(no subject)
So earlier this month a I get an email from this kid, Michael, that I met three years ago at this stupid summer camp my parents made me attend. He tells me for a college english final he was assigned to write an essay on someone he thinks is cool but it can't be a clebrity or close friend. He picked me. He asked if I'd meet him and answer some questions for the interview part of the essay. I ended up doing it for him even though I always thought he was strange and today he sent me a copy of it and told me he got a B on it. It's kind of insulting.
When asked to write someone I thought was “cool” I was perplexed. When I read it couldn’t be a celebrity, musician or close friend I drew a complete blank. What did “cool” even mean? Then I remembered a girl I knew once. Elaina, she was quiet, beautiful and above all mysterious.
Why is Elaina “cool’? The story starts three years ago at a summer camp in northern New York. I spotted here in my first 10 minutes at camp. She was tragically out of her element and it was obvious. She was only thirteen years old with a golden tan and perfectly straight hair. Her clothes looked expensive and her eyes looked empty. I gawked at her for what seemed like hours but realistically was only minutes. I was gawky and messy. My clothes, wrinkled and mass produced. I always has a way of knowing people just by looking at them or watching them and I knew immediately that this girl wasn’t as perfect as her looks suggested and I made it a goal that summer to get to know her a little.
It seemed as if everyone had noticed her and by the end of our first week of camp I still hadn’t spoken to her. However, through rumors and passed notes I knew a lot more about her. Although what I knew didn’t seem to hold much truth. She was from the city. Her parents were rich. Her mother was dead. Her father was dead. She lived alone. She lived in Paris. Her brother was in jail. She had been in jail. She was on drugs. She was in the witness protection program. She was a millionaire, a billionaire. I just thought she was lonely. I had been watching her the whole week and she was always alone and always looked sad and empty.
Our first conversation was in the third week of camp. I introduced myself and she told me her name. He was cold and standoffish but I understood since she had been getting bothered by some of the kids. I was persistent and for the last 10 days of camp we were inseparable. I learned a lot about her in that short time. I learned that she did indeed have a mother and father who were alive and well and very rich. She fascinated me. She seemed to have everything. She had everything I wanted. She was shy and humble and embarrassed to talk about herself. She had brother and a sister. They were both older and from what she said they were both trouble makers. She went to private school and her parents sent her to camp because they thought it would do her good to associate with normal children.
We kept in touch online for about two years after camp. Eventually we just stopped talking. She became slightly jaded as she got older. She was having sex and doing drugs and she was lonely. Her father was always away on business and her mother always away reliving her youth. She had no guidance and felt no love from her family. I always felt the need to save her but she couldn’t be saved. She just had to be herself and she had to learn and I had to step away from this beautiful complex girl. This girl who I told should be a model to learn that she had been as a child and she hated it and she hated herself. She hated her life and her money and her looks and she hated me and I loved her.
Writing this essay made me think about Elaina a lot (too much). I decided to contact her and she if she’d let me interview her. I did this mostly just to talk to her again and little bit for the extra credit. She agreed to do it even when I told her my essay was completely honest and not always nice. She told me I had to send her a copy. She didn’t care what I said she just wanted to know.
I met her on a Sunday in June. She picked the place, Serendipity 3, a trendy restaurant in New York City. She was wearing ripped blue jeans, black flip-flops, and a black hooded sweatshirt with that said “New York” across the chest. She looked thinner, taller and older. Her green eyes empty, darkened by eyeliner and experience. Her lips curved down into a frown and she looked straight into my eyes as I sat across from her. She was silent and I spoke first.
Michael: Hello, how are you?
Elaina: I’m well.
(The waiter interrupts us. She orders a frozen hot chocolate and I get the same.)
Elaina: The frozen hot chocolate is good. It’s what this place is known for.
Michael: Great. Can I ask you some of the questions I have ready now?
E: Sure, this is strange.
