Jennifer.: Memoir of a Girl

By Jennifer Patton

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 9, 2009
• ISBN: 9781462812790

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Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Patton.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

~~~Stage I~~~

Introduction

Hurt

Childhood

Newfoundland

Bryan

Cam

Mark

Crashing down

Leavetakings

Visit with Tanya

Virginia

Depression

Poplar Bluff

~~~Stage II~~~

Carl

Abortion

Relocation

Prom Night Fiasco

Ron

A Chance Encounter

Could it be love?

Trae

Matthew

Marriage from Hell

Trent and Devin

The Final Cut

Divorce

The Worst Day of my Life or Daddy

The Birth of Jenna Leigh

Rodney

Jared

Spring Break Debauchery

Jason—Or my W.T.F. Moment

Charles

Cancer

Kevin

Relapse

Epiphany or Last Shot at Love with Matt

~~~Stage III~~~

Realizations

My Boys

Coming Clean

Admonitions

~Nom myoho renge kyo~

-Buddhist chant-

The lotus is a flower that grows in the mud, the deeper the mud,

the more the lotus blooms.

This is dedicated to:

My always devoted, always true mother, Lynne.

My dearly departed and sorely missed father, Micheal.

I hope you are proud of me, Daddy.

My heaven-sent children, Trae, Trent and Devin.

Thank you for loving me.

My sisters, blood and soul.

I love you.

Heather

Stephanie

Tanya

Jennifer

~~~Stage I~~~

Just Jenny

Old Wounds

Introduction

Okay, here I sit, pen in hand, waiting for inspiration. Come on now, girl. You CAN write. The block is just your ego. The words will flow easily once you stop being scared. I am a brilliant writer and one day soon the whole world will know. I will tell every detail of my occasionally sordid life. There is so much to tell and I am not really sure where to begin. Even now I find myself sorting through 31 years of data and experiences. I have been through abuse, ridicule, rape, more relationships than Scarlett O’Hara, drugs, cancer, childbirth and two marriages. You would think that my story would flow like water, but it isn’t true. You have to have a beginning. What is mine? Do I go back to the early days of my infancy? Back to when Jennifer Patton first entered this world? Hell, I barely remember those days. Maybe that’s too far back. Intermittent flashes of memory make it difficult to relate back.

I do remember the spindly-legged little girl I used to be. Rather Plain-Jane, actually. I had mousy brown hair-the bangs unevenly cut as usual (thanks, Mom). My eyes matched my hair, except for the god-awful, plastic-framed objects of my loathing growing up, my glasses. I hated them. I was a nerd, pure and simple.

It was the 1980s and if you weren’t new wave, punk or pop, you were nothing. I didn’t really have a style. Mom bought all my clothes and I didn’t get much input. Nothing designer like the pretty, preppy girls I went to school with. Big, flowered jams, leg warmers, generic shoes-just your typical geek. But I’m skipping too far ahead. I need to start a few years before when one horrifying incident would set the course of my growing up.

Hurt

It was the annual base picnic/campout at Daddy’s naval station in Oahu, Hawaii. The crowd was fairly large and everyone was enjoying themselves. Children ran up and down the beach, the men stood at the grill telling macho stories and laughing, and the wives and girlfriends sat on blankets, chatting, drinking and watching us kids. It was a cornucopia of people, food, booze, sodas and every barbecue side dish imaginable.

I remember sitting on the sand, listening to Daddy and his friends warbling out Addicted to Love and watching the waves lapping on the beach. I sat there in my favorite swim suit. It was a two-piece, green with red and white stripes. The little triangles that made up the top covered my itty-bitty nips completely, so it wasn’t indecent or anything. It made me feel more grown up to wear a bikini.

I sat there on the warm dry sand for a while. Water droplets on my sun-browned skin dried quickly in the tropical breeze. The once-wet sand on my feet was drying out and flaking off. I was almost completely dry and just about to get up and go find Mom when this strange guy walked up and crouched down beside me. I guess he was 20ish; for the life of me I cannot remember his face, just that he had swimming trunks on and dog tags swinging against his bare chest. Now, I did not know this man from Adam, but I was a painfully shy 6 year old girl and just didn’t have the courage to stand up and walk away. So I just kept sitting there, looking out at the ocean and the kids running on the shore, wishing I was with them and not up here with this stranger. I was completely bewildered as to what this man wanted. Was he a friend of Daddy’s? I don’t remember anything he said except that it wasn’t good to leave sand in your swimsuit and that he could help me. I didn’t understand what this meant, and I felt uneasy with this stranger so close to me. What did he want? Why wasn’t anyone else around? I wanted Mommy, but I was just too nervous to make any move at all, so I just sat there, frozen with uncertainty.

