NaNoWriMo -- Day 8

I miss my son with all my heart.  I wish he would come home to visit us more.  I got him home for Christmas and it was so wonderful, just like old times.  I don't know why he wouldn't come home for the summer.  I guess he's just so dedicated to his studies.  I told his father that I wished he would come home.  "Give the boy his freedom," was the answer I got.  So I do, I really do my best.  But it's hard for a mother to watch her oldest child fly away from the nest and not want to come home.  I always tried to be a good mother to him.  Maybe I was too devoted to him.  Maybe I needed to encourage him to grow wings sooner.  But then were would I be?  Then I'd just have fewer memories of him and he would have left anyway!

I hope he is doing well.  I call him once a month to check up on him.  He seems to enjoy talking to me, as much as any son can enjoy talking to his mother.  I know I embarrass him sometimes, but that's what mothers are for.  I try to get his sisters to call him.  One of them wrote him letters the first couple months.  She's old fashioned like that.  But then she gave up.  Not that he didn't write back.  He's a good boy, so of course he wrote back.  She just got bored of it and gave up.

Oh, well.  I'm sure he'll come home when the time is right.  It just frets a mother so to think about her only son, her eldest son, out there in the world without her love and protection.  But then, he always has my love, no matter how far away he might be.  I pray with all my heart that he knows that.  I'm sure he does.

-----

Thursday night is my night to call my dad.  The beginning of the semester, I never missed a week.  Once I started getting more homework and tests, I missed a week here and there, but I think I did a pretty good job overall.  I admit it; I'm a daddy's girl.  I suppose it tends to end up that way without a mother around.

When I call, he always wants to know all about how I'm doing and how I'm enjoying classes and of course if I've met any new friends.  I tell him that my favorite class is English Literature and that I've met several new friends, including a deaf girl in my sign language club.  Her name's Jamie and she's amazing.  She paints and does gymnastics.  Dad begrudgingly asks how Bridget's doing and I say, "She's been doing pretty good" or "She's probably out partying" or "She finally got accepted into a sorority."

"Good for her," dad will say, but I think he's just glad that I've broadened my horizons beyond Bridget.

Eventually, dad starts asking about boys.  I had a few crushes in high school, but I never really dated anyone.  I had dates for dances and stuff, but no steady relationship.  I blush and say, "Daaad!"

I don't want to talk about boys with my father.  These are the times when I really miss having a mom.  I do know I can talk to Bridget about boys, but I don't tell my dad that.  The truth, though, is that there isn't much to talk about.  The teaching assistant for my math class is cute, but a little nerdy, but I don't think we're allowed to date teaching assistants anyway.  There are a couple boys in my dorm I'd consider going out with, but I'm not interested enough to make a move myself.  Bridget, of course, when we do talk about boys, says there are lots of options down at the frats.  She knows that's not my scene, but she likes to tease me about it anyway.  But yeah, I figured I don't have to go looking for a boy.  The right one will find me eventually, just like my dad found my mom.  Such a beautiful story of how they met.  I want a story like that to tell my children one day, too.

-----

Dude, picking up sorority chicks is way harder than I thought.  They all just wrinkle their noses at me and are all like, "As if!"  It's like something straight out of that "Clueless" movie that I've never seen.  I wish I could get Brady to come with me down to the sorority houses, or at least to a frat party, but he keeps saying that isn't his scene.  He'd rather study that party.  Lame!  I sure could use a wing man here.

Well, I suppose the nice thing about not having Brady around is that the girls are forced to look at me.  Brady is a decent looking guy and I wouldn't want any of the girls getting distracted.  I've got a lot to offer if they'd just give me a chance.  Lizzy realized I was a fun guy.  Too bad she's not in a sorority.  If she were, maybe I could date her again, but I'm committed to landing a sorority chick this year!

-----

I really wish Chris would come to these frat parties with me.  That girl needs to loosen up and have some fun!  Let her hair down once in a while, ya know?  The guys here are hilarious.  They're always hitting on me.  Well, some of them just hit on everyone.  There's this one guy, I don't think he's even in a frat, who has long hair and wears shorts even though winter is coming up fast.  He looks a little like a hippie, and I think he might actually be that "hippie" dude Chris and I ran into during that first week of class.  I wonder if he's still running from that girl who was chasing after him.  I've been very tempted to ask him, but whenever he comes over to talk to me, I just can't resist wrinkling up my nose and saying "As if!" instead.  Maybe one of these times, I'll actually say something else.  I do like to reward persistence and he's actually kind-of cute.  There are all these rules about sorority sisters dating certain frat guys and not others and it's all so confusing that maybe getting a guy who likes to come to the parties but isn't actually in a fraternity would be perfect!

-----

There's this one girl in particular who's really starting to drive me crazy.  I've probably talked to her a dozen times and she always listens and then just wrinkles up her nose, rolls her eyes, and snubs me at the end.  I think she must just be playing hard to get.  She's not the prettiest girl here, but she's the most intriguing.  I think she's the one I'm going to land this year.  She goes to lots of the parties, so I know she likes to have a good time.  Plus, I like a challenge, especially after Lizzy.  Lizzy was just too easy.

Now, I've tried nearly every cheesy and not so cheesy line I know on this girl.  I've gone with "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" to just asking her if I can get another drink for her to trying to make small talk about how great the party is to telling her "I think we'd have great chemistry, and as a chemistry major, I should know."  She just keeps rolling her eyes, but I catch her looking back in my direction every now and then.  I think she just wants to put on a show in front of her sisters.  If I could get her alone, or at least somewhere a little more private, I'm sure she'd come around.

-----

That hippie guy was at the party again last night.  He's really starting to grow on me, but I didn't want to give in too easily, so I gave him a hard time like I usually do, but I was pretty sure he caught me looking towards him later in the night, so I figured it was as good a night as any to give in.  So I let him sweat it out for a few more hours and then as the night was winding to a close, I walked over to him and finally held out my hand to him.  "I'm Bridget," I said.

He actually looked disappointed.  "Oh, okay," he said.

I couldn't believe it.  This guy had been hitting on me for weeks and now he's going to snub me.  I don't think so.  "I don't think so!" I said.

He burst out laughing.  "Bridget, dude, you need to relax!" he exclaimed.

"Uh!  Don't tell me to relax!"

He just laughed even more and shook his head.  "Maybe you're not for me, after all," he said.  "I liked you better when you didn't talk to me."

My jaw just dropped.  What an ass!  But then I looked into his green eyes and though I saw a spark of something.  Was he playing me?  No time like the present to find out.  I grabbed him by his hippie pink shirt collar and planted a wet one right on his lips.  I felt him tense up and then relax.  I knew he liked it.  I knew he wanted it.  I pulled away.  "How do you like that, dude?" I asked.

He held his finger up to my lips.  "Better when you aren't talking," he said.

"Uh!"

He laughed.  "Okay, okay, I'm willing to listen to you talk," he said, "if you do it over the phone."

I eyed him suspiciously.  "Are you asking for my phone number?" I asked.

"We have a winner!" he taunted.

"Yeah, it's you," I said, still sneering.  But I took out a pin, grabbed his hand, and wrote my number on it.  "Don't go doing something inappropriate with that now," I said.

He held his hands up in surrender.  "Wouldn't dream of it, dude," he said.

I decided to smile at the end, just to show him I actually did like him.  Or did I?  "Talk to you later," I said and sauntered away.  I could help but glance over my shoulder.  He was watching me go, of course, and when he saw me look back, he smiled and waved at me.  I scoffed, rolled my eyes, and turned back and smiled to myself.  Okay, I actually did like him.

-----

I do like a challenge.  I got Lizzy with a compliment an Bridget with an insult.  Girls are just crazy.  Dude, Brady is really missing out.

NaNoWriMo -- Day 7

Over that first summer, between freshman and sophomore year, I decided I wasn't quite ready to go back home to the farm.  I had actually made it back home that previous Christmas.  It felt foreign to me.  It was nice to see my mom and my sisters, and even my father to some degree, but I felt like I didn't really belong there anymore.  College was where I belonged.  So I stayed on through the summer.

I got a job at the bookstore and took some summer classes.  I settled on declaring my major as World History, with a minor in economics.  I helped with a freshman summer orientation program, something I hadn't even known existed when I came here.  There was this one girl in the program who seemed pretty sweet, but RAs weren't allowed to date the freshmen, so nothing came of it.  I don't even remember her name now.  She was just a fleeting memory.

