On a tour of one-night stands, my suitcase and guitar in hand...
Ah, homeward bound!
Home was full of the typical diversions: trips to Perkins (the pre-pubescent night manager that my mother wants to set me up with has been recently replaced by a more age-appropriate night manager...that my mother suggested I go out with), bad movies at insanely low ticket prices (Princess Diaries 2, $4), mosquito bites and the State Fair. One new development in trips home is the ever surprising get togethers with my best friend Jessica. She inevitably is doing something interesting that she invites me to. This time it was a pig roast at her brother's new farmhouse. Pig roast?! What's not to love about THAT?!
There was actually a whole pig, with a spit up its ass, roasting when we pulled up to the farm in Jessica's obscenely large Lincoln. She's a bohemian, free-thinking, head-on-her-shoulders young woman with a Mary Kay lady's car... But I digress... The farmhouse is being gutted and renovated by Andrew, Jessica's brother, and a host of friends and family. Jenny, his wife, is heavily pregnant and a masterful delegator, apparently, as she pointed out all of the renovations in the house that she told people to do for her. I love her to bits. I also loved the fact that she kept talking about the house being ready "For when the baby moves in," as if it were just waiting out its lease in some studio apartment in the city and not trapped in her tummy. Jenny had no sooner sat me down at the table to look at innumerable pictures (only Jenny could keep me interested through 25 rolls of wedding photos) when I caught sight of the man who had been working on the wiring in what will eventually be the office.
"Amy!" he said, smiling an impossibly large smile, then trying to hide it as quickly as it came, "Wow, you look different!"
This tall, shaggy-haired, slightly skinny and handsome guy was the little brother of a set of twins I had dated in high school. The brief story on the set of twins was that I was kind of sort of seeing one and made out with the other in the back of someone's station wagon. It was no mix-up...it was on purpose. The hell of it is that I don't remember which one I dated and which one I made out with. One of them was at the pig roast and was friendly to me, despite our history. So, Little Brother turned out pretty hot, if I can judge by how he looked in cargo shorts and his electrician belt...
I met this kid first when he was in the 4th grade and I was in the 9th grade. Students under grade 10 were barred from doing plays unless the script called for a kid, at which point we pillaged the elementary school for the cutest and hammiest kid available. That was how Little Brother came to be cast in our school's production of "Our Town" and I became the makeup girl. During the entire run of the show, I was in near-constant tears because I was so moved by the play itself and because I had a crush on nearly every single senior boy in the play. I had major crushes on several of the members of the Class of 1988 and this was the last hurrah for those members who were theatrically inclined. So, I wept and Little Brother made fun of me. I would do his makeup every night and about five minutes after I was done, the little shit would tug on my sleeve as I made eyes at Matt Nelson and say "I need more makeup!" I would inevitably shoo him away so I could moon around Matt a little bit before he was due onstage, but Little Brother kept coming back. Like a gnat, that boy.
I saw Little Brother infrequently through the years, but I always heard about him. Sometimes, my mom would tell me that she had run into Little Brother in the town's only coffee shop, which is conveniently located in the building his father owns. Anyhow, I thought of him. Occasionally fondly.
When Little Brother turned up at the pig roast (I'm going to keep saying that, because "pig roast" is so much more evocative than "party"), I'd like to say it was a total surprise, but it wasn't. I had been thinking about him, occasionally fondly, for the past week. There had been an ad for a play that he directed in the copy of the hometown newspaper that my mom sent me, which made me think about him. It made me wonder how someone who is artistically gifted could live in such a small town. Then, I found myself wondering if he was hot. Then, I wondered what was wrong with me that I was thinking of this kid like I was preparing to complete the trifecta of dating by trying to make out with each of the siblings. Jesus, Amy, you don't WIN if you date a whole family... At any rate, I had casually inquired as to who would be at the pig roast, and had been told that Little Brother may, in fact, be in attendance. What WAS a surprise to me, though, was the stupid little leap in my stomach when he walked out of the office. My stomach! My crusty, cynical stomach got all kinds of seventh grade on me.