Then I started to feel the man’s hands brushing sand off of my legs. His fingers seemed to be inching higher and higher, up my thigh, and then slipping into the leg of my swimsuit bottoms, and then into me. I was so scared. His fingers burned like fire, but he just kept telling me that it was the sand particles in my swimsuit causing me pain. My little girl’s mind just completely shut down. Luckily, someone shouted out that the burgers were done and the stranger stopped touching me. He told me not to say anything or Daddy and Mommy would be mad. Then he was gone.

I still sat there, my once sun-warmed skin prickling with goose bumps. My privates burned and I felt tears stinging the backs of my eyes. Was I naughty? I felt badly. Part of me longed to run to Mommy and tell her of my scary and painful experience. Why did the man do it? Was I a bad girl because of it? So many confused and upset questions circled my 6 year old brain. After what felt like forever, I stood up carefully-I was really sore-and slowly walked back over to the beach.

Everyone was having a great time, sitting around the picnic tables, gorging on grilled hamburgers with all the fixings, potato chips of all varieties and the assorted side dishes. No one knew about anything, but I still couldn’t look anyone in the face. I wrapped my towel around my body protectively, wishing now that I had a one piece swimsuit, and sat sullenly on the edge of the picnic bench with my sisters. They were eating, but I just didn’t have any appetite anymore. Mommy came over, smiling. She fluffed my hair and said something about going home soon. Everything in my body wanted to scream out, but I remained silent.

From then on, when I was upset about something I squelched it. No opinion, no emotion-just silence. The saddest consequence of this ordeal is that I’ve never been able to fully trust men-not even my own beloved Daddy-again.

Childhood

Okay, now allow me a moment to clear my mind of this heartbreaking incident. Thank you. Now let’s fast forward a few years. I do have some happy childhood memories, don’t get me wrong. Playing endless hours of Barbies with my sister, Heather, and the beautiful hours and hours of playtime out in the balmy, tropical sunshine of most of my youth, just to name a few. I was blessed with wonderful parents. I guess you could say that I was spoiled, but I was the first born. I used to get a gift on my sisters’ birthday so I wouldn’t feel left out. I know, I know-you brat! Believe it or not, I never asked for any of these things.

I remember driving my sisters crazy by being such a goody-goody. There were lots of times that I felt very lonely growing up because my sisters found me to be no fun. I was always able to see Mom and Dad’s point of view and, unfortunately, I was a bit of a tattle tail. I never wanted to do anything wrong or wild, and if one of my sisters was acting out, I always felt that my parents needed to know. I guess you could say I was 10 years old, going on 40.

When we were little girls Heather and I were like two peas in a pod and Stephanie was kind of the loner, which was odd since Heather and Steph were fraternal twins. She always had separate friends outside the family and Heather and I had each other. I will always remember the all-night Barbie soap operas we played out on weekends. Sometimes Mom would let us take over her and Dad’s giant bedroom and we would cover the whole floor with our doll’s bedrooms, kitchens, living rooms, nurseries, etc. Heather and I would use Mom’s pillowcases of all colors and patterns for our mansion-esque carpeting. Each pillowcase was a different room. We had a huge collection of Barbie furniture, oodles of odds and ends like itty-bitty utensils and dishes, bunches of shoes, purses, jewelry, hair brushes, pony tails for the long-haired dolls-you name it, we had it.

To us, Barbie was a real teenage girl with all the clothes and accessories a teenage girl could possibly want. Our imaginations acted out fantasies of how we thought it would be to be a gorgeous, rich teenager. I remember what really inspired us: our favorite cartoon then, Beverly Hills teens. We lived for this show. Everyone was wealthy, beautiful and had everything they could dream of. We would have the entire cast of the show re-enacted with our dolls. They dressed like them, acted like them, they were them. I even went so far as to draw each and every character and color them just exactly like the cartoon. Heather was always so impressed and sometimes we would even play paper dolls with my drawings.

