Nostalgia?
There was a boy (in San Antonio) named Charles whom I had an off-again, on-again crush on from second grade through middle school. I had it so bad at one point that when I answered a question in class and the teacher misunderstood me, and Charles clarified what I said referring to me as “she”, I obsessed about it for weeks. Good lord, I thought, he realizes I’m female. We are obviously destined for each other.
We took the same computer science class in sixth grade. I was one of maybe 2 or 3 girls in the class, and a little dumbstruck to be around all those boys. One day we had a homework assignment that required a calculator. Charles told the teacher that he didn’t have one. I had an extra one at home, so fighting off terminal shyness I told him to borrow mine – a credit card sized brass calculator that came in its own little brass carrying case. I think it might have even done square roots. Fancy.
Knowing that one of my belongings had gone home with him, had probably spent the night in his room, almost made me swoon. The next day just before class started he came over to me and gave me back my calculator. I was so disappointed – we had no tie, now; there was no material thing to behold him to me. As he handed me the calculator, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, his warm boy-breath making goosebumps crawl down my arms and back.
“Ghadsufbish.”
“What?”
“Smurdmofrig.”
“Oh, ok.”
To this day I have no idea what he said. It has been 22 years now, and not a month goes by that I don’t wonder. Did he ask me to a dance? Tell me that the calculator broke? Ask to copy my homework? Tell me I was beautiful? Say thanks?
My only hope is that he will do a vanity search on his name one day and see this post and answer me. He’ll know who I am – I’m the one whom Mrs. Wilson threatened to tie together with him and dangle out the window in second grade.