A couple of years ago, Dianne and I spent a weekend reading and then burning up our high school letters. Unpacking a box with my high school yearbooks, I found the journal notebook from my freshman year.
Most of the pages had been consigned to the flames, but I'd apparently also started writing in the middle of the book and those pages were intact. They could serve as perfect fodder for The Salon of Shame!
And I suppose that I'm happy to have these particular pages as they detail the days leading up to and immediately following my very first kiss :) How nice. I do wish I'd spent a little more time on some details, such as what I'd overheard that made me so positive that Paul was playing some sort of game with me. All I can remember now is overhearing him talking with Bill about me and Dianne, and that they thought we were silly little freshman...but there was more to it and that's the part I don't recall.
We were all in a play. Dianne and I were freshman; Paul was a senior. Of course, now that I'm older and I re-read the entries, I'm more inclined to believe that he may have actually liked me, even just a little. Of course, that's probably just wishful retroactive thinking. Who know what he really thought about me.
I saw Paul a couple of times after he graduated. Once the following year, I ran into him at that year's graduation ceremony and we had lunch together. Then, when I was looking for apartments for me and Dianne after we'd graduated from high school, he drove past me sitting outside one of them. We kept in touch for a little while after that, but I was dating someone at the time and eventually, when I moved back in with my mom, I lost touch with him.
But growing in the jungle of plants outside her apartment is the plant he'd given to me as a housewarming gift. A memento of someone that I liked, once upon a time.