Looking back on it now makes me smile. The innocence of those days will never be forgotten. Heather was my best friend as well as my sister. She always played the role of my boyfriend as Ken. (Ha, ha) . . . she made a good guy. We still joke about that today. It’s a real shame that little girls grow up so fast these days. The pristine and innocent fun of being a little girl is something to be treasured. I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

After the Barbies and baby dolls faded from our youth, Heather and I started drifting apart. Stephanie, the more rebellious of the twins, was beginning to look more appealing to her and the two got closer. Alas, childhood is full of changing and adapting. For one thing, we became the proud owners of a cute little beagle/dachshund named Spunky. She loved to chase you if you were wearing red socks-it was quite amusing. Then there was Maximilian, or Max for short. He was a sweet, lumbering malamute puppy who ate everything he could get his jaws on, including my Magic Moves Barbie. She was just never the same after Max ate off her feet . . .

As time went on other people came into our lives and we moved around a lot. Daddy was in the Navy for over 20 years and because of that every three years or so we would pack up and start over somewhere new. I did get to see some beautiful places in the world. We lived in Key West, the Bahamas, Guam, Hawaii, Virginia Beach twice, and Newfoundland twice. In fact, my twin sisters were born in Newfoundland-this made them bonafide Newfies. God, that word hasn’t entered my mind in a long time. Now some of these exotic locales I barely remember because I was so young. Luckily, Mom and Dad took a lot of pictures to remind us. I love our old photo albums. You could always tell which pictures Mom had taken because she always managed to accidentally get her thumb in the shot. So funny . . . gotta love Mom. I will always look back fondly on these years with my parents. I was truly blessed to have both of them and I wouldn’t trade either one for a million dollars.

Okay, back on track. It’s hard to stay focused on my early years because my childhood memories are so scattered. I have lived a lot of life for just being 31 years old now. Please bear with me. Alright, now as the years went on I became more and more alone. School was always dreaded. I was a bully magnet. Ever since kindergarten I encountered some mean little boy or girl who sought out my meek shyness like they had nerd radar. Whether I was being cornered in the girl’s bathroom or made a joke of in the girl’s locker room, I was always picked out as the geek that the popular girls tried to make a fool of. I can even remember being trapped on the monkey bars by my latest bully at the time and I think I was only in the first grade then. I’m sure a lot of you women out there can relate. Girls can be evil-pure and simple.

Because of all this, most of the time I hated school. Adolescence was so difficult. I felt ugly and embarrassed through those touchy years. I hated my glasses, I hated my hair, I hated my clothes. I wanted so badly to be pretty and popular. I think all those traumatic years of innocence damaging and adolescent angst led to a lot of my bad choices when I got older. It takes a very long time for old scars to heal. I am just now taking charge of my life and who I am. I actually like myself now.

Nevertheless, at the time of my tweens and teens I felt like hell. Even my 16th birthday was a bust. No one came to my party-so humiliating. First I need to go back a few years to a time when I was actually okay with being me.

Newfoundland

We had just moved to Argentina, Newfoundland on a small naval base. There was only one school on the entire base. It went from kindergarten all the way to 8th grade-A.L. Bristol School. I will never forget that time in my life because it was the first time I was given the chance to taste popularity and being liked by boys.

Everyone knew everyone’s business, but because of that, there was a lot more accepting of others. I even made friends with some of the bad girls. Life became completely topsy-turvy and being me was suddenly okay. At last, God had smiled down on me and decided to show me a little social sunshine.

My first friend was Elaine, a so-called bad girl. She was a little heavyset, wore head-to-toe black, complete with the darkest black kohl eye liner she could find. Elaine was goth before Marilyn Manson was goth. We bonded over music. We both had a deep appreciation for hard rock and heavy metal. I had fallen in love with Guns N’ Roses just before we had moved away from Virginia Beach, where I had been a social pariah. Now, here I was in Canada and I was actually being accepted.

My musical tastes than expressed the anger and anguish I felt being me. I loved Guns N’ Roses, as I already mentioned, Cinderella, Def Leppard-all the hair bands. Elaine and I hung out with another bad girl-Tina. She was a pretty, outgoing Filipino girl with a forever tan and thick, black, long hair that always covered one eye. Tina was Elaine’s best friend and she loved Bon Jovi-another great hair band. She wanted to marry Jon Bon Jovi, Elaine wanted to marry Joe Elliot, and I wanted to marry Axl Rose. We complimented each other perfectly.