M: Yea it must be. When we first met you seemed embarrassed to talk about yourself and mostly your financial situation, tell me why.
E: Wow, professional... My financial situation? (She laughs a bit sarcastically.) Well, I have to be careful I guess. I’ve learned that a lot of times people will be my friend because my dad has money. Also, if I go up to someone and I’m like “Hey guess what I have!” I’ll come off looking arrogant and bitchy. Other than that I’ve just never liked to talk about myself, there isn’t much to say.
M: How are you brother and sister doing? What are their names and ages.
E: Jacqulene is 18. A few weeks ago she packed her bags and left. She hasn’t returned my calls and no one has really heard from her at all. Emerson is 17. He’s not going to school and he’s always in trouble but for the most part he’s doing all right and I think in the end things will be okay with him.
M: What about your relation ship with your parents?
E: It’s terrible as always. My mother is the same as she’s always been. She’s wishes she’d never had kids, she wishes he was young again. She is never home and she spends money constantly. At least she’s consistent though. My father came to me a week or so ago and confessed that he’s had a second family for years. A “wife”, kids, house, dog, everything. He told me he wanted to live with them and he wanted me to come. I told him no, I told him he was crazy and I stayed here. I loved him though and I miss him and I was really hurt.
M: I’m sorry to here that. What’s been going on with you?
E: I graduate high school soon and in the fall I start at NYU. I haven’t decided on a major and I’m feeling nervous about it but I think it’ll be ok. Other than that everything has been pretty much the same. My life is boring. I got a new car. I’m looking forward to summer on long island. I’m happy most of the time.
M: (The waited takes our plates away and we sit quiet for a minute to two.) Those were really the only questions I wanted to ask you.
E: Well, that was easy. (She half smiles and avoids eye contact.)
M: It was really nice to see you again.
E: You too. (She starts to stand up and gather her things.)
M: I pay for our food and she’s already left.
I leave still wondering what “cool” is and how this girl who is so cool can be so troubled. I leave satisfied and feeling good about myself and I feel good about her too. Even though she isn’t perfect she does seem like she all right. She is smart and pretty and she’ll go far. I still love her, or at least the idea of her and the fragility of her. I hope to see her again someday.
When asked to write someone I thought was “cool” I was perplexed. When I read it couldn’t be a celebrity, musician or close friend I drew a complete blank. What did “cool” even mean? Then I remembered a girl I knew once. Elaina, she was quiet, beautiful and above all mysterious.
Why is Elaina “cool’? The story starts three years ago at a summer camp in northern New York. I spotted here in my first 10 minutes at camp. She was tragically out of her element and it was obvious. She was only thirteen years old with a golden tan and perfectly straight hair. Her clothes looked expensive and her eyes looked empty. I gawked at her for what seemed like hours but realistically was only minutes. I was gawky and messy. My clothes, wrinkled and mass produced. I always has a way of knowing people just by looking at them or watching them and I knew immediately that this girl wasn’t as perfect as her looks suggested and I made it a goal that summer to get to know her a little.
It seemed as if everyone had noticed her and by the end of our first week of camp I still hadn’t spoken to her. However, through rumors and passed notes I knew a lot more about her. Although what I knew didn’t seem to hold much truth. She was from the city. Her parents were rich. Her mother was dead. Her father was dead. She lived alone. She lived in Paris. Her brother was in jail. She had been in jail. She was on drugs. She was in the witness protection program. She was a millionaire, a billionaire. I just thought she was lonely. I had been watching her the whole week and she was always alone and always looked sad and empty.
Our first conversation was in the third week of camp. I introduced myself and she told me her name. He was cold and standoffish but I understood since she had been getting bothered by some of the kids. I was persistent and for the last 10 days of camp we were inseparable. I learned a lot about her in that short time. I learned that she did indeed have a mother and father who were alive and well and very rich. She fascinated me. She seemed to have everything. She had everything I wanted. She was shy and humble and embarrassed to talk about herself. She had brother and a sister. They were both older and from what she said they were both trouble makers. She went to private school and her parents sent her to camp because they thought it would do her good to associate with normal children.
