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Act I
I loved him because he was tall, taller than most boys his age or older. Walking down the long stretch of hallway to the band room, he towered over me, casting a shadow on my insignificant figure. Ironically, we both possessed the same sort of stature: tall, thin, and completely helpless when a strong gust of wind blew by. However, I still stood in the wake of his impressive height with the top of my head barely reaching the middle of his chest. I loved him because he was tall.
To be fair, I didn’t base my love for him solely on his height. Also to be completely and utterly honest, he wasn’t entirely someone to spend hours gawking over his beauty. It’s amazing that I even found him to be attractive in any way possible. His shaggy hair was blonde and hung in his face, shielding his blue eyes, which were just there. They served their purpose, adding nothing spectacular to his face, but simply fulfilling their obligation with the aid of either contact lenses or his hilariously goofy black-framed glasses.
As we walked together, silently, only the whir of the water fountains disturbed our peace. I was content, happy just to be next to him. Accidentally, his hand brushed my own, sending shock waves of excitement coursing throughout my entire body. Looking down, I attempted to hide my scarlet face, avoiding his mischievous eyes. Playfully, he pushed me, and not knowing what else to do, I shoved him back. Even though my spindly arms barely possessed any strength, he lost his balance and slammed into the wall.
“What did you do that for?” he asked me, looking hurt and deceived.
“I didn’t. I barely nudged you.”
“You’re breaking my heart, Casey,” he pleaded with me.
I stopped walking. There was something I wanted to say, but I doubted that he would truly understand what I meant. It was the undeniable truth that had been reinforced after years of repeated offenses.
“No, Adam, you are breaking my heart…again…”
I wanted to say it so bad. I wanted to scream in his face until my complexion was red from pent-up anger rather than childish embarrassment. Instead, I remained silent and brushed his remarks off. It wasn’t the first time I had done that, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Ninth grade was rough for everyone even though I imagined that I was the only student experiencing the unbridled angst that coursed through my life. That’s when Adam came along. He was different to say the least, a poet, a musician, and everything a junior high girl could have wanted. I loved him because he was tall, and everyone else loved him too.
How could everyone else be wrong?
He dressed how he liked, regardless of the latest disposable fashions that hit the racks of the department stores. When I first loved him, he wore plaid shorts, checkered Vans or Chucks, and tight t-shirts with the logos of various bands splayed across the front. We had the same taste in music with a severe love for the greatest of all bands, The Beatles.
To further add to his rock-and-roll mystique, he was the drummer for the greatest garage band to ever hit the small town of Knoxville, Particular Perspective. I loved him because he was tall, but I also loved him because of his love for music. He could play almost any instrument that he sat his hands on, willing it to produce whatever melodious wonder he wished.
My notebooks were filled with drawings of hearts surrounding his otherwise commonplace name and followed by a terrible poem that could never measure up to his greatness. Every single one of my thoughts, my daydreams was devoted entirely to him. What could he be doing at that exact same moment? And most importantly, was he thinking of me too?
I thought we were certain. After all, he had saved me a seat on the bus next to him. A seat solely for me and only for me. I almost died from excitement when he called my name and pointed to the empty seat next to him. Quickly, I sat down next to him and scooted closer towards him to make room for my fellow clarinet friend, Ashley.
“Ashley is going to sit with us, too, since there are no other seats,” I explained as though I had broken some rule.
“I only meant for you to sit with me.”
Trying not to take any special meaning out of his words, I started talking to him about the latest CD I had purchased and other musical topics. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and slid my precious shell ring off of my index finger. The action surprised me completely, and I had no idea what to say. He tried the ring on every one of his fingers, finding that his pinky was the only one that the small ring barely fit on.
“I have really small fingers,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“I know,” he said, taking off his own ring and handing it to me. “Try this one on.”
His ring only fit my thumb and was pretty loose at that. I looked down at the green jewel glittering faintly from the orange glow cast by the streetlamps outside of the bus. Wishing that I could keep the ring, another piece of him, forever, I reluctantly handed it back to him as he gave me mine. I thought we were certain
But we weren’t.