The three of us would sit together at our lunch table, all of us wearing dark blue sateen club jackets with Argentia printed down the front side in white to match the stripes on the hem and the cuffs. It looked like a jock’s jacket-I felt like we were the Pink Ladies from Grease. It was liberating. I was actually popular. I even spent the night at Elaine’s house a couple of times. To seem cooler, I went out of my way to impress them. I would cuss a lot, wear heavy make up and try to be older looking and acting than my 12 years of age. It didn’t work for very long. Friendships were fleeting in Argentia. Elaine moved back to her hometown of Kalamazoo, Michigan with her family and Tina bonded with someone else. This was when I met one of my dearest and oldest friends, Tanya.

Funny enough, but when we met at the beginning of the 7th grade she mistook my shyness for snobbery and ignored me. Anyway, in our teacher, Mr. Velez’s new seating arrangement since Elaine’s departure I ended up sitting next to Tanya. She was the smartest and the tallest person in the class. She also turned out to be sweet, funny, and very shy-like me. She was also a very talented artist. After we each got past our shy exteriors we became fast friends. In fact, I started sleeping over at her house the first weekend we befriended each other. We had a lot of similar tastes. We both loved heavy metal. We bought the cassette Metallica-And Justice for All together at the base’s mini-mart. We also shared the secret love of a certain boy named Bryan.

Bryan

(Sigh) . . . he was my first crush that I actually got the chance to get to know. All the girls loved Bryan. He was tall, athletic, and had the cutest butt you ever saw on a guy. He always wore faded jeans that actually fit-not the saggy, baggy, pimp daddy-looking jeans that boys wear nowadays. They showcased his backside so well that all the girls in the 7th and 8th grade class were always trying to watch for Bryan to bend over, or walk away, or even run. He also had gorgeous legs. They were muscular and naturally tan with the softest looking pale blonde hair. We always looked forward to summer in hopes that Bryan would wear shorts and we would be able to see those perfectly muscled thighs and calves. He looked like he had grown up in California. To put the cherry on top of this sweet hottie-sundae, he was really a nice guy. No ego whatsoever-he got along with everyone.

After a few months of living on a hill on the base in a too small house, we moved farther into the neighborhood and I was now walking distance from Tanya-and Bryan. It was the best summer I remember there. Our dog, Spunky had puppies and we got to take care of all of them. Bryan and his friends always walked down to visit the dogs. Everyone wanted one. They were adorable. Tanya and I lived at each other’s houses. I absolutely loved living in that neighborhood. Tanya and I were friends with all the guys because for one thing, she was brilliant and helped some of them with their homework in various subjects, and two, I had all our favorite metal songs lyrics written down, so we were the boys’ go-to girls for the school talent shows.

The boys couldn’t believe that such meek and mild girls like Tanya and I liked such aggressive music. They bonded with us over it. Bryan was always coming up to both of us to get the lyrics for certain songs and we were always happy to oblige. Bryan and his buddies were all playing a rock band for the school’s lip sync contest. I believe that lip synching was for us, what karaoke is for kids today. Anyhow, Bryan and his friends (Ed and Mike, respectively), were a cross between Guns N’ Roses and Metallica. I remember Bryan was the guitarist when the guys performed One my Metallica, and he was the lead singer when they did Paradise City by Guns N’ Roses.

Tanya and I used to spend hours listening, re-listening and transcribing song lyrics. We must have had at least 50 songs. It was well worth it to have Bryan and his friends on my front porch everyday. They would practice in my driveway with Tanya and I as the audience. It was so fun, cheering for them, just like we would for the real band members. Tina and the other girls were kind of jealous-it was great. Two shy, somewhat unpopular girls were getting all the boys’ attention, for once. Tina used to chase Bryan down all the time-I never had to chase him. I would come home and sometimes Bryan would be sitting on my front porch, waiting for me. I remember the feeling of my heart jumping for joy when Dad would pull up his old, blue Scout in our parking place and there sat my blue-eyed prince on my front step, the sun shining on his light brown hair. God, I loved him!

I would spend countless hours hanging out in Tanya’s bedroom, gushing about Bryan. She would always say that she believed that he really liked me and I should ask him out. This was the kind of person she was, and still is today. Even though she was crushing on him as well, she put her own feelings aside for my happiness. Tanya, I will always love you for being so selfless. She would even draw pictures of Bryan and me together as a couple. According to her, he liked me just as much as I liked him and something drastic needed to be done. One day, after school, she told me her brilliant idea.