Zach was not a fleeting memory, and Lizzy was certainly not a fleeting memory for him.  Over the summer, I realized the thing I missed most about home was the animals, so I got a beta fish for my dorm room (we weren't allowed to have much else in the dorms).  I named the fish Steve.  When Zach returned (my roommate once again), he missed Lizzy, or at least he missed having a girl hanging around, so one of the first things he said to me after the pleasantries about how was my summer was, "I'm gonna date a sorority girl this year."

I laughed.  I had missed Zach.  "What is it with you an sorority girls?" I asked.

"What?  I don't have a thing for sorority girls," he insisted.

"I think you do," I said.

He shrugged.  "Well, so what if I do.  I'd better have a thing for them if I'm going to date them."

"Hopefully a thing for just one of them," I said.

He smiled and nodded.  "Of course," he said.  "I'm not an animal."  Then he winked at me and turned back towards the door.  "I think I'm going to go for a walk," he said.

"You just got here," I exclaimed with a laugh.  "You're barely even unpacked."

He looked around the room.  "Dude, I'm not unpacked at all," he said, "but still, it's a nice day for a walk.  You wanna come or not."

I shook my head.  "Nah, I've still gotta pick one more class to fill up my schedule."

He shook his head right back at me.  "Dude, you haven't changed one bit," he said.  "You've gotta have some fun!  Don't take life so seriously!"  And with that he was off.

I sat down at my computer and started to browse the course catalog.  About thirty minutes later, I had just chosen my final course (American Sign Language I), when Zach came bursting back in the room gasping for breath.  "Dude!" he exclaimed.  "You will never believe who I saw on campus!"

"Your mom?" I guessed, spinning around in my chair to face him.

He almost laughed, but then he leaned over with his hands on his knees, still trying to catch his breath and said, "Dude, this is serious.  I saw Lizzy!"

I shrugged.  "So?  Maybe she's going to school here now.  You guys left things on good terms.  It shouldn't be a problem."

"It shouldn't," he said, "but I think it is."

"Why?"

"I ran away from her, dude."

"What?  You mean before, when you broke up?"

"No, dude, just now.  I'm not even certain she saw me, but she started to look my way and I panicked."

"Zach, are you pulling one over on me again, like when we first met her."

He stood up straight, finally starting to regain his breath and shook his head.  "No dude, I swear."  He held his hands out palms up in a show of transparency.  "I don't know what came over me.  I just saw her and ran."

I was silent for a moment and then asked, "Did you want her to chase after you?"

Two beats and then he said, "Dude, I have no idea."

-----

I have no idea why Zach ran away from me when he saw me, but what was I supposed to do, just pretend I didn't notice him?  Of course I ran after him!  It didn't even matter if I had been there looking for him or not.  What matters is that he had no reason to run from me.  We could have had a perfectly fine adult conversation, exchanged pleasantries and all, or we could have just ignored each other.  But to run away from your ex-girlfriend who never even gave you any sort of a hard time for breaking up with her?  Who does that?  So of course I ran after him.

Unfortunately, I lost him, even though that nice but confused looking girl tried to help me out.  Well, I guess that's assuming she did point in the right direction.  She very easily could have lied.  How would I know?  But why would she do that?  But then again, why would Zach run away from me?

Oh well, I'm sure I'll see him again.  I know he's not that into art, so it's doubtful I'll see him in class, but I'm bound to run into him somewhere.  And then we can talk.  And if he decides he wants to kiss and make up, that would be fine by me.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, I'm taking an art history class this semester.  I'm not a full time student, don't have the time or inclination for that, but I entered a contest this summer and won the chance to audit a course at the college for free.  I think they're trying to get adults interested in continuing their education or something.  The funny thing was, this wasn't even a pageant.  It was just a random drawing.  There were 10 winners, but still, I was one of them.  I just wanted to tell Zach.  I thought he'd be happy for me.

Okay, yes, so I was looking for Zach.  What other reason would I have to be in the residential part of campus?  That's why it hurt all the more when he ran away from me.  The jerk.  I still don't know what he was thinking.  I suppose he probably wasn't thinking at all.  That's so like a man.  Just run away.  It's like my... No I'm not going there.  It isn't like that.  Zach isn't like that at all.  He was always good to me.  He must just be having a crazy day.  I'll blame it on his crazy spontaneous nature and catch up with him another time.  I'm sure there will be time.

-----

Time is one thing there never seems to be enough of.  When it comes to time spent with Alyse, there really never seemed to be enough.  We spent every moment we could together, and I still couldn't get enough of her.  Our engagement was pretty short, but during its duration, her writing career seemed to pick up, leaving her with little time for planning.  It's pretty rare that a man is forced to make some of the key decisions for his wedding, but I was that man.  Of course, Alyse was still a big part of it all.  It was exciting, watching her shine with more and more anticipation each time I saw her as the big day approached.  The one thing I had nothing to do with, naturally, was the picking of her wedding dress.  I tried with all my might to get her to drop hints to me about it, but she wouldn't even confirm whether it was all white or had touches of another color!  She was such a tease about it, and I loved every minute.

I love Alyse with all my heart.  She's deeply ingrained in my soul even now, and I will never stop loving her.

NaNoWriMo -- Day 6

Lizzy was something else, to say the least.  When it came to spontaneity, she and Zach were certainly a perfect match.  She'd come over to the dorms after work and sit on the floor leaning up against the wall beneath the window sill, headphones on with music blaring so loud I could hear it across the room, with her sketch pad drawing drawings that she never showed to anyone including Zach.  Then Zach would say, rather loudly so she could hear him over the music, "Hey, wanna go get a banana split at Dairy Queen?" or "Wanna go throw bread at squirrels?" or "Wanna drive around campus guessing what sorority chicks belong to?"

Lizzy would pull down her headphones, smirk at him, and say something she thought was terribly clever like, "I'd rather go to the hardware store and get screwed."

Zach would laugh, tell her to grab her keys, and off they'd go.  Oh yeah, Lizzy had a car, too.  Gone were the days of Zach forcing me to go along on his little adventures.  On the surface, I acted relieved that I would have more peace and quiet alone in our room to study.  Truth be told, I was a little jealous of all the attention Lizzy was now getting from Zach.  I mean, driving around campus guessing what sorority chicks belong to?  That's not an activity a guy takes his girlfriend off on.  That's an activity for men.  But then again, I was never really clear on what Zach and Lizzy's relationship really was.  I never saw them kiss or even hold hands.  Zach always referred to their outings as "dates", but never actually called her his girlfriend.  She was always just "Lizzy."  And as much as she flirted with him, I often felt she was just having a fun time and not really looking for a relationship.

But that didn't mean they weren't both getting exactly what they wanted at the time.  They were random people and they enjoyed being random together, as friends, as lovers, as whatever the heck they might have been.  Whatever they had going on, I knew it wasn't the kind of thing I was looking for.  I had never had a real girlfriend before, and when I did, and I wanted to have a real girlfriend.

The thing that scared me most about the idea of having a "real girlfriend" was the kinds of things you eventually do with a "real girlfriend", like introduce them to your parents.  No girl wants to be with a guy whose father makes him feel inferior, and I was pretty sure that attitude of mine would shine through to any intelligent young woman.  I knew I had to grow up and find myself before I had any sort of "relationship" with a member of the opposite sex.  Zach was just having fun AND he already knew who he was.  I was still working on figuring it all out.

-----

I think Brady thought I was just an easy going dude with out a care in the world.  I mean, usually I was, but I had my own fears and worries, too.  Like what on earth to do about Lizzy.  She certainly was cute, and a really good kisser, and her random reactions to just about everything amused me.  But did I want to spend my life with her?  Heck, I wasn't even sure I wanted to stay with her over the summer, which was fast approaching.  She'd stay here; I'd go home.  Should we stay as a couple?  Were we a couple to begin with?  Dude, I genuinely did not know.  It didn't bother me for those first couple months, but now with summer coming up, I wasn't sure what to do.  Lizzy was pretty laid back about things and never acted like she really cared that much either way where our relationship went, but I also had seen she could get upset about the most random things.  I told her to just chill and she'd just sneer roll her eyes and walk away.  I suppose if rolling her eyes and walking away was how she wanted to end our relationship, that would be totally cool with me, I just didn't want her to get violent or something.  I'd hate to have to bust out my kung-fo moves on her.  Mostly because she'd probably try to sue me afterwards.