Even though I had stayed up as late as midnight, talking to him online, sharing my secret fears, and otherwise pouring out my entire soul to him, we were far from certain. Every night I prayed to God that Adam would love me as I adored him, and everyday I became more assured that God would answer all of my prayers. And then came the day before Valentine’s Day when he shattered all of my girlish hopes and dreams.
“I went driving with Olivia tonight,” Josh confided to me through MSN Messenger late at night after I asked what he had been up to.
“Oh, really? That sounds fun,” I lied. Truthfully, I was extremely jealous just at the thought of him being in the vicinity of another girl.
“Yeah, it was. We’ve been out driving every night since last week.”
A drive was important to Josh in his own weird way. Going out in his prized Volvo, nicknamed Petunia, and driving around aimlessly for three hours was a precious pastime to the curious boy. Something that I tried to understand but never entirely could. The action that someone else was included in one of his ventures also meant something to him, and I feared the worst, especially since I had never been invited to go driving with him before.
“Do you like Olivia?” I didn’t feel like beating around the bush that night. I was tired of talking in code, never saying everything I was thinking, and always keeping silent.
“Yes, I think I do.”
For a long time, I stared at the five simple words not knowing what to say or think. My mind was numb, and my twin blue eyes were stinging with tears. Trying to remain calm, I attempted to take in deep breaths but was unable to breathe at all. I could see my beautiful dream world crumbling all around me, and I could hear my hopes running a million miles away from me.
“I’m sorry,” he said after I stayed silent for a while, glad that we were only communicating via the Internet. After all, he couldn’t truly know how I felt at the moment.
“It’s alright,” I lied again, having trouble typing the deceitful words. “I have to go to bed. Goodnight.”
The rest of the night, I cried myself to sleep, questioning God and how he could let such a thing happen to me. How could He ignore my prayers, leaving me to suffer a fate as horrible as unrequited love? And how could Josh not love me as I loved him? How could he lead me on only to let me down?
Forced to attend school the next morning and suffer the tortures of Valentine’s Day alone and broken, I unwilling sat comatose for the entirety of my morning and afternoon classes. Everyone in the school knew that I was helplessly in love with Josh, and I couldn’t bring myself to admit that he wasn’t in love with me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, but I attempted to pretend that everything was alright. But everything wasn’t perfect. Everything was far from it.
“He likes Olivia? How did this happen?” my best friend, Teresa, questioned while we sat aimlessly in fifth period Pre-AP English.
“I don’t know,” I confessed, keeping my voice as low as possible so no one else would hear. “That’s just what he told me last night.”
“But I thought he liked you. Branden said that he liked you, and Branden would know.”
I just shook my head, completely defeated. “Well, apparently not. At least not enough anyways.”
I looked down at my spiral notebook containing my hastily scribbled notes on the star-crossed lovers, Romeo and Juliet. My eyesight went in and out of focus as teardrops clouded their vision, and I quickly wiped away the annoying droplets before they fell. I had cried enough for one night, for an eternity. But deep inside, I knew these were only the first of many tears.
“We’ll toilet paper her house then,” Teresa offered in an ill-fated attempt to lift my spirits.
“Thanks,” I murmured weakly, as she turned back around in her seat to face the front.
During lunch I was hardly conversational, staring at my typical peanut butter and jelly sandwich with scrutinizing eyes. No one really seemed to notice, and to tell the truth, I really didn’t want them to in the first place. To admit that I had failed in any sort of endeavor, romantic or otherwise, was appalling to me in everyway imaginable. It was as if I wasn’t good enough for him.
And then there was the dread of seeing Adam. Band was next hour, and due to the basketball game that night, we had to perform at the annual pep rally. With my clarinet clamped tightly in my tiny hands, I headed to the gymnasium early in hopes of avoiding Josh altogether. My roving eyes, however, failed me as in a moment of habit I turned around on the cold, steel bench and scanned the percussion row behind me just in time to catch a glimpse of him.
Our eyes locked instantly. This time, however, I did not look away as I had millions of times before. Instead, I held my ground, not even blinking for a second. I wanted him to see the pain evident in my eyes, to know the anguish that he was inflicting upon me. And then he looked away, unable to face me, powerless to say anything to me.
Not even “hello.”
I loved him because he was tall.