Tanya would help me write Bryan a letter to find out once and for all-did he or didn’t he? At the thought of actually revealing my feelings for Bryan to Bryan I felt nauseous. I buried my face in my hands. No way! He was too cute and popular. Tanya was delusional . . . I just kept throwing negatives at her. Then she said something that made it seem a little bit less like self-esteem suicide. The letter would be anonymous and we would make a list of girls in our class and have Bryan put a check mark in the box next to the right name. Yes, the letter was complete with the old, cheesy stand-by, check yes or no. Tanya put several girls’ names on the letter with little square boxes drawn next to them. She even put her own name-and mine, of course. She had it figured that the simple print and our including several other girls’ names would save us from any embarrassing finger pointing. Strangely enough, all of this was starting to make sense. It was becoming plausible in my head. Tanya was just so damned hopeful for me and I did love the fantasy of Bryan actually liking me. Could it even be possible? God, Tanya even asked her little brother, Geoff about it and he told her he thought the letter was a good idea also! The only problem was HOW to give Bryan the letter without incriminating ourselves? Good question.

Timing was everything. He needed to be away from the other boys or disaster would ensue. How were we going to pull this off? Somehow it got decided that Bryan should get the letter on the school bus secretly and that he should be instructed not to even look at it until he was alone. This was going to be tricky, but now who was going to actually give Bryan the note? Neither one of us wanted the humiliation so it was agreed that it would be snuck into one of his textbooks when he wasn’t paying attention. When all the guys got together on the bus, they all threw their books into one seat, and then piled into the back bench to bullshit and what not. Bryan’s books would be left discarded alone in a bus seat. We would fold up the letter and write instructions of secrecy on top of it. With any luck, Bryan wouldn’t even discover the note until he got to class, and he was a nice guy, he would follow instructions. Sure, why not?

Now the next part of this scheme is fuzzy to me, but somehow the letter ended up in one of Bryan’s textbooks. I think we had one of the 1st graders do it. Alice, I believe-Bryan used to babysit her on weekends. I do remember the outcome of this little subterfuge, however. God, it makes me want to cringe, even now, thinking about it. Even though the letter did make it into Bryan’s book, not ALL of it did. The corner or something was sticking out and when Bryan went to pick his books up so he could sit down, as the bus driver had ordered, he noticed it. Being curious, he lifted the front cover of his book to find out what it was exactly. That’s when it happened. The bus made a rather sharp turn and Bryan’s grip on his books faltered for a second. Unfortunately, it was one second too many and the precious, secret letter fell out and landed on the floor between Bryan and the guy sitting next to him. This turned out to be his buddy, Mike. He was famous for being a troublemaker and scooped up the letter before Bryan could retrieve it himself. My heart sank. I felt sick. I was sitting with Tanya just a few rows ahead of the boys, but I still heard the apocalyptic dude, what’s this? Then Mike read aloud the instructions Tanya had so carefully written. Before long, laughter erupted from the back of the bus. First I heard Mike, then Bryan’s other friend, Ed started laughing and soon Tanya and my letter was being passed around the back of the bus. Mortified, but relieved that our names were not recognized as the guilty parties, Tanya and I just sat there on our bus seat, pretending nonchalance and feigning knowledge of anything amiss. I prayed that my cheeks weren’t aflame with embarrassment. Please God, don’t let any of the boys realize who wrote the letter. I wanted off the bus desperately. Tanya just smiled at me, rather uneasily. It would be okay. So far we were in the clear, but now we would never know how Bryan truly felt about me. What a disaster! I hadn’t heard anything from him at all. He was sort of going along with the other guys, but it seemed put-on. He wasn’t really laughing. For one second, I thought that if things had worked out right Bryan might have actually taken Tanya’s and my letter seriously. Damn our bad luck!

I never did find out how Bryan truly felt. To make things worse, Tanya moved away. We had been so close and then her father had received orders to move to Maine. In a matter of months my best friend in the whole world was gone. Letters were our only form of communication now. We did write each other all the time. I have a big denim bag full of memories from those years—including the drawings from Tanya! I still love you, girl and when I get this published you are getting an autographed copy! Tanya has loved and supported me through all my drama.

Okay, now after Tanya moved I became part of a circle of friends. Tanya and I had been monogamous, but now I was part of a small group. My circle consisted of Tina, Marriah, and Jenine. Once again, this group of girls was popular. I was the shyest one. Tina was such a flirt and Marriah was always playing and wrestling around with the boys. Jenine was very aloof and Marriah’s best friend. I was the outsider of their trio a lot, but I was still glad not to be alone.