But in all seriousness, I didn't know what I wanted, I didn't know what Lizzy wanted, and I didn't want to hurt her, even though, or maybe especially because, she was a little unstable.  So I just let myself float along for as long as possible until finally finals week arrived and I knew something had to be done.  I was still trying to be my usual chill self and not worry about it too much, so I hadn't yet figured out how to bring it up to her when we were sitting on a park bench throwing bread at the ducks (study break!) and she just came out and said, "So what are you doing for the summer?"

"Well, I was planning to go home and see my family, you know?  I haven't been home since Christmas."

"Me neither," she said.

I jerked my head towards her in confusion.  "I thought your mom lived in town."

"She does," Lizzy admitted.  "Doesn't mean I want to see her."

I just shrugged and shook my head.  If we had a real relationship, or a relationship I knew I wanted to develop, I would have asked about that, tried to figure out if she was hurting, make her feel better.  I can be a sweet guy, a sentimental guy.  It just wasn't that cool with Lizzy.

"So you're still gonna stay here, though, right?" I asked.  As soon as I said it, I knew it came out as sounding hopeful - like I wanted her to stay so I could leave her.  I felt my neck getting sweaty in anticipation of her outburst.

To my extreme surprise, she gave a playful half-sneer, half-smile and said, "Can't wait to git rid of me, huh?"

I decided to play along, so I smiled and said, "You know it, baby," as I leaned over to tickle her.

She slapped my hand away, got more of the angry look on her face that I had initially expected, stood up and boldly announced, "Well that's just fine, I can't wait to git rid of you either."

I sighed and dropped a piece of bread.  I caught sight of a fat little duckling waddling over to retrieve it out of the corner of my eye, but then I drew my attention back to Lizzy.  I still wasn't sure how serious she was, but I decided I should give her some respect and take it seriously.  "Listen, Lizzy," I said.  "I know we've had lots of fun together, and maybe we could keep it going, but I honestly don't know if I want to or not."

She kicked the dirt a little, folded her hands in front of her, and glared down at me sadly.  "I'm pretty enough and fun enough," she said.

"I know," I told her.  I smiled weakly.  "You're the cutest girl in the world."

"Bullshit," she said.  "You know that isn't true."

I shook my head, but of course I knew it wasn't true.  You always tell your girl she's the cutest or the smartest or the prettiest, even though you know she isn't.  I hate it when they point out that you know it isn't true.  Of course you know it isn't true, and they know you know it, but they don't have to say it.

I folded my hands in my lap, looked down at them, and then back up at her.  I tried to convey a sense of pleading and concern.  "What do you want, Lizzy?" I asked.

"To win," she said, without any hesitation.  I did not understand what she meant.  I didn't know what to say, which was pretty rare for a dude like me, so I just sat there.  A gust of wind came up and blew her hair in front of her face and mine away from my face.  As she brushed her hair away, I thought I might have seen her wipe a tear away, too, but it might have just been from the wind.  That would be more likely if the wind had been blowing into her face, but I still told myself it was probably just the wind that made her cry.  Finally she spoke again.  "It has been fun," she said.  "Random and fun.  I like fun, but fun is distracting.  I think you're right.  I think this might be it."  She held out her hand.  "Good-bye, Zach," she said.

I took her hand and shook it, since apparently that was what she expected me to do.  "Good-bye, Lizzy?"

She gave a single nod, dropped my hand, and turned to walk away.  That was when I thought to stand up, dumping the rest of the bread on the ground, and point out, "You gave me a ride here."

She turned back and sighed, and then gave a little smile.  "Mooch," she said.  Then another sigh and a gesturing for me to follow her.  "Okay, come on.  So much for the tear-jerker ending.  I'll drive you back to your dorm."

So we walked and then rode in silence.  Somehow it was relieving, not awkward.  And when we got back to campus, Lizzy leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.  "Good-bye, Zach," she said.

I smiled at her.  I really did feel like it was a touching, bittersweet moment, but I was glad it was ending.  "Good-bye, Lizzy," I said.  Then I got out of the car and watched her drive away.  I really believed I wasn't going to see her again, and I felt okay.

NaNoWriMo - Day 5

Don't even think about asking me why I gave that crazy guy's man-friend my phone number.  I couldn't tell you for the life of me.  Why I agreed to go out with sir crazy hair is a mystery to me, too.  I guess I decided that I was committed to the bit so I might as well keep it up.  Plus, it never hurts to have someone hanging around to call you cute or pretty or whatever.  Just as long as they don't get in the way of your dreams.  When your dreams are in fact to be called cute or pretty or whatever, there's less chance of trouble.

Zach amused me to say the least.  He was strange and confident and smart enough.  I might have felt intimidated, except I only cared about being smart enough to manage my finances and win more trophies.  I was careful on our first date not to reveal to him just how important winning those pageants really was to me.  I figured then he would think I was crazy, and if it turned out I actually did want to be with him, I didn't want that happening right off the bat.  Let them get connected to you first.  Then you can slowly let the crazy come out.  Though in Zach's case, I guess letting the crazy come out right away didn't work out so bad for him.  He ended up with me, after all.

Well anyway, once he called me, I decided not to let him take charge too much so I suggested our date location.  Given I wasn't sure what his finances were like, I didn't go too up scale.  You don't want to shame the guy, but you don't want to insult him either.  I figured Louie's pizzeria was a fine choice.  When he met me there five minutes late (probably not wanting to look to anxious or something) he laughed and said, "It's a good thing my roommate wasn't the one who ended up calling you.  He hates pizza."

I sneered.  "Who in their right mind hates pizza?"

He just shook his head.  "Dude, I guess my roommate."

"So who's going out with me?" I asked.  "You or your roommate."

"Who's it look like, baby?" he asked, holding his arms out and thrusting his pelvis forward just enough to be unappealing without being totally disgusting.

"It looks like it's about to be nobody," I answered.

He stood up straight again and pressed his hands to his heart.  "That hurts," he said.

I couldn't help but smile, just a little, just enough to give him hope.  "Come on, let's see if you can guess my toppings," I challenged him.

Surprising, he got pretty close.  He guessed mushroom, black olive, and hamburger, but I informed him that fungus is gross and that I prefer green pepper, black olive, and hamburger.  He told me I was missing out and proceeded to order what I had requested.

While we waited for the pizza, he asked me if I went to the college.  I said nope and asked if he did, already figuring the answer was yes or else he wouldn't ask me if I went there.  He said what I already knew ("yes"), and waited for me to ask him what he was studying, which I politely did.  He then talked about the tough choice between chemistry and biology for a while, somehow without sneaking in any pick-up lines or crude jokes until the end when he said, "Maybe you can help me decide," and giving me a little wink.  I rolled my eyes and he laughed.  And finally our pizza arrived.

As we munched away, he asked me what it felt like being the cutest girl in the world.  I reminded him it was just the cutest young woman in the county and he said, "Whatever."  He didn't repeat his question, so I didn't answer it.  He asked instead what else I like to do when I'm not fondling jewelry and I told him I like movies and art and playing the piano.  I left out the part where I learned the piano just so I could play at pageants and that art and movies can sometimes be incorporated into the Q&A portion of a pageant.  I mean, I did enjoy these things apart from pageants, at least the movies, so it wasn't like I was deceiving him or anything.

He said everyone likes movies and asked me to name three of my favorites.  I don't remember for sure what I said, but I think one of them was Love, Actually.  He said he liked classic comedies, like Meet The Parents and Zoolander.  I just shook my head.

Overall, it wasn't such a bad date.  He must have agreed because he nonchalantly suggested we go out again, to which I nonchalantly agreed.  I even let him pick the venue for that next time.

