Saturday Stories #2

If you are reading this and you know me personally, please know that it is not my intention to hurt, harm, or disrespect anyone.  These are events the way that I remember them, the way I lived them, how I felt about them. This is only about me.  Nobody else. This is my story.

I think I can.  I know I can.  I will.


Spring Fling

Okay, so let’s skip ahead through the trips to Vancouver to visit my maternal grandparents, the camping and water slides and sightseeing and endless days in our boat out on the lake and all of our other fun summer activities to the rest of the year.  Still – idealic.  I had an easy and enjoyable childhood.  My Dad had a good job, my Mum stayed home and took care of us.  We had everything we needed, almost everything we wanted, and always felt unconditionally loved.  Like I said, I cannot remember anything that wasn’t great.  Every day I hope my kids will be able to say the same thing.

I think things started to change when I was in grade eight. Unlucky 13. Once the hormones were unleashed and my parents were faced with my desire to be independent.  To make my own decisions.  My Mum has a tendency to want to control a situation (I inherited this trait!) and as I have now learned through my own experience that does not work well with hormonal teenagers (more on this later). I remember a lot of fights that got really ugly that were really only just a battle of wills. Making my lunch before I did something I wanted to do, borrowing my friend`s clothes knowing that was a no no in our house… those kinds of things.

In the spring of 1988 my life began to change.  When I look back on the differences between childhood and teenager-hood 1988 is when a lot of the big things really seemed to have happened, after that it was growing – growing up and growing into the changes that I had haphazardly inflicted upon myself.  It was the year of rebellion - sex, drinking, smoking pot… running away.

In the spring I seemed to be a bit of a magnet for boys – and I loved it.  There were a few calling my house all the time and I was crazy about a few others.  One of them being a member of the cross country running team named Tom Sendit. He was horrible to me which of course kept me coming back for more.  I went to dance with my friends and was making out with him in his best friend Ben’s truck and when he wanted to kick it up a notch I said “No.  We are not even going out.” – his response was “We are now.”  Classy and memorable.  He spent the early part of the spring I was in grade nine trying to convince me to have sex with him (which I didn’t) and getting me to do his English homework (which I did).  There was no official end to that relationship , he just stopped taking my calls and using me to do his homework.  I remember being disappointed and a little embarrassed but more because of the defeat than the loss – I was so indestructible back then.

Later on that spring, my friends and I got some beer to get drunk for another dance.  We each guzzled our six pack and went into the dance totally plastered.  I cannot believe I drank that much – one beer and I am tipsy now and I am twice the weight I was then!  Anyway, my memories of that night are vague.  I had a friend named Mark who was dancing with Ben’s sister and I approached him for… help, maybe just because he was a familiar face… and Ben’s sister suggested I go ask him to help me.  I do not remember much more about the dance (other than the throwing up).  Ben walked me home, making sure I got home safely, and then before leaving, he told me that he loved me.  He told me that if I remember him telling me that the next morning I should come to Gyro Park to watch him run.  I did and so I did.

(Aside:  My parents were away and the neighbours were keeping an eye on us.  The pot smoking, Nazereth listening, Steve King reading neighbour. I was not worried about going home.)

Wouldn’t it be a nice story if I could say “and we got married and had children and to this day I love him more and more with each passing moment” and blah blah blah – readers, that is not the case. There is so much more to tell. I lived hard and had more fun than one person should be allowed to have for the next 15 years.  I assembled stories and learned lessons.  I created a past for myself that I hope my children will not be able to claim for themselves.  I did stupid reckless things and put my life in danger.  I drank too much and did too many drugs.  So many things, that I do not want my kids to be a part of.  My poor parents.

Ironically, I have come full circle as Ben possessed, at 17, many of the qualities that I love about CH.  He was responsible, dependable, very nice and very easy – easy to understand, easy to please, easy to get along with.  There was never a hidden agenda. He did what he could for me and tried to do more.  He taught me how to drive and how I liked to be kissed. I, on the other hand stomped all over his poor heart.  He is married to a friend of mine now, they have two kids, two dogs, a nice house and seem to have a nice life – not too damaged by me!

In June, as we always did when school got out, we headed out to the lake.  I do not remember being too worried about seeing Ben.  I may have been, but it is not something that has stuck with me.  Funny how life works, isn’t it?  I was not attached to him then but I am attached to the memories I have of him now – he was there for the last of my innocence.  He held my hand during the last months of my childhood, helping me up the steps to the next stage of my life. 

As the summer progressed, Ben rode his bike out the Lake to see me.  (About 50 minutes in the car – he was on the track team and in great shape but I do not know how long that would have taken.  Too long.  TWO very steep passes.)  The second time he came out was a disaster. I had met someone else.  Someone not as nice.  Someone who would dramatically change my life.