A Brief Story of A High School Relationship

I had a journal that I started writing in my creative writing class that I took my senior year of high school. I really didn’t like the teacher, but I did like that the class forced me to write in a journal again, after a hiatus of a couple of years. I tried to be more “creative” with my journal entries by telling stories about what had happened to me. Here’s one of them. It’s a bit jumbled, but it might make sense to you. Maybe. Only a handful of you, though, will know what LIBWSE stands for. Do you remember?

7/4/99

I laughed. My laughing did not fit the mood. I knew others were looking at and judging me while they continued singing. I knew, while I was fighting for control over my laughter, that Drew was looking at me while conducting the other singers. I could not look up. I could not meet his eyes. That was Sunday; after Thursday.
Four-thirty, Thursday afternoon, finally reads on the small clock on the table. The last parent collects her little boy and I collect my bag and damp towel. I push the heavy glass doors open and step from the air-conditioned fort into the heat of the first day of July. I am exhausted. Climbing the cement steps to the parking lot takes too much effort. Across the emptying lot, I see my car sitting alone. Something on the windshield catches me eye. Instantly, my thoughts flash through two previous memories:

Was it the end of the first day of work? Walking out with two older counselors, Shannon and Lisa, I listen to them talk. Lisa arrives by her car first. She also arrives by a flower and note tucked in between her windshield and wiper. She pulls them off, smiling, and I continue on, feeling jealous.

Earlier, that same Thursday, starting July, I pulled into the lot and Lindsey’s car, driven by Lindsey, parks next to me. It will only remain for half the day.

I hope that it is a flower or flowers, but thinking more logically, I guess it is a “present” Linds left me of garbage. All I can make out as I approach is that there is clear plastic. So, I don’t stop walking until I step up beside my car and glance over. There, wrapped in clear plastic and white tissue paper sits a flower. I leave it, unlock the car and throw my bag and towel in the back seat. Then, I grab the gift revealing a note. Scrawled on a small, ripped-off paper is a message: “LIBWSE – Drew.” I smile, glancing around the parking lot to see if anyone, especially Drew, is in sight. Seeing no one, I jump in my car and drive off to Lindsey’s afternoon workplace. She will be jealous.

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2 comments

  1. “Garbage?” I never left garbage on your car. Or do you mean your cuz… you do have a cousin named Lindsey, right?

    I am so confused.

    And I am one of the few who do know what LIBWSE means.

    Like

    1. Yeah, it’s a confusing story because it’s not well written, but perhaps it’s proof that my college degree actually taught me to write well. Perhaps.
      It was you who I’d thought would leave something on my car. Don’t ask me why. I had no prior experience with you leaving garbage for me anywhere. I was strange back then, though. Something you would agree with.
      Glad you remember LIBWSE 🙂

      Like

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