-----

It turned out Bridget and I were able to find some normal people around campus.  Quite a few of them, actually.  There were several booths set up in the student center trying to get new students like ourselves to join various groups.  Religious groups, political groups, social clubs, musical groups, intramural sports.  I figured it had been a while since I played volleyball.  I might as well give it another try in a low to no pressure environment.  I tried to get Bridget to sign up with me, but I think she was afraid of breaking a nail.  She wandered off to the sorority tables to try to see if she could decide between her top two choices based on what the girls were wearing.  I continued to wander around, discovering fantasy club, kendo club, American sign language club, and numerous acapella choirs.  The choirs seemed like they would be fun, if I knew how to sing.  Kendo and fencing were tempting - there was some guilty appeal in the idea of hitting other people with fake swords.  I wondered if I could get Bridget to learn sign language with me.  I figured it might be fun to communicate without actually speaking, but maybe Bridget liked speaking too much to make that work.

Eventually, I decided this was my time to try new things and signed up for both Kendo and sign language.  I politely declined when I walked back past the political and religious groups trying to grab my attention.  Those things were more personal than group activities for me.  Very much unlike Bridget's view of womanhood as she sought to bond with the sisters of Kappa Kappa Delta or whatever other sisterhood she was talking to when I found her.

"Want to learn sign language?" I asked her when she finally noticed me and turned away from a girl who looked to be even more of a party nut than her.  I handed her a flyer.

She wrinkled up her nose and asked, "Why would I want to do that?"

I wished I already knew some sign language so I could say something to her that she wouldn't understand, thus annoying her into wanting to learn just to figure out what it was I said, but since I didn't, I just shrugged and decided I could always try that little trick later after I learned a few key phrases.  "Did you find what you were looking for?" I asked instead.

"Not really," she said as she wrapped her arm through mine.  "I still can't decide which will be more fun.  Maybe I can pledge for both.  Surely they won't both want me, will they?"

I knew she was fishing for a compliment so I just shook my head and said, "No, surely not."

She let out a little "uh!" and punched me in the shoulder with her free hand.

"Hey, what was that for?" I asked laughing.

"For being a jerk of a friend," she said.  "Now come on, let's go see what they might have to eat around here.  I'm starving."

-----

As our relationship flourished, I quickly came to recognize Alyse as both a wonderful friend and fantastic lover.  She knew so many random things, about art, cinema, literature, ... other things.  It filled me with joy just standing near her.  I hadn't been much for PDA before I met her, but with Alyse, sometimes I just couldn't help but lean over and kiss her in public.  By some miracle, she seemed to enjoy my presence, too.

I think my photography helped a lot.  I'm not a brilliant photographer, but I wasn't horrible either.  Alyse's love of art carried over to love of the photos I took.  She actually helped me realize that some of them were even better than I had thought them to be.  Some photos that I would have just deleted were described by Alyse as "mesmerizing" or "unique."  Now, I often took a description of my work as "unique" to mean "unpleasant", but whenever Alyse said it, it seemed like a good thing and it made me look at my work differently.  I had been pretty run-of-the mill in my subject matter, but Alyse inspired me to try new things, more abstract things.  Many of these new endeavours fared better than my more mainstream work, the work I had actually considered good.

I'd like to think I was able to reciprocate by helping Alyse a bit with her writing.  She said she wanted to write something an intelligent young man such as myself (her words) could appreciate both on the surface and at a deeper level.  I think what she really wanted was something that made people feel smart for understanding, but that wasn't too complex to intimidate them.  I suggested this to her at one point after we got engaged and, with a charming laugh and captivating smile, she more or less admitted it to be true.  Alyse was no fool.  She knew I wasn't any kind of genius, but she always treated me like I was the most brilliant man around.  Sometimes, I did surprise myself with insights that provided rather helpful to her and her work.  She never acted surprised by them though.  Instead, she said things like, "You're always able to help me out of a tough spot."  And then she'd blush and kiss me and we'd end up forgetting what we were even talking about.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone who saw us together that I asked her to marry me after having known her for only six months.  I think that short dating period was why so many people said we were too young.  We really weren't that young; I was twenty-four and she was twenty-three when we got engaged.  But when you have a short engagement, people often think it's because you're "too young", not realizing it's because you just know how much you love this person and that you want to start the rest of your lives together now.  Fast engagements aren't for everyone, but they were for me and Alyse.  Though once you hear the rest of my story, I think you'll understand why a deep-seeded part of me will always wish we had dated longer before getting married and deciding to start a family.

NaNoWriMo - Day 4

Zach was one of those guys who just didn't care, but in a good way.  He lived life without thinking about all the terrible things that could happen.  Now he wasn't foolish about it.  He didn't run across the street without looking both ways or jump out of an airplane without checking his parachute first.  But he did often just randomly decide to do something and convince me to come along even if I didn't think beforehand that I wanted to.  It wasn't always big things either.  It was more like the one Saturday afternoon when we were both in the room studying for our respective tests that we had coming up on Monday when Zach suddenly slammed his book shut, making my jump a little in my chair, and said, "Dude!  Let's go to the mall."

I couldn't help but laugh.  "What are we, back in high school?" I asked.  Truth be told, I almost never went to the mall in high school, since the nearest real mall was over an hour away from my house, but I was under the impression that going to the mall was a typical high schooler's key endevour in life.

"Naw, man," he responded.  "I'm just tired of studying and it isn't nice enough outside to throw the frisbee around.  Too windy.  Come on, let's go to the mall.  I need a new shirt anyway."

I sighed.  "Okay, fine, let's go to the mall."  I grabbed my car keys and headed out the door.

I did sometimes wondered if Zach invited me along on his little trips because we were friends or simply because I had a car and he didn't.  Either way, as much as I resisted, which usually wasn't very much anyway, I did enjoy hanging out with him.  I never realized how much I missed out on with not having a brother to talk to about things and do guy stuff with until I met Zach.  Now granted, going to the mall isn't much of a "guy thing", but there's a reason I chose to share this particular outing.

So we get to the mall and Zach just starts wandering off and of course I follow.  He glances back at me.  "Where should I get my shirt?" he asks.  "The Gap?  Macy's?  Abercrombie?"

I laugh.  "I don't care, Zach, get it wherever you want."

"Let's find the store with the cutest girl working there and buy it there."

"What if we disagree about which girl is the cutest?"

He shrugs.  "Well, it is my shirt," he says.  "If you want to buy a shirt, too, then you pick the girl you think is cutest."  He pauses and then continues, "That's not to say I won't listen to your arguments regarding said cuteness.  I try to keep an open mind."

I just sigh and roll my eyes.  "Whatever, man," I say.  "Let's just get your shirt so I can get back to studying.  This test is going to destroy me if I'm not ready for it."

"Whatever, man, you'll do fine, you always do."

I smile.  This isn't very manly to admit, but Zach's compliments never failed to make me feel better about myself.  My dad never complimented me and I couldn't take my mom's compliments seriously, but Zach always seemed so genuine.  And he said what he said without even thinking.  It was sometimes hard to believe my initial impression of him had been that I was so much superior to him.  I think Zach was really a better man than I.

But anyway, we go wandering through some stores, poking around pretending to look at clothes when we're actually looking at the female employees and comparing notes on our opinions of their relative cuteness.  We are forced to get the clarification that the statement made previously was with regards to the "cutest" girl and not the "hottest" girl as there would certainly be a difference.  With this in mind, we continue on with our window shopping, roaming from store to store and isle to isle, until suddenly Zach grabs my shoulder pulls me behind a rack of coats and pointing towards the jewelry counter says, "Dude, I know that girl."

"Okay..."

"I mean, I know I've seen her before, but I can't put my finger on where.  Does she look familiar to you?"

I peak out in the direction he's pointing.  "The girl with the curly black hair?" I ask.

He nods.  "Yeah, her."

I shrug.  "Doesn't look familiar to me."

"I know I've seen her before."

"Why not just go ask her?"  I suggest.

"I... I don't know..." he mutters.

This surprises me.  Zach never second guesses himself or really gives much thought to anything.  I would have fully expected him to just walk right up to this girl and say, "Don't I know you?" or some other such line that has real potential to sound like a pick-up line.  I realized it was very unusual for us to even be having this conversation.  So I asked, "Why are we even having this conversation?  What's the matter with you?"

"Shhh!" he interjected, "I think she looked over this way."

"Why do you even care?" I asked.

"I don't..."

I sigh and stand up from our hunched position.  "This is silly," I say, "I'm going over there to talk to her."