I remember hanging out at Tina’s and head banging to our favorite Much Music (Canada’s answer to MTV) hair band videos. We were all jumping up and down all over the furniture in the living room. All of us had relatively long, dark hair, so it looked very 80s-metal. Good times.

On the other side of the spectrum, they always had guys interested in them, and they would try to set me up with strangers. Ugh! I always felt like the ugly duckling hanging out with swans. These friendships were flimsy and fun with no real substance. I have no idea where any of these girls are today. I wish them well, however.

A heartbreaking day dawned for us girls. Bryan moved back to California. His mother gave me his new address. He was moving in with his dad. I actually wrote him once and he wrote back-he even sent me Skid Row’s first cassette! I still have the letter in my bag of memories. It was very cut and dry, but I was too nervous to ever write anything meaningful. I wonder what Bryan is doing today . . .

Cam

Something else very memorable happened. Tina moved away, and a boy named Cameron moved in. I guess you could call him my first boyfriend. He moved from California and was unlike anyone I had ever met. He had dark hair that curled at the ends down his neck, beautiful light blue eyes and he already stood 6 feet tall at 13 years of age! I liked his look right away. I remember his black satin jacket with the Chinese dragon sewn onto the back. He was cool. He wasn’t scrawny or fat-just right down the middle. He also had the wackiest mind ever. He cracked everyone up. Cam joined Mr. Velez’s class when I was in the 8th grade.

Our first attempt at getting together was disastrous. We were set up by friends. This is never a good idea. Cameron, or Cam, as everyone called him, made friends with the other guys pretty quickly. My girl friend, Marriah decided to cross gender lines and ask Mike to ask out Cam for me! (Screaming) . . . Complete mortification! Marriah called me and informed me that we were meeting up at the movies on Friday night. I screamed again and immediately started freaking out. Marriah was very positive about the whole thing. It would be fine. We would make a cute couple. All of this attempted reassuring fell on deaf ears. All I could think about was how humiliated I felt. What if he was just trying not to hurt my feelings? What if he looked at our date as an obligation and not a fun night out? How could Marriah have done this to me? I tried to express myself to her without yelling or crying. My self-esteem was scared to death. She told me that she would help me get ready. Outfit choosing, make up, hair-girls love a makeover. I agreed to this idea. Marriah was really pretty-she also had big boobs. I wished I could borrow those for my date. Oh, well. I was still growing. Anyway, Marriah could help me look hot. After finalizing our plan we hung up. She wanted me to bring over a couple of things and maybe I could borrow something from her closet. This was good. She had some cute clothes. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

Friday came quickly and after having successfully avoided Cam all day, school was out and the clock was ticking. I decided to bring a couple of denim miniskirts and my make up bag to Marriah’s house. Our new friend, Michelle (another new kid) was going to do my hair and make up. Michelle was fresh from Virginia Beach and knew all the latest styles. Plus, she was dating Cam’s little brother, Chris. She could tell me things about Cam. We were all meeting up at Marriah’s house soon. My date started at 7:00 pm. I already had butterflies and it was only 3:30 pm. Please God, help me get through this date without embarrassing myself.

The day seemed to be racing by. Mom had dropped me off at Marriah’s and now my friends were hustling and bustling around me. Marriah had selected a little white, cropped denim jacket of hers to go with my black denim mini. A cute button-up black tank was under the jacket and a silver buckled belt shone from my midsection. All in all an adorable date outfit. I was starting to feel pretty. Michelle teased my long hair and used at least half a can of hair spray keeping it in place. I wore Marriah’s silver hoops and now it was make up time. Michelle used lots of black eyeliner and mascara to stand out behind my glasses. I looked so much better without them! I wished I could go without them, just this once. Eye shadow, blush and lipstick completed my look. Not bad at all. My girls said I looked hot and gave me a thumbs-up. I did feel prettier. Maybe Cam would be pleasantly surprised. I stood in front of Marriah’s full length mirror and checked out my reflection. The butterflies fluttered in my stomach. It was almost time to go. Soon Marriah’s mom would take us in her car and drop us off at our necessary destinations. Marriah and Michelle were going to the Teen Center to hang out. I was supposed to meet up with them after the date and tell them how it went. I was getting dropped off at the movies alone. This idea terrified me, but it was too late to back out now. Marriah’s mom was calling us to come downstairs . . . here we go . . .

