Every year – every year since 5th grade – every Christmas. Same guy asks you out.
Bad enough he lives a block away from you – his parents are friends with your parents – he’s had a crush on you since grade school. He was the one who always farted in class – stared out the window – sent you notes and grinned.
You don’t like him – you never did – you are never going to. He loves you. You wonder when murder will be legal.
You’re a Senior now – you graduate in February – you got accepted to Bennington – 3,000 miles away. He’s going to LACC. Saving grace.
It’s the annual Christmas party at your dad’s company – mandatory you go. No excuses, you’ve tried them all. Your dad likes you – your dad likes him. You are doomed, but it’s your last time.
You’re going to have to dance with him – he will probably have body odor. You know he’ll have bad breath. Where are the cute guys when you need them? There is no God. Not even Santa Claus.
Slow Dance – he wraps himself around you like a Golden Retriever – you’re trapped. Your head presses against his shoulder. Thank god he has deodorant on. His heart is beating a million miles an hour – weird.
Dance is over – he only stepped on your foot once. You start to head back to your table – he hangs on to you and takes a deep breath. He apologizes – he what? He apologizes. Apologizes for everything going back to the 5th grade – apologizes for being a creep – apologizes for being an asshole. Apologizes for everything he did forever.
You don’t know what to make of it – is he planning on driving off a cliff? Does he have a fatal illness? Is he on drugs?
You are perplexed – he just wants to be friends – didn’t try to kiss you – didn’t do the accidental boob press – kept his hands above your waist when you danced. Must be drugs.
Home. In bed and the radio’s on. Staring awake at the ceiling.
Life makes no sense. Will it ever?
You wonder.
And the radio plays KMET for December 22, 1974.
