Affairs of the Heart- A Comedy in 3 Acts; Act 1, scene 2

It is part of a autobiographical project dealing with relationships and continues from where 'Affairs of the Heart- A Comedy in 3 Acts; The Prologue and The First Crush' left off. 'The Obession' is about an individual I have written about before and who

The Obsession.

 

 

 

 

 

The hole that was left in my heart after Christine moved away was filled by Kimberly. Kimberly hated my guts. Well, to be honest she didn’t hate me at first. As a matter of fact I think she even kind of liked me in a way and we could’ve been friends if circumstances had gone differently. Those circumstances were of my own doing and that is why she ended up hating me for the next 6 years until we graduated from high school.

 

It was the sixth grade and a new beginning in a new school. We were in Junior High School. It was the middle road between being considered a child and a teenager. We had different classes, different schedules, different activities all geared to prepare us for that final step that would take us to adulthood-HIGH SCHOOL. It was exciting. It was challenging. It was frightening and exhilarating both at the same time. But, most of all it was- confusing.

 

We were freshman and everything about junior high school was confusing on many levels. The concept of different classes in differing subjects were alien to us who had only known one teacher, one classroom for each succeeding school year (sometimes you may have had the same teacher twice if he, or she taught a grade level up in the following year). Now we were expected to remember six different teachers in six different classes each with their own rules and quirks. It also meant you could also easily end up with homework on six different subjects. To make matters more difficult we only had a three month semester before a new set of teachers would be assign to us beginning the whole process all over again. And just to make things even more daunting was the way the courses were assigned.

 

Whoever came up with the system that set up our individual course assignments for the semester had to have been a sadist to the Nth degree. Not only were our assigned rooms scattered across a three dimensional obstacle course (our building had three floors with stairs at each corner of the building reaching all three levels and a center main stairway that only went up two flights) we were also expected to traverse this within the allotted time. Five minutes for an unprepared freshman was like a death race against time. The last thing you wanted was to be the last one to enter the classroom, or worst yet, be the one who walked in after class began. It guaranteed that all eyes would be upon you as you walked in and became the focus of the teacher’s concentration once the class started. But all things being relative, those five minutes of raging terror were nothing compared to the fifty-five minutes of eternal boredom that made up class time. And if you had Civics or Math after lunch, during that part of the day when your brain starts to shutdown because of carb overload, you would have started to believe that growing up wasn’t such a great idea. Unfortunately, your body didn’t share that point of view.

 

Not only were there changes going on around us there were changes going on within. Nature was pushing and pulling us straight and ever on course from a happy and carefree child towards that inevitable destination where we all end up miserable and neurotic adults. Part of the fun (if you want to call it that) was getting there. To some it was an adventure filled with wondrous awe. To others it was Hell on Earth and filled with fear and cynicism. However way you wanted to look at it one change became universal to all of us- that the superficial schism that had existed between the sexes. Differences we soon learn that were becoming too obvious to ignore. All throughout my life up to this point I had been trained to snicker and joke about “b***s” and “booties” never really giving a serious thought about them until I met Kimberly.

 

Kimberly was short with a cute button nose, pretty hazel eyes, slightly olive skin, and short dark brown hair. When she smiled, it was as if the radiance of the sun itself had entered the room. She also had a petite body that accentuated certain anatomical areas. I was love struck from the moment I first saw her walking into first hour class.

 

There were differences between Christine and Kimberly were other then physical. Where as Christine was very much of a girlie-girl, Kim was tomboyish. Christine was quiet, reserved, and lady-like. Kim was loud, boisterous, and usually knew what she wanted and how to get. But the major difference between the two was that Kimberly was very intelligent and driven even as a child. This was not to say that Christine was a moron, or even an academic slacker for that fact, but compared to Kim she lack sophistication. Kimberly was smart. She was very smart. She may have been even too smart and that is what may have intimidated every single boy in sixth grade (hell, it didn’t make many upper classmen feel too comfortable either). This was to have a profound influence on me for the rest of my life.

 

Now, I wasn’t ever one who was exceptional in any way. Okay, to be honest, until the whole Christine thing nobody ever any paid attention to me. I was a dorky, foreign-looking Mexican immigrant who was slightly over-weight and was starting to get acne. But, with Kimberly I wanted to be noticed and, to be specific, I wanted her to notice me in a positive way. Becoming academically well read became an incentive to me and I applied myself to reach that goal. In other words, I wanted to become a nerd to, as was my thinking at the time, to please Kimberly.