We kept in touch online for about two years after camp. Eventually we just stopped talking. She became slightly jaded as she got older. She was having sex and doing drugs and she was lonely. Her father was always away on business and her mother always away reliving her youth. She had no guidance and felt no love from her family. I always felt the need to save her but she couldn’t be saved. She just had to be herself and she had to learn and I had to step away from this beautiful complex girl. This girl who I told should be a model to learn that she had been as a child and she hated it and she hated herself. She hated her life and her money and her looks and she hated me and I loved her.
Writing this essay made me think about Elaina a lot (too much). I decided to contact her and she if she’d let me interview her. I did this mostly just to talk to her again and little bit for the extra credit. She agreed to do it even when I told her my essay was completely honest and not always nice. She told me I had to send her a copy. She didn’t care what I said she just wanted to know.
I met her on a Sunday in June. She picked the place, Serendipity 3, a trendy restaurant in New York City. She was wearing ripped blue jeans, black flip-flops, and a black hooded sweatshirt with that said “New York” across the chest. She looked thinner, taller and older. Her green eyes empty, darkened by eyeliner and experience. Her lips curved down into a frown and she looked straight into my eyes as I sat across from her. She was silent and I spoke first.
Michael: Hello, how are you?
Elaina: I’m well.
(The waiter interrupts us. She orders a frozen hot chocolate and I get the same.)
Elaina: The frozen hot chocolate is good. It’s what this place is known for.
Michael: Great. Can I ask you some of the questions I have ready now?
E: Sure, this is strange.
M: Yea it must be. When we first met you seemed embarrassed to talk about yourself and mostly your financial situation, tell me why.
E: Wow, professional... My financial situation? (She laughs a bit sarcastically.) Well, I have to be careful I guess. I’ve learned that a lot of times people will be my friend because my dad has money. Also, if I go up to someone and I’m like “Hey guess what I have!” I’ll come off looking arrogant and bitchy. Other than that I’ve just never liked to talk about myself, there isn’t much to say.
M: How are you brother and sister doing? What are their names and ages.
E: Jacqulene is 18. A few weeks ago she packed her bags and left. She hasn’t returned my calls and no one has really heard from her at all. Emerson is 17. He’s not going to school and he’s always in trouble but for the most part he’s doing all right and I think in the end things will be okay with him.
M: What about your relation ship with your parents?
E: It’s terrible as always. My mother is the same as she’s always been. She’s wishes she’d never had kids, she wishes he was young again. She is never home and she spends money constantly. At least she’s consistent though. My father came to me a week or so ago and confessed that he’s had a second family for years. A “wife”, kids, house, dog, everything. He told me he wanted to live with them and he wanted me to come. I told him no, I told him he was crazy and I stayed here. I loved him though and I miss him and I was really hurt.
M: I’m sorry to here that. What’s been going on with you?
E: I graduate high school soon and in the fall I start at NYU. I haven’t decided on a major and I’m feeling nervous about it but I think it’ll be ok. Other than that everything has been pretty much the same. My life is boring. I got a new car. I’m looking forward to summer on long island. I’m happy most of the time.
M: (The waited takes our plates away and we sit quiet for a minute to two.) Those were really the only questions I wanted to ask you.
E: Well, that was easy. (She half smiles and avoids eye contact.)
M: It was really nice to see you again.
E: You too. (She starts to stand up and gather her things.)
M: I pay for our food and she’s already left.
I leave still wondering what “cool” is and how this girl who is so cool can be so troubled. I leave satisfied and feeling good about myself and I feel good about her too. Even though she isn’t perfect she does seem like she all right. She is smart and pretty and she’ll go far. I still love her, or at least the idea of her and the fragility of her. I hope to see her again someday.