"No, no, no..." Zach stammers, reaching for my shoulder again, but I'm already on my way and with a heavy sigh he follow behind me.  Zach's reaction and trepidation are so strange to me, now I really want to know who this girl is and what's going on here.

"Hello," I say as I approach the counter.  "My friend here thinks he knows you."

Zach peaks out from behind me and waves his hand timidly.  This is so unlike him, I don't really understand what's going on.

The girl shrugs.  "I don't know him," she says, "but it's possible he's seen me before."

Zach smiles and stands up straight, taking a step to stand beside me.  "And where might that be?" he asks, his confidence suddenly returned.

She gives a little smirk.  "Well, I was on the news last night for winning a pageant."

"And what was the pageant?" Zach prompts.

"You obviously already know," she says.

"Yeah, but I want my friend to hear you say it."

She sighs and rolls her eyes.  "Cutest Young Woman," she says.

Zach turns to me and points both fingers at me.  "Bam!" he says, "Can't beat that!  I'm buying my shirt right here, right now!"  And he saunters off towards the men's casual wear section.

I look back at the girl.  I'm stunned; she looks pretty stunned, too.  I should have known Zach was messing with me.  He lives for that kind of ridiculous nonsense.  "I'm so sorry," I say.  "For my friend.  He's an embarrassment sometimes."

To my surprise, she smiles at me.  She has dimples and green eyes.  I guess she is pretty cute.  "It's okay," she says.  "I appreciate being recognized for my work."

I'm not entirely sure what she means by that, so I just give out an awkward little half chuckle and say, "Well, have a nice day," and turn to walk away.

I've gone about two steps when she calls out after me, "My name's Lizzy."

I turn back.  "Brady," I respond.

She nods.  "Well, see you around, Brady."  She looks back down to the jewelry counter and starts writing on a little slip of paper.  I take that as my cue to walk away, but I only manage to turn and go one more step until she calls out again, "Here's my number."

I think this is extremely bizarre that a girl I randomly met working in a clothing store would give a phone number to the friend of a guy who totally just made a fool of himself, but for some stupid reason, I turn back, walk forward and take it from her hand anyway.  I accidentally glance into her eyes and they seem to sparkle.  "You can give it to your friend," she says in a hushed tone, "or call me yourself if you prefer.  It's totally up to you."

"Thanks, I guess," I manage to get out.  I take the paper from her and walk away at a brisk clip, fearing she might call me back if I don't get out of there fast.  I manage to find Brady perusing through the polos.

"What do you think?" he says holding up two shirts.  "Red or black?"

"I think that girl is crazy," I say.  "She just gave me her phone number."  I hold out the sheet of paper.

Zach laughs.  "How does that make her crazy?"

"What kind of girl hands out her phone number to some random guy, especially when his friend just made a fool of himself?"

Zach shakes his head.  "Dude, I didn't make a fool of myself," he says.  "She liked it.  That's why she gave you the phone number."  He smirks a little.  "Did she say it was for your or for me?"

"She didn't even seem to care!" I exclaim throwing my hands up in the air.

Zach snorts a little.  "Well are you going to call her?" he asks.

"Of course not!"

"Well then do you mind if I do?" he asks.

"Be my guest," I respond, shaking the paper in his direction.

He glances at the red shirt and the black shirt, then puts the black shirt back on the rack and takes the paper with the hand that had been holding the black shirt.  He shakes the paper in my direction.  "A new shirt and a new phone number," he announces.  "What could be better than that?"

I sigh.  "Going back to the dorms and making sure I don't fail my test on Monday?" I suggest.

He laughs.  "Yeah, okay, man.  Let's get out of here.  I need to get my studying in before I call this chick tonight."  He glances down at the paper.  "Lizzy Rodgers, apparently."

I hadn't even looked at the paper before.  "Geez, she even gave her last name?"

Zach shrugs.  "Maybe so we can look her up on Facebook," he suggests.

"You go right ahead," I say.  "She makes me uncomfortable."

Zach pats me on the back.  "Of course she does, buddy," he says.  "She's the cutest worker in this mall."

-----

To say that telling my father good-bye as I headed off to college was hard would be an understatement.  Even though I would only be a couple of hours away by car, I felt like I was losing all the support and guidance he had offered me over the years.  How could I not cry?

He held me and as I pulled back from his embrace, he wiped one of my tears away and said, "You even look like her when you're sad."

It was true, it seemed I was growing to look more and more like my mother every day.

"I'll miss you," I said.

"I'll miss you, too, sweetheart," he replied.  He dropped his hands from my shoulder and said, "But you're ready for this.  I know you are.  You haven't needed me since you were a baby.  You might not realize yet how independent you are, but I know you'll do great."

I smiled and nodded.  "I know, dad," I said.  "I know I'll be okay."

"More than okay!" he interjected.

I smiled a little more.  "More than okay, but that doesn't make saying good-bye any harder."

"What about your friends?" he asked.  "Maggie's moving clear across the country."

I sighed.  "Don't remind me.  I'm going to miss her like crazy, too, but at least Bridget is going to the same school I am."

My father shifted his weight uneasily.  "Yeah, I suppose so," he said.  He wasn't particularly fond of Bridget.  She was too much of a party girl for his liking.  She could be a little rude at times, too.  She wouldn't say anything, but she'd crinkle up her nose like something smelled rancid and you'd just feel the disdain seeping out from her.

"I'm sure I'll make new friends, too," I pointed out quickly.

He smiled and reached out again to squeeze my shoulder.  "I know you will sweetie," he said.  "You'll be great."

-----

Christina is totally my best friend.  I know her dad doesn't think all that highly of me, but who needs him?  Chris and I are going to have an awesome time in college.  I just need to get her to loosen up and have a fun time.  I know she won't go too crazy.  I wouldn't want her to.  I know it's not her thing.  But she just needs to have a little more fun sometimes, you know?  And wear some brighter colors, girl!  No need to look so drab all the time!  It's like she's still mourning the mother she never knew.  I mean, get over it, girl!

Okay, I'm sorry, I know that sounded really rude.  Sometimes I just get carried away.  Chris is a great girl.  I wish I had her ambition and dedication.  She got that track scholarship and an academic scholarship to go to this school.  I got diddly squat because I'm a slacker.  I know I am.  My family has the money to afford this school and I scored just high enough on my ACT to get accepted.  I have no illusions of grandeur.  And I don't want to ruin Chris, despite what her father might think.  I just want her to loosen up a little.  If she doesn't have some more fun, real fun, not like this deep and meaningful sense of peace stuff she's always searching for, she's going to burn herself out.  I'm really just trying to help.

-----

Once all the unloading, unpacking, and setting up of the dorm room was ready, it dawned on me just how nervous I was being away at college.  It was all so new and exciting and terrifying.  I slid open our glass patio door and stepped out onto the balcony to look over the student recreation area.  Kids were walking around, playing frisbee, munching on french fries while they sat on the grass.  One of the perks of rooming with a girl whose parents had sway at the college was getting a room with such a nice view.  Bridget stepped up next to me in her favorite hoop earrings and high heels and slapped me on the back.  "So, kid," she said amidst the smacking of her gum, "whaddaya think?"

I smiled.  "I think it's going to be great," I said softly.

"You know it girl!  Now come on, let's go downstairs and take a look around."

I assented and followed Bridget down the stairs.  She was yakking away about all the great parties she had already heard about, the freshman welcome stuff, and which sororities she was most likely to pledge to.  She didn't bother asking me what I thought.  She knew better than to think I would pledge anywhere, or even know what the difference was between the sisterhoods, or whatever they called them.  As we were walking along, her talking and me listening, this guy with shoulder length hair, shorts and a T-shirt, came rushing towards us.  At first I thought he wanted to talk to us for some reason, but then he glanced behind him just in time to run right into Bridget.  "Geez!"  she exclaimed.

"Sorry, dude," he said looking up at her, "I mean, lady, I mean..." he glanced behind him again.  "Gotta go."  And he rushed off.

Bridget wrinkled up her nose the way she often did when she was feeling annoyed or disapproving.  "What a jerk," she said.  Just as we were shaking off our strange encounter and started walking again, a pretty girl with curly black hair wearing a long red skirt came running up to us.

Panting, she stopped in front of us, rested her hands on her knees and said, "Have you seen a hippie come this way."

