sweet and melodic, second only to a choir of angels. At that moment I fell in love with Jamie Sullivan.
When the song ended, the audience exploded into a thunder of applause, but I saw only Jamie. As the curtain went down, I finally conceded to what my heart had been telling me for weeks, and leaning across the table, I kissed her.
After the play was over, my life returned to normal. However, Jamie's absence in my life was conspicuous, and over the passing weeks, I could not get her off my mind. My friends must have noticed, as they became especially malicious towards her. One afternoon she was particularly hurt, and I found myself driving her home from school. Parking the car in front of her house I spoke the words that had been running through my mind for the past ten minutes, maybe even the past month, and asked her to dinner. She declined, as she was not allowed to date. After watching her disappear through her front door, I immediately drove to church where I presented my case to her father. After much deliberation and an infallible argument on my part, he conceded.
I found myself spending my Friday nights attempting to cross of items on Jamie's to do list. The smile on her face after being in two places at once was worth the two-hour drive to the state line. I even gave her a temporary tattoo, which after applying, I prayed her father wouldn't notice. We spent our time at the pier talking about God, or stargazing in the cemetery, where Jamie showed me a plethora of stars and distant galaxies. Jamie not only showed me how to dance and locate the Milky Way, she showed me how to live. I was in love, and I felt like I was on top of the world.