I sat in the cool theatre, my heart pounding. The place was empty except for me and I was trying to melt into the seat. Cam hadn’t arrived yet and I was starting to wonder if this was some mean joke. Just then he appeared. I felt relieved and nervous all at the same time. He said hi and asked me how I was doing. I managed a small fine and then the lights dimmed. Cam sat down next to me stiffly. I had hoped that he would notice how good I looked, but oh, well. I could tell he felt as awkward as I did. The movie was starting. Another 48 Hours-great. I didn’t care whatsoever about the film but Cam had picked it out so I just feigned interest. The whole experience was just so uncomfortable. I felt tongue-tied and shy. He wasn’t saying anything either. What a disaster! We both just stared straight ahead the entire movie. It seemed endless-in a bad way. Hmph . . . some date. I had gone to so much trouble-for this?! Say something! I just couldn’t do it. I was lost in my low self-esteem. The movie ended and Cam was already standing up before the lights flooded the theater in brightness. He was putting his coat back on. Say something! Anything! I just stood up and headed for the door. What a huge disappointment. Cam said something about his mom picking him up and was gone. Looking back, I was silly to be so nervous. If I had tried to talk to him, things might have worked out better.

The next day I got a message that Cam wanted to break up. I didn’t even know that we were going out! Did one lousy date constitute a relationship? I wasn’t surprised though. Who would want to date a mute?

Funny enough, Cam and I ended up together a few months later. The pressure was off now that some time had gone by. We were friends now. One day Marriah and I, and Cam and his buddy Jerry were all hanging out on the hill in my backyard. We were wrestling and being silly when Cam suddenly pinned me beneath him on the grass. He knocked the breath out of me. It took a minute then I laughed and pushed against him. He had my wrists in his hands. This was the closest we had ever been. I think he sensed this because he told me that he should kiss me while he had me there. I was shocked. Had he really said that? Before I could react, he was up and yanking me to my feet. I was dumbstruck. I had to tell Marriah. She would absolutely freak out! He liked me-all the time I had thought we were just destined to be friends—now this? I was elated. I had never stopped crushing on Cam and now he was beginning to consider me in that way. I couldn’t wait to gush to Marriah. I wondered how things were going to be from now on. Would he ever try to kiss me? Was he just teasing? It hadn’t felt like it. I had actually felt something palpable-like innocent lust. He had wanted to kiss me and I had wanted him to. I didn’t know then, but this was the start of my first affair.

Okay, I was 14 years old. Cam was the same age. It was big and exciting for both of us. Less than a week went by and Cam got the idea of going for a walk. We were in the woods and he was showing me the old bunkers from wars’ past. The one he was showing me right now was very high on a hill and it was windy. The tall grasses up there blew in the strong breezes. It was soft grass. We were all alone. Before I realized it, Cam’s lips were pressed against mine. Oh, my God! There were no words. My teenage heart was about to burst. I closed my eyes and it felt as if time had stopped. Cam gently pushed my shoulders down until I was lying in the soft grass beneath him. Without breaking our kiss he laid his warm body on top of me. The feeling of excitement that coursed through my body had not been felt until then. My female longings had lain dormant inside me and now Cam had brought them to the surface. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I felt his hand in my hair. My first kiss and my first taste of love. I would never forget the feeling. I don’t see much of that sweet, first love feeling any more at 14. Children rush into sex before any real feelings evolve. Even to this day I remember the sweetness of it all. We stayed that way, his gentle weight pressed against me, his lips on mine, for hours. It was blissful.

I had started my first affair. Cam and I went for a walk almost every day for months. We thought we were being sneaky, but everyone in our class at school knew what was going on and they all started going for walks with their significant others. We had started a trend.

At school it was like nothing had changed. No boyfriend/girlfriend behavior to be seen. After school Cam would call me and ask the inevitable question: Do you wanna go for a walk? Of course I always answered yes. Our time apart was spent trying to find new and exciting places to walk.

Summer came and with it, intensity and heat. Our make out sessions started becoming less bundled. Living in Newfoundland warm weather was a rarity, but that summer was unusually warm. Cam and I had always just created our own heat. Now the sun was actually shining and our bulky coats were unnecessary. I remember when Cam first peeled his shirt off and I touched that soft, silky skin. We had been seeing each other for months and as time went on Cam’s need grew more and more apparent. It wasn’t long before he was asking me to pull my shirt up my stomach so our skin could touch. This was a new, wonderful feeling. Such soft warmth. Soon he was taking his shirt off and I was pulling mine up automatically.