I choked trying to keep from laughing and started coughing instead.  Bridget just wrinkled up her nose even more.  She stared at the girl and the girl looked back up at us pleadingly.  Bridget slowly pointed behind us the direction the guy with the shoulder length hair had run.

"Thanks," the black haired girl said, standing up and squeezing Bridget's arm.  "You're the best."  Then she looked right at me, seemed to give a little scowl, and ran off.

Once she was gone, I really did burst out laughing.  "What the crap is going on here?!" I asked Bridget.

She just shook her head.  "I have no idea," she replied, "Let's just go get some froyo or something and see if there are any normal people around here."

-----

I was sitting in the dorm room still studying like mad for my exam on Monday when Zach burst in the room, having returned from the library where I had politely sent him when he couldn't stop talking to me about what he was going to say when he called this girl later than night, and announced, "It's time, dude; I'm gonna do it!"

I had secretly been looking forward to this as an excuse to take a break from the studying that might at this point have been frying my brain more than it was actually helping me prepare, so I slammed down my pencil, spun around in my chair, and exclaimed, "Yeah, let's do it!"

He took a step back from me and held his hands up in surrender, cell phone already ready to go in his left.  "Hey man, no need to get sarcastic," he said.

I laughed as I stood up and walked over to close the door behind him.  "I'm not, man," I assured him.  "I'm actually pretty curious to see how this turns out."  I walked back over to my desk and sat down facing him.  "But remember, I did warn you; I'm pretty sure this chick is crazy."

"Crazy lucky to land a dude like me, maybe," Zach announced.  He held his hand up for a high five.  "Hey, don't leave me hangin'!"

I rolled my eyes.  "Sure, why not," I said as I stood up and slapped his hand.  Collapsing back into my chair, I asked, "So what are you going to say to her?"

Zach shrugged.  "Oh, you know, just that she's cute and we should go out on a date."

I laughed.  "That's it?  No cheesy lines?  And no small talk?  After all those plans and ideas you were torturing me with before?  You think simple is best?"

He shrugged.  "Only one way to find out," he said.  And then he grinned mischieviously and added, "Besides, if my first attempt doesn't work, I can pretend it was you and try again as myself.  After all, she did say either of us could call her."

"Yeah, because she's crazy."

"Whatever, dude, I'm calling her right now."

"Go for it."

He gave me his "you know I will" look and then did it.  He pulled the paper out from his pocket, dialed the number, and stood there in the middle of our dorm room while it rang.  I only heard his end of the conversation, but it went something like this:  "Lizzy? ...  Yeah this is the dude from the store yesterday. ... Does it matter? ... So, I think you're cute and we should go out. ... Okay, yes, you're the cutest and we should really go out. ... Thursday?  You don't want to go out on a Friday or Saturday? ... No, no, Thursday is fine. ... Okay, I'll see you there at 7.  Bye bye."  He hung up, tossed the phone behind him onto his bed, and shook his head.  "You were right, dude," he said, looking at me, "she's totally crazy."

I wasn't entirely sure if he was being serious or sarcastic, so I just said, "So you're really going out with her?"

He laughed.  "Of course I am!" he said.  "If she turns out to be the murderous kind of crazy, I've taken self defense."  He got into some sort of martial arts stance and waved his hands in front of me as he made swoshing sounds to indicate how fast he was moving.  "So really, what's the worst that could happen?"

NaNoWriMo - Day 3

The first thing I did after getting settled in my college dorm was order a pizza.  I know that sounds anticlimactic, but I had never tasted a real pizza before.  They sometimes served pizza at school, but it was all rubbery and it wasn't even sliced properly.  It was rubbery, square, fake pizza.  I wanted to try to real thing.  I was sorely disappointed.

The pizza I ordered was, admittedly, a step above the school cafeteria fare, but it immediately made me realize why my parents never bothered to make the hour long drive to a town that had real pizza.  The cheese was greasy and way too stringy, the dough was hard, and the toppings were over cooked and didn't taste fresh at all.  I guess living on a farm had spoiled me, but it was pretty unacceptable.  With a look of disgust on my face, I tossed the box aside after just a few bites.  (I had figured the second bite couldn't be as bad as the first, but I discovered I was wrong.)  I then proceeded to pull up the campus map, find a sandwich shop nearby, and go pick up a sub.  I figured even if those ingredients weren't fresh, they wouldn't be so greasy.

When I got back with my sandwich (which I tasted before leaving the shop and confirmed it to be to my liking), I found my roommate, whom I had not yet met, sitting on the floor of our room chomping away at the disgusting pizza from the box I had tossed aside.  "Dude!" he exclaimed, looking up at me with over-zealous joy as I walked in the door.  "Somebody left us a free pizza!"

I looked at him, sitting there cross-legged on the floor, wearing sandals even though it was only 50 degrees outside, his shoulder length unkempt hair knotted around the outline of his face, a face with such an expression of excitement, that I couldn't help but let out a little half snort, half chuckle and shake my head.  His expression remained unchanged.  "Well do you want some?" he asked.

I had never before felt this superior to another human being.  My father, the man who had the biggest influence on my life, had always made me feel like I didn't quite measure up, but now, seeing this supposed peer of mine sitting on the cold hard floor rejoicing over the disgusting fare I had rejected, all I could think about was how much more disappointed my father would have been to have this guy as his son.

"No," I said, walking past him to the computer desk, "Thanks anyway but I just got my dinner."

As I was sitting down at my desk I heard him say behind me.  "Well, I'll put some in my fridge for you tomorrow then, dude.  I won't eat this all anyway."

I immediately felt terrible.  I don't know if it was his words or just those few additional seconds, but I found myself thinking, "What was I thinking?"  I had left home in part to get away from this kind of perceived superiority attitude, and now I was displaying it myself, and over what, a guy eating pizza on the floor?  How did that make him any worse than me, just because he liked a food I didn't.  Was I really that pathetic?  Had I left home just looking to feel better about myself compared to others, or had I come here to actually see more of the world and to learn something good.  I looked back to my roommate.  "What's your name?" I asked him.

His mouth was full of pizza at the moment, but he chewed it quickly, swallowed, and answered, "I'm Zach."

I slid out of my chair and sat on the floor next to him, leaning my back against the computer desk.  "I'm Brady," I said holding out my hand.  Zach wiped his hand on his jeans and then shook mine.

"Nice to meet you, dude," he said.

I smiled and took out my sandwich.  "Likewise," I said.

His face grew a bit of a puzzled look and he said, "So you don't like pizza?"

I shook my head and chuckled.  "No apparently not," I answered.

He looked down at the pizza, then up at me, then down at the pizza, and back up at me.  "Oh dude, you totally ordered this pizza, didn't you?" he exclaimed.  "I'm so sorry."

I waved my hand in dismissal of his concern.  "It's no big deal," I said.  "I didn't like it anyway.  That's why I got this."  I held up my sandwich with the bite already taken out of it.

"Well at least let me pay you back," he interjected.

"No that's really not necessary."

"No, I insist."  He had taken a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and was waving it at me.

"You can just pay next time," I said.

"Well if you don't like pizza..."

"I'm sure we can work something out," I assured him.  "But I really am kinda hungry."

"Oh yeah, totally, dude," he said, taking his money and stuffing it back in his pocket.  I didn't see a wallet.  I was pretty sure he just was carrying his money and id and stuff directly in his pockets.  "Me, too."

We ate in silence for a few minutes and then he started making small talk about where we were from and what we were planning to study.  Turned out Zach was a pretty smart guy.  He was planning to study either biology or chemistry, he hadn't quite decided which he liked more.  I admitted I had very little idea what I wanted to study.  I just wanted to discover what else was out there, maybe study abroad for a year if I could.  Zach seemed to think that was pretty cool.  "I went to Europe with my family in high school," he told me.  "Amsterdam is pretty crazy."  He paused and then added, "So I hear.  We didn't actually go there, not on a family vacation.  But you and I should totally go sometime, dude.  It would be awesome."

I liked Zach.  He was a good guy, friendly and non-judgmental.  I felt like there was a lot I could learn just from him.  And over that first year, I did my best to learn all I could.

------

I liked sports when I was young.  Softball, basketball, volleyball.  My dad was always there, cheering me on, camera in hand to make sure he captured the moments forever.  I wasn't the best at these sports, but I had fun, and I learned how to work on a team.  My father said he was proud of me.  He was proud of me so much that it almost became meaningless at times, but I knew he wasn't just saying it.

