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Coppertone 2
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| Coppertone 6 |
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| Dr. Nancy returned the following week. I got called to her office where she listened to my heart (I just had to unbutton my blouse, thank God) and said I could participate in cheering. As I was leaving, she asked me if there was anything that had upset me that day. I said no, sobbed, and I burst out crying. I guess I'd been holding a lot in. I wound up telling her everything. Somehow, she didn't seem all that surprised. I made very sure that I emphasized Ted's complete innocence and decency in all my dealings with him. They could string him up for something like that, I realized. I was angry with him, but I suspected much of my hostility was a defense mechanism that would fade in time. I knew I wasn't thinking too clearly, in other words. "I just have- I mean had- a wicked crush on him, Dr. Nancy. He didn't ask me to feel that way..." I dissolved into a blubbering mass of protoplasm. "Come here, Baby." She hugged me and rubbed my back. "There's nothing wrong with feeling that way about another person. It won't be the last time you do, and it won't be the last time you get hurt. But the first time is the worst. I used to be sixteen, too. I understand." She sat me down and held both my hands. "There was somebody I loved in high school and I thought I'd die when it didn't work out, but you know what? It helped me become who I am today. And I rather like who I am and what I've become, and I didn't get here by having all my dreams come true. Do you understand what I'm saying, Sweetie?" My throat ached with swallowed emotion, but I nodded with a forced smile as I blinked back tears and blew my nose. "Now for some good news. Guess what? I got married on my cruise! In Jamaica." This revelation took me by such surprise that I mislaid my anguish. "Who is... the person..." I didn't want to commit to a pronoun, as the gender choice was uncertain, what with the rumors and all. "His name is Felix. He's six foot five, black as ebony, has these snow white teeth and is the most beautiful man I have ever seen!" Dr. Nancy suddenly seemed as dippy as Wendy. It was nice to see her like that. "Well, Jeezum, I gotta see this guy," I sniffed and smiled. Her elation was rubbing off on me. "Oh, you'll see him around town. He's hard to miss!" She walked me to the door with her hand on my back. "Cheryl, if you ever want to talk about anything with me- anything- just give me a call or stop by. I don't mean this as your doctor, either. I mean this as your friend. We girls have to stick together." I told her I would, and I thanked her and left. It occurred to me that this whole interchange seemed to have Wendy's fingerprints all over it. Wendy's not dumb, really- more like a different kind of smart, one could say. The prospect of resuming relations with my dashing neighbor was something I chose not to address for the next few days. I tried to train myself to never look towards his house, but this proved an irresistible taboo, which actually stepped up my surveillance (I constantly cheated). It seemed awfully quiet over there- like they say in the old westerns, "a little too quiet". The hibachi was gone, a disconcerting portent I tried in vain to disregard. The next day, after a bitter and losing argument with myself, I walked to the intersection of Catalpa and Birch streets. There was a "for sale" sign on the lawn and the house was decidedly unoccupied. Ted was gone. I called Wendy. "Just calm down, Cheryl. I'll be right over." I would never see Ted again. He simply vanished. I could never bring myself to call Vaughan Memorial to inquire as to his whereabouts because that involved speaking his name. I'll spare you the details of the ensuing months of despair which followed, as you have no doubt shared an analogous experience; I need not tell you what a hell it is to live through. My friends, Wendy and Wyomia, and, of course, my brother helped me through this terrible period. Wyomia was very kick-ass and had little patience with my sentimentality. And she didn't get along with Wendy at all, as she had no compunction in pointing out my dippy friend's free-floating mental misfirings and was always hurting her feelings. Still, her spirit helped me through some dark times. I had a succession of three boyfriends over the remainder of my high school years. I was a lousy girlfriend to each of them. All three of them got off on the wrong foot with me by not being Ted. I had a "catch, stun, and release" policy toward these unfortunate young men. I am blessed anatomically with the exalted virtue of "tightness" and, as I had already learned from my self-gratification phase, my drive was unquenchable. All the better to torture them with; give them what they want and take it away. They put up with my crap, though, because I was a pretty cheerleader and they were, all three, gentlemen. I had better boyfriends than I deserved. I admit it. I am very ashamed of this period of my life, and I find it too painful to discuss in any greater detail than I have given it here. I hurt people who didn't deserve it (sorry, guys). Passing on crap that happens to you: I, of all people, should have known better. Chad got a girlfriend, and, yup, it was Wendy. Things got very sour with her stepfather and she practically lived with us for a few months, which was fine with Daddy. Chad went out with her for the better part of a year. A couple of months before graduation her creepy ex-boyfriend, Ian, began sniffing around. He was Wendy's blind spot. Wendy started seeing him again- innocently at first, honestly trying to establish a friendship with him. But he had grander plans; I could tell she had fallen for him again. She broke up with Chad, tearfully telling him the truth and it damn near killed him. He lost all interest in life in general and food in particular. He soaked my shoulder more than once. A lot more. I was afraid he had lost his mind, and I mean really. And he got so thin- 135 pounds is not healthy for a six-footer like Chad. I hope I didn't hurt any of my guys like that. Wendy and I remained friends, but it was hard to find time with her- and it was awkward. And, understandably, Ian didn't approve of her associating with me; I wanted her back with my brother and he knew it. We drifted apart. Love is just too damn sad. Honestly... It wasn't something I planned to try again. I passed my driving test on my second attempt on the morning of June 9, 1984 and got my license- the same day I was to graduate from high school. When I arrived home from the test, Mummy told me that the UPS guy had left me a package right after I left with Daddy for the test. Always welcome news. But then I was afraid it might be some extravagant gift from one of my jilted suitors. You know how guys are: no means maybe. The brown-wrapped package was the proverbial breadbox size and not particularly heavy. Then I saw something that set my world-weary heart to thumping. In the corner, in magic marker, there was a name and a return address. The name was T. Novak, and the address was in Oakland, California. I took the parcel into my room and closed the door. I stripped away the paper (a suspiciously competent wrapping job, I thought- men usually suck at this). Taped to the top of the box was an envelope with "READ THIS FIRST!" written in bold red marker. I opened it. Ted's miniscule and artful script read as follows: http://maxpages.com/coppertone/coppertone_7 |
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