We were only fifteen, just floating through the slipstream.
4. "Fifteen (Oxford Remix)," Goldroom, featuring Chela, 2012.
It was Valentine's Day when we met. I'd seen him before and he'd always piqued my interest. I saw him in the hallway, always laughing and joking with friends, felt the urge to talk to him. Never did.
He told me later that we'd met before that day, in a manner of speaking. Nearly ran into one another in the school hallway the fall before, did that thing where we both step to one side, then the other, then back to the first, trying to get around one another. I remember it happening, but not that it was him. I know it was, though, because he remembered the way I giggled. I remember it, too. It came out like a squeak and I spent the next few minutes blushing about the weird sound I'd just made.
We found out eventually that I'd known of him even before that day, when he mentioned riding bus 97 with a really nice driver named Debbie.
"Oh, I had her, too!" I said.
"Well, that was years ago, for me," said Amanté.
"Me, too. Um...would have started around '97, I guess."
"What? Me, too."
And then something clicked. "You were the kid! The younger kid! Who always sat at the front of the bus and no one knew who you were and you got dropped near the elementary school every day!"
So you might say, in a way, that I've known him since just before I turned fifteen. And he's known me since just before he turned fifteen.
We were sitting at the foot of the stairwell that Valentine's morning and he said to me, "You don't talk much, do you?"
Sometimes when people say that, they mean it unkindly. Not always, but sometimes, so I just shrugged. But he persisted, slowly drawing me into conversation. It really doesn't take that long. I actually love talking to people. Nice people, anyway.
I don't have any pictures from that time, not of us. I think he may have once, but he's lost track of them.
So that's the earliest I have with us both in it. Amanté's in the background there, deep in thought. The guy in the khaki pants was a boyfriend at the time and the baby in my lap is my niece, Kaelyn, now nine. I've never seen such a snobby baby, so standoffish and particular about whom she deigned to smile at. Even as recently as a year or two ago, she was very above it all, but she seems to be improving.
And this is the earliest real picture I have of the two of us, from 2009. Haha, this picture. He has his arms around me so earnestly (and I think he's about to blink, giving him an especially doe-eyed gaze) and I look like I'm slightly pulling away and primly patting his arm in some sort of Eternal Friend Zone there-there. That wasn't the case, the picture was taken just a little too soon. And besides, I find the whole idea of a Friend Zone repellent.
Earlier this year, I remember listening to this song with him, seeing him out of the corner of my eye getting into the beat. I don't know if he caught the lyrics or not, the inherent sense of nostalgia. Always makes me think of him, though, and that spring that I first knew him. He was only fifteen.
Click to viewIt was Valentine's Day when we met. I'd seen him before and he'd always piqued my interest. I saw him in the hallway, always laughing and joking with friends, felt the urge to talk to him. Never did.
He told me later that we'd met before that day, in a manner of speaking. Nearly ran into one another in the school hallway the fall before, did that thing where we both step to one side, then the other, then back to the first, trying to get around one another. I remember it happening, but not that it was him. I know it was, though, because he remembered the way I giggled. I remember it, too. It came out like a squeak and I spent the next few minutes blushing about the weird sound I'd just made.
We found out eventually that I'd known of him even before that day, when he mentioned riding bus 97 with a really nice driver named Debbie.
"Oh, I had her, too!" I said.
"Well, that was years ago, for me," said Amanté.
"Me, too. Um...would have started around '97, I guess."
"What? Me, too."
And then something clicked. "You were the kid! The younger kid! Who always sat at the front of the bus and no one knew who you were and you got dropped near the elementary school every day!"
So you might say, in a way, that I've known him since just before I turned fifteen. And he's known me since just before he turned fifteen.
We were sitting at the foot of the stairwell that Valentine's morning and he said to me, "You don't talk much, do you?"
Sometimes when people say that, they mean it unkindly. Not always, but sometimes, so I just shrugged. But he persisted, slowly drawing me into conversation. It really doesn't take that long. I actually love talking to people. Nice people, anyway.
I don't have any pictures from that time, not of us. I think he may have once, but he's lost track of them.
So that's the earliest I have with us both in it. Amanté's in the background there, deep in thought. The guy in the khaki pants was a boyfriend at the time and the baby in my lap is my niece, Kaelyn, now nine. I've never seen such a snobby baby, so standoffish and particular about whom she deigned to smile at. Even as recently as a year or two ago, she was very above it all, but she seems to be improving.
And this is the earliest real picture I have of the two of us, from 2009. Haha, this picture. He has his arms around me so earnestly (and I think he's about to blink, giving him an especially doe-eyed gaze) and I look like I'm slightly pulling away and primly patting his arm in some sort of Eternal Friend Zone there-there. That wasn't the case, the picture was taken just a little too soon. And besides, I find the whole idea of a Friend Zone repellent.
Earlier this year, I remember listening to this song with him, seeing him out of the corner of my eye getting into the beat. I don't know if he caught the lyrics or not, the inherent sense of nostalgia. Always makes me think of him, though, and that spring that I first knew him. He was only fifteen.