When I moved on to high school, I dropped basketball and volleyball and picked up track.  I was actually pretty fast.  I discovered I loved to run.  My father said I used to run squealing all around the house when I was little, so he wasn't too surprised.  I, of course, didn't remember any of this.  I just wanted to run, sprinting down the track, tennis shoes beating against the track, heart pounding, hair flying, trying to catch the girl ahead of me or gain distance on the girl behind me.  I ran with all my might.  Sometimes I imagined death itself was chasing me down, trying to claim me again, but I wouldn't let him.  I was a survivor, I was a winner, even when I didn't come in first place.

But I did come in first place often enough, and eventually I made it to the state track meet my senior year.  My dad was just gushing with joy.  I think he had expected to once again be the supportive father telling me he loved me even though I hadn't made it, but this time I had made it!  I didn't feel a lot of pressure.  I didn't have to worry about letting my dad or anyone else down.  I just wanted to run, feel the wind in my face as I rushed by, and cross that finish line with my heart racing as hard as I had.  I never expected to win state.  It was a complete and total shock to me when I did.  I hadn't even made it the year before, and now I had won.

I actually felt a little guilty about the win, though it was no fault of my own.  The girl who should have won had the flu the day of the meet and had to drop out.  The girl who should have gotten second stumbled out of the starting blocks and wasn't able to recover.  That left me, the girl who should have gotten third, to be ranked best in the state.  I think there were some who thought I didn't deserve it, and they were right, so when they interviewed me about the surprising victory I came right out and told them that the other two deserved it more than I did.  I wasn't just trying to smooth things over.  I was trying to tell the truth.  And even though that was the truth, I apparently was still good enough in the eyes of some to get a modest scholarship to run track at a decent in-state school.  My father was thrilled, and I actually was, too.  I could stay close to home for school, while still getting some independence, and most of all, I could keep running.

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Alyse grew more beautiful every day I saw her.  Meeting in the park to discuss her writing and my photography became a regular thing.  Yes, I know you already know how the story ends, well at least this part of it, but I've realized I want to tell it anyway.  Since I'm not the one who's a writer, the words won't all be right, but I want to try to convey to you just how amazing this woman was.

Alyse was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life.  She grew more beautiful each day I saw her.  I know I already said that, but I'm one for overemphasizing.  She was confident in herself as a person, which blew me away, but she was critical of herself as a writer.  She was always asking me, "Does this really convey the sense of awe I'm going for?"  or "Do you feel afraid enough for this character right now?"  It was all about emotion for her, tugging at the heart strings, and she was certainly tugging at mine.

Things continued on like this for some time - meeting in the park to discuss our work.  Every Monday through Thursday Alyse would say "See you tomorrow" and every Friday she would say "See you Monday."  It took me weeks of wondering what she really thought of me - was she playing hard to get, did she already have a boyfriend - before one Friday when she said, "See you Monday," I finally said, "How about see you tomorrow evening instead."

She smiled the smile that would throw mountains into the sea.  "It's about time!" she said with a laugh.

It was your typical short notice date:  dinner and a movie.  There was an arsty film playing that we both wanted to see and then I took her out to my favorite Italian restaurant.  She wore a stunning yet simple strapless red dress.  It took my breath away.  At dinner after the show she had so many insights into what this had meant and how that made her feel.  I just sat there smiling, listening to her melodic voice ring on, until she'd ask me a question.  At first I thought she was just being sweet and trying to include me, because clearly she knew more of the background of the film we had seen than I did, but I realized she really cared about my opinion, just as much as I cared about hers.  It was refreshing to be on a date where we could talk about things, things that ultimately weren't too deep, but deep enough for a first date, with comfort and care.  I reflected that the same had already been happening in the parks for weeks now, we were just now calling it a "date".  And I thought to myself, why would I ever want to live my life any other way than what I was doing right here, right now with this woman.

I dropped her off at her apartment and she asked me if I wanted to come up for coffee.  How I wanted to say yes, but my old fashioned up-bringing and past restrictions on my dating rules held me back.  I declined.  "You don't have to be shy," she said.

I smiled.  Took her hand and kissed it.  "I'm trying to be a gentleman," I responded.

She giggled a playful little giggle, clearly for show, and then leaned forward and kissed me.  It seemed totally natural, and yet it caught me off guard.  My heart seemed to skip a beat with our lips touched.  It was a simple kiss, but totally perfect for a first kiss.  She leaned back with a sparkle in her eye and slipped her hand out of mine.  "See you Monday," she said.

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I was an average student in high school.  I could have gone to college if I wanted to.  I didn't want to.  People kept telling me I would make more money if I went to school.  I would have to work extra hard all my life just to make ends meet if all I had was a high school diploma.  But those "people" were just my teachers and guidance counselor at school.  I politely listened because I had to and then politely declined to take their advice.  I'm not sure my mother cared one way or the other what I did.  I think she had gotten bored with caring so much about me.  She had taken up drinking by this point.

Now my mom wasn't abusive or anything.  I don't want anyone thinking that.  She still did her duties as a mother, too.  She worked hard to provide clothing, food, and shelter for me.  She sat with me to watch TV after dinner.  She set a curfew and actually punished me if I broke it.  But she was really just going through the motions.  She was being a mother because she had to, just like I was listening to my teachers talk only because I had to.  Really, I think she was bored or lonely and the alcohol was her attempt to fill that void.  I wonder if she finally stopped being angry at my father after all those years and started missing him.  I didn't really think she would run off to some pig farm and try to find him, but part of my frail teenage brain feared she would.  Despite her averageness as mother, I'm sure she could do better than him for a husband, based on what I had heard her say and then take back about him over the years.  Once or twice, I even suggested she go out on a date, but she just scoffed, took a sip of her whisky and said, "Who would have me?  You're the one who should be going out on dates."

I didn't want to go out on dates either, though.  I was focused on what really mattered to me:  winning as many beauty pageants as I possibly could.  I didn't need school for that.  I no longer needed my mother egging me on.  She had grown bored of the pageants anyway.  She still smiled and patted me on the back when I came home with a trophy, and then promptly displayed the trophy on the shelf with the others I had won, but her heart wasn't in it anymore, just like her heart wasn't in much of anything.  Part of me, I think, hoped that maybe if I won enough she would suddenly realize that her dream of me being a renowned beauty had come true, and snap out of whatever funk she was in, go back to the days of saying how much better I was than Ruby.  But another part of me, just wanted to keep winning and didn't care about much of anything else.

Now, I wasn't a fool.  I knew I still wasn't beautiful enough to compete in the true beauty contests, so instead I found competitions that were less about beauty and more about stage presence.  I had a great stage presence.  I think it came from realizing just how ridiculous it was to stress out too much about real life worries and concerns.  Just live your life, be bold, and see what comes your way.  Walk out on stage like it's nobody's business but your own.  Show the world you don't care what they think (even though you really do).  I was a pro at that.  So who needs more than a high school diploma?  If you can manipulate judges to vote for you even if you clearly aren't the prettiest girl on stage, can't you do just about anything you need to?

That was what I figured at least.  I tole my mom I didn't want to go to college.  She smiled her sad little smile that said she was longing for something more in life but didn't know what and said, "That's okay sweetie.  You just do whatever you want to do.  I love you."

She said, "I love you" a lot to mean, "I'm sorry I'm not a better mother."

So I didn't go to college.  I got a job in retail and worked my way up to store manager in a little under a year.  I suppose I could have gotten promoted even faster, but I didn't need to.  I preferred to focus on continuing to research pageants.  I was a little surprised when I moved away from home and my mom asked if I was really going to take all my trophies with me.  I wondered if maybe she had continued to care about the pageants more than I thought she had.  So I left her that first second place trophy that I won and took the rest.  I did love my mother, in my way, but what was the point of having all those trophies if I was just going to leave them for her to stare at all day and not take them for myself?  She may have started me down this road, and I was grateful for that, but I had earned my way, and I was proud and wouldn't sacrifice my winnings for anyone, not even my mother.