 

That was the plan. I started to read a lot and in subjects I wouldn’t not have considered before reading. I purposely took interest in everything she liked (she wanted to be a general practicing MD, liked classical music, played softball and had been on a church mission to Israel the previous year) so I took all the advance math and science courses, developed a sense of culture, got into sports and learn everything I could about the Middle East. All throughout the sixth grade I absorbed knowledge like a sponge yet, remaining aloof so as to not give away my true intent (my previous mistake with Christine led me to think this way). It was also part of the plan to improve my looks by scrapping the large sweat shirts and dungareens for leisure suits with floral shirts and patent leather shoes. I was going to wait my time and become her equal before I let her know my true feelings. That day I felt finally came two weeks before Summer vacation.

 

As you read this you probably have been cringing from within and thinking, “what the hell is he thinking”? Well, I was thinking like a hormonally charge, socially inept, twelve year-old boy who didn’t understand girls. I was totally clueless as to how they function on a social level what appearances really mean. I thought and believed that I was her perfect match and that we could be together, forever. I thought, “heck, what could go wrong”? Little could I have ever dreamt of how horribly wrong things really could have gone wrong as on the day I told her how I really felt and Kimberly ended up hating me.

 

Not having learned my lesson the first time I stuck to my previous method of passing a written note. This time I wrote it in English and said plainly, “I Love You Kim” with hearts. I folded it into a tight package and tossed it in her direction as we sat in class. Now, for the benefit of some geographical considerations, she sat to the right of two desks in front of me. Directly in front sat my best friend Scott (who still believed girls were alien and carried “cooties”) and in front of him, and next to Kimberly on her left, sat Suzanne who was her best friend (and who thought boys were strange and stupid). To my right was Leslie, the biggest gossip in school.

 

My toss went wild, veered to the right, hit Kim’s shoulder and bounced unto Scott’s desk. I went into a wide-eyed panic seizure when I saw Scott open the note and went into uncontrollable hysterics of laughter. Suzanne, wondering what the heck was wrong with this moron who had just kick the back of her seat, turned around and was given the note by Scott. She read it and started to laugh as well. Of course, by now the class had a peaked interest as to what was happening and even the teacher became involved. Mr. Kooi (yep, no misspelling there and ever looking like and speaking like a math teacher in his dress shirt, tie and pocket protector) plucked the note from Suzanne, read it, and said out loud, “Kimberly, I believe this is intended for you”. She read it.

 

In my catatonic state of pure panic I can still remember the rising crimson on her cheeks, the bulging hazel eyes, her lips becoming a tight lined slit as she gripped the piece of notebook paper in her increasingly intense hands. She first looked at Suzanne, who pointed at Scott, who quickly went into denial by raising his hands and pointed at me. She then turn in my direction, saw me in my terror state, quickly slit her eyes in pure hatred as she crumpled the note. None of this spectacle was lost on Leslie and who was having a fit of her own wanting to spread throughout the entire school as to what had just happen.

 

Summer vacation came, and then the seventh grade and things had not cooled down. Part of the reason was that I felt that I had invested too much time and effort and I was not going to give in easily. Another reason was that a transformation of sorts had occurred over my social status and that I had found myself becoming a leader among the ‘nerds’. Apparently my brash and bold attempt at such a lofty goal as ‘Kimberly’ was considered heroic and should be respected. All of this did nothing more then encourage me and further fueled Kimberly’s hostility towards me.

 

Summer came again with no real change, then the eighth grade, then Summer once again and then high school. In the ninth grade we were freshman again in a new school, new format, new perils as a minor individual in the social pecking order. The only thing that had not changed was continually failing efforts to impress Kimberly and her continued animosity. It became so habit that we both fell into a regular routine, I would become skilled at some obscure knowledge in order to make an impression and she would find something to be critical about it. It was like acting as an old couple without actually being a couple.

 

There were moments when we had to work together; when we were forced to be lab partners, played parts in drama club, or when we found ourselves independently supporting the same causes. It was those times when I would not try so hard, and I think she was trying not to dislike me as much, and for a moment it would look like how it would appear if we were actually friends. But immediately, the moment would be lost and we would fall back into our pattern and remain as we had become. Things change very little and then sometime around the tenth grade she started dating and had a boyfriend and it all came to an end for me.

 

Did I give up? Yes. Were you disappointed over the fact that you weren’t, or could ever have been, anyone she would go out with? Yes. Did it bother you? Yes. Did you feel like a failure? No. Something happened to me that I had not been aware of. I became the person I am today and I became that person because of her. Today I am a loving, thoughtful, insightful, and intelligent person who has grown up caring about others. I have grown up believing in hope and to have faith in myself. And finally, I will not ever think that I cannot improve myself.

 

Even though she only exist as a memory now I still can’t stop wanting to think that I could have pleased her. I can’t stop that need within myself to prove that “I am and always was worthy”. To try and try harder until someday I can say, “Kim, this is for you”!!! Sad, isn’t it? Or maybe not if you see the sum of what it has given me - a purpose to continue to do better, to be kind, and to survive. Maybe someday I’ll prove it to her, or then again maybe not. Maybe someday I’ll just totally give up and realize that it never really was about her.