It wasn’t long before my stomach wasn’t enough, so I went ahead and pulled my shirt up over my chest, exposing my bra. Cam went one step higher and eased my shirt completely off. Now I was in my bra and he was shirtless. Our arms embraced each other. Being skin to skin felt so amazing. This sated Cam’s desire for a little while. I was just going along with him, completely losing my self in my first love.

Then the day came when my bra came into question. Cam told me that all he wanted was to see my breasts and lay against me completely topless. I was so nervous. He assured me that he wouldn’t tell anyone and that it was him. I could trust him. My heart was pounding but I could feel a part of me that wanted this. I lay there in the leaves and the grass. My fingers lay on the front clasp of my pink, padded bra. It was now or never. I closed my eyes to avoid looking at Cam, who was straddling me, patiently looking down. A simple, quiet click and it was done. I felt the material pulling back away from my breasts and then it was gone. I was completely naked from the waist up. I felt vulnerable and I knew my cheeks were flaming red. Cam didn’t touch me. He just pulled his T-shirt off and laid his bare chest against mine. We were kissing again. It felt so real and sweet. He never once tried to grope me or anything. One time he lightly stroked the skin between my breasts but he never laid a finger on them-just his body. His hands were in my hair, he took my glasses off and placed them safely nearby on the ground, he kissed my neck . . . it was so nice.

This beautiful, innocent teenage affair became tainted by the one thing I hadn’t counted on—hormones. One day, out of the blue, Cam wanted the whole shebang. Sex. He had turned 15 and I guess he just couldn’t handle it anymore. Our sweet affection wasn’t good enough for him now. He stopped calling. School ended and I felt abandoned. My heart was broken. The love affair was over. It had been a sweet six months. I didn’t know how to react. He had never said anything about being my boyfriend so I had to play it cool. I definitely couldn’t show him any sad emotion or feeling. Teenagers can be so silly sometimes.

Mark

The summer of 1989 brought my first job as well as my first heartache. At the base when you turned 14 you were given the chance to apply for summer hire. After you applied, your job was selected randomly. I ended up working at the base gymnasium. My boss, Ken, was a small, wiry, older man who loved his coffee. I liked him. He would talk to me and tell me stories during working hours. I remember sitting in Ken’s modest little office, drinking coffee and listening to him. He was a nice boss.

I will never forget my first day of work. I was told to dress in old clothes and old sneakers that I didn’t mind getting dirty. That was easily done. My wardrobe wasn’t exactly Rodeo Drive. I arrived at the gym a few minutes before eight in the morning. Right on time. I remember sitting in Ken’s office as he explained that his other worker who had been here for a while was going to show me the ropes. His name was Mark and he was from off-base. That meant that he was Canadian. I didn’t know what to expect. I had figured on him being another older man, like the plump, chipper Skinny whom I had just met with Ken when I got the job. He did all the work before Mark was hired on a few months ago.

As it turned out, Mark wasn’t like anyone I had met yet. For starters, he was young and gorgeous! He had a great, tan physique, a handsome face, brown eyes and golden brown hair that fell at his shoulders. He was 18 years old and he drove a black Firebird. To add to this wonderful list of qualities, he was disarmingly sweet, charming and funny. My crush started upon our first meeting. He spoke so kindly to me, and as he showed me what I was going to be doing this summer, he went out of his way to assist me with everything. I was giddy at his presence. No more wondering all the time about Cam and whether or not our time together was over. I loved going to work. Everybody was so nice. Skinny and Mark both showed me how to line the ball fields, clean the dugouts, tend the fitness trails, check gym equipment in and out, and of course, where all my supplies were kept. I had my own shed out near the press box. Mark used to always make sure I never ran out of lime for the lines. He was always one step ahead of me. My job wasn’t hard. It was mostly manual labor. I worked up a sweat and earned my own money doing it. I was proud of myself.

One afternoon as I was finishing up at the ball field Skinny showed up and told me he had to talk to me. I told him I would be right there, and then I placed the bases back where they were supposed to be for tonight’s game. All that was left to do now was to put my little metal box with the wheels on it back in my shed. It was the tool we used to pour out the lime in perfect little lines. Skinny followed me to my supply shed and I put my stuff away until tomorrow. Then I followed him to the refreshment stand. He was taking out all the trash before the evening shift came in. Mark was on the evening shift. I was curious as to what Skinny needed to tell me, but I patiently waited for him to finish his work. It was a chance for me to cool off out of the hot sun’s glare. Then Skinny turned at looked at me and he uttered something that I never expected, "just wanted you to know that Mark has