NanoWriMo - Day 1

I really did enjoy life on the farm.  The cows were smelly and dumb and working in the fields was exhausting, but it was rewarding, too.  People who've lived in the city all their lives may not realize just how stifling their lives are.  In the country, everything was open.  The sky was bold and blue and you could actually see the stars.  My mother's cooking was wonderful.  We had fresh eggs and milk and vegetables.  I grew up loving sweet corn and potatoes the most of all.  To hear me talk about it, even I'm surprised I ever decided to leave.  But farm freedom is only so much freedom.  A city is clearly stifling, but sometimes the farm could seem stifling, too.

I often felt like I was never good enough for my father.  He would nod his approval at me from time to time, but I never knew what he really thought of me.  And I was too afraid to ask.  I thought he loved me, but the desire to be sure wasn't worth the risk that I was wrong.  I never told him I loved him and he never told me he loved me.  That was just the way it was.

My mother on the other hand was always hugging and kissing me and calling me her precious little boy.  Well, at least until I was old enough to feel I had to put a stop to it.  She still told me she loved me and I'd say, "I love you, too, Ma," while my father sat in his recliner in front of the TV and scoffed.  I sometimes wondered what drew my parents together and then I realized it wasn't their love of one another, it was their love of the farm life that did it.  They might have loved it for different reasons, but they loved it so much that they stuck with it despite their personal differences.

I just didn't have that love enough to stick around.  There's a huge jump between contentment and passion.  I was content with farm life, for the most part, but I wasn't passionate about it.  The farm was big, but the world was bigger and I wanted to see more of, maybe even all of it if I could.  We had decent money, but certainly not enough to travel the world and, dad claimed, barely enough to send me to college.  So instead of depending on dear old dad, I worked hard on the farm and in school and managed to earn a scholarship at a decent out of state university.  Not prestigious enough to brag about, but certainly nothing to be ashamed of either.

My mother cried when I got my acceptance letter.  I still don't know if they were tears of joy or sadness.  I think they were probably both.  My father patted me on the back.  It was probably the most tender he'd ever been with me.  But he didn't smile.  He didn't say, "Well done."  But he didn't say, "I'm disappointed in your decision, son," as I had feared he might.  So I took it as a win.  My little sisters claimed they were sad to see me go, but then they immediately started fighting over my room, so I figured mom put them up to saying they would miss me.  Debbie did write to me the first several months, so I guess at least she might have been genuine in her kind words.

I didn't really know what I was in for, leaving farm life to go to college in a "big city".  Now "big" is relative for someone who lived in the country between a town of 200 and a town of 425, but it was certainly big enough for my first stepping stone towards seeing the rest of the world.

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I was never beautiful.  Pretty, maybe, but not beautiful.  Still, my mother encouraged me to enter pageants when she saw my friend Ruby entering.  "You're every bit as pretty as Ruby," my mother would say.  "And you're smarter, too."  My mother was very good at complimenting me in a way that you could just tell made her feel good.  She said nice things about me, but I was her daughter, so look what a good job she had done.

At least my mother was there for me, unlike my father who had run out on us when I was three.  Mom took years to tell me where he had gone and when she finally did tell me, it was pretty anticlimactic.  Turned out he had run off to exotic South Dakota and was working on some pig farm or something.  Mom said something like, "He belongs with the pigs."  And then looked at me with her sad little smile and said, "Don't listen to your, Mama, sweetie.  If daddy ever comes home, you can tell him you love him, that would be just fine."  I guess she didn't want to seem like she was turning me against him or something, but there was no turning to do.  I didn't know my father.  I wouldn't even be able to pick him out of a police line-up if it ever came to that.  Mom had burned all the pictures of him when he left, so I didn't even have those to go on.  How would I possibly ever tell him I loved him?  That would make no sense at all.

But anyway, back to the beauty pageants.  I think my mother had once been beautiful when she was young and that's why she was so intent on getting me to compete.  Now that she was old and had bags under her eyes, no one looked at her twice.  She was over the hill and her days as prom queen, which she reminisced often about being, were long done.  I still had a chance, though.  But not if I waited too much longer.  I was already 12.  Now was the time to get started!

The first pageant I entered, I thought very little about.  It just seemed like some lame thing to do to satisfy my mom.  I would say I was decidedly indifferent about the whole thing.  That was, at least, until I got fifth place and my "friend" Ruby got third.  My mother howled the whole way home about how unfair the judges had been and how one of them must have had an in with Ruby's mother or something.  At first I just rolled my eyes, but the more my mother went on and on about how clearly superior to Ruby I was, I actually started to believe it.  By the time we got home, I'm not even sure I considered Ruby to be my friend anymore!

Well that was that.  I was determined to win the next pageant I was in.  Determined.  So determined that I managed to get second place.  My mother was thrilled, especially because it was Ruby who finished fifth that time, and beamed about me to everyone she saw.  But all I could envision was the perfect smile of the pre-teen brat who took home first place.  I don't even remember her name now, but my mother, Ruby, and her combined to push my fragile young ego to the limit and to prompt me to continue competing in pageant after pageant until I could take home the victor's crown.

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I married young.  Some said I was too young, my parents among them, but I loved my wife and she loved me.  We were deliriously happy together.  I suppose I spoiled the story of our courtship a bit by already revealing that we got married, but I'm sure you realize that marriage isn't the end of a story, it's the beginning.  If you're really interested in how we first met, though, I suppose I can tell you that story, too.

It was a crisp autumn day, wind whispering through the crunchy yellow and orange leaves.  It would knock them off the trees to the path before me and I would crunch them underfoot, but it was a happy crunch.  It made me smile.  As a photographer, fall was my favorite season.  Some people might prefer the shimmer of winter or the bright colors of spring or maybe even the vibrant sunshine of summer, but for me, those crisp autumn days are where it's all at.  And if I can capture the breeze in my lens, that's the most amazing shot of all.

I had come to the park that day intending to photograph nature.  I had been taking photos of the leaves already:  on the trees, along the path, blowing through that wonderful breeze, but I wanted to get some wild life as well.  I loved the idea of all the little animals that managed to make their home in the middle of a park in the big city.  I spotted a sparrow flitting through the trees and followed it with my camera, taking shots as it went.  I didn't entirely know where it was going, but I followed it along until it landed on a park bench.

I took a shot of it on the bench.  It hopped along.  I took another shot of it.  It hopped along.  I took another shot.  And this time, when it hopped along, it landed on the shoulder of a startled young woman who had been sitting on the park bench pouring over pages of writing deep in thought.  I managed to snap a photo right as she looked up in surprise at the touch of the birds gentle talons on her shoulder.  It was a great photo, and I love it with all my heart, but at the time, I was terrible embarrassed to have taken it.

She noticed me standing there, at a distance, just after I had snapped the photo.  She looked even more alarmed and a somewhat angry kind of alarmed.  I rushed over to assure her that I had been photographing the bird, who of course flew right off as soon as I made a move.  She felt the bird leave her shoulder, turned towards it and then looked back at me with a smile.  "You scared your friend away," she said as I approached.

"I'm so sorry," I said, rather flustered.

She just continued to smile.  "Don't apologize," she said.  "He was your little friend, not mine."

I decided to smile back.  "Certainly seemed like he liked you more," he said.

She gave a coy little smirk and shrugged.  "What's not to like?" she asked.

That completely took me aback.  What do you say in response to a woman who has enough confidence to say that about herself to a total stranger.  Fortunately, she filled the silence with, "Can I see it?"

My mind went straight to the gutter as I responded, "Excuse me?"

She laughed.  "The photo.  The one you just took?  Invading my privacy and all."

I looked around.  "Not much privacy in a park," I said.

She shrugged.  "I suppose not, but still, can I see it."

"Of course," I said, not even thinking as I sat down beside her on the bench.  As I pulled it up, I was quick to add, "I'll erase it if you like."

She laughed.  "Not a chance," she said, looking at the photo.  "Why don't you make a copy for me?  I'll be back here tomorrow at this same time if you want to drop it off."

"I need some time to touch it up," I said instinctively.

She glared at me playfully.  "What's not to like?" she repeated.  Then she smiled and said, "You're a really good photographer."

And that was the beginning.  When I came back the next day with the untouched up photo and saw her still pouring over her papers, I got up the nerve to ask her what she was working on.  Turned out she was a writer.  A writer and a photographer.  It was a match made in book publishing heaven.