After the looking at the thirteenth roll of pictures, during which Little Brother insisted upon checking the wiring of a light socket immediately above the table we were all sitting around, I went outside to clear my head. Little Brother followed. I sat down. So did Little Brother. A few moments passed when he blurted (yes, blurted, like the words had been stuck behind a levee that finally cracked under the pressure of their need to escape and then they all came splatting out...jumbled and wet) "Hey, Amy, did you know that I directed a play!" I told him that I had heard something along those lines. He then said "And the next play they're doing is 'Steel Magnolias' and you did that when you were a senior over at the Barn Theater." I couldn't help but stare at him for a few silent, awkward moments. It appeared to me that Little Brother had a crush on me...a crush that lasted since the fourth grade! Damn. It would be creepy if he wasn't so fucking hot now.
When he left, I gave him my email address. When I got home that night, though, I wrote him a letter. A long letter. I was very platonic and nice in the letter, but I did say what I had been feeling about him on a subliminal level for a few years: "You make me happy when I see you." In the letter I said that was the nicest compliment I had ever recieved, and I felt that he was a person that was worthy of that kind of compliment, not me. There is something about him that is endearing. Something about the way he talks about his life that is full of grace. Even though he's grown from a doofy fourth grader into a socially awkward, hot, 26 year old, there is something so deeply moving about him that I was stunned into silence at times. It takes a lot to make me shut up, let me tell you.
I don't know when I'll be headed home again. I have trips to Las Vegas and Delaware and Philadelphia lined up, one after the other, so that any time I'm not on a plane, I'll be longing for my tiny (terribly cute!) apartment so much I won't be able to fathom a trip back to my home town. So that means, I don't know when I'll see Little Brother again, unless he comes to me. Which...would...be...
Interesting?
Home was full of the typical diversions: trips to Perkins (the pre-pubescent night manager that my mother wants to set me up with has been recently replaced by a more age-appropriate night manager...that my mother suggested I go out with), bad movies at insanely low ticket prices (Princess Diaries 2, $4), mosquito bites and the State Fair. One new development in trips home is the ever surprising get togethers with my best friend Jessica. She inevitably is doing something interesting that she invites me to. This time it was a pig roast at her brother's new farmhouse. Pig roast?! What's not to love about THAT?!
There was actually a whole pig, with a spit up its ass, roasting when we pulled up to the farm in Jessica's obscenely large Lincoln. She's a bohemian, free-thinking, head-on-her-shoulders young woman with a Mary Kay lady's car... But I digress... The farmhouse is being gutted and renovated by Andrew, Jessica's brother, and a host of friends and family. Jenny, his wife, is heavily pregnant and a masterful delegator, apparently, as she pointed out all of the renovations in the house that she told people to do for her. I love her to bits. I also loved the fact that she kept talking about the house being ready "For when the baby moves in," as if it were just waiting out its lease in some studio apartment in the city and not trapped in her tummy. Jenny had no sooner sat me down at the table to look at innumerable pictures (only Jenny could keep me interested through 25 rolls of wedding photos) when I caught sight of the man who had been working on the wiring in what will eventually be the office.
"Amy!" he said, smiling an impossibly large smile, then trying to hide it as quickly as it came, "Wow, you look different!"
This tall, shaggy-haired, slightly skinny and handsome guy was the little brother of a set of twins I had dated in high school. The brief story on the set of twins was that I was kind of sort of seeing one and made out with the other in the back of someone's station wagon. It was no mix-up...it was on purpose. The hell of it is that I don't remember which one I dated and which one I made out with. One of them was at the pig roast and was friendly to me, despite our history. So, Little Brother turned out pretty hot, if I can judge by how he looked in cargo shorts and his electrician belt...
I met this kid first when he was in the 4th grade and I was in the 9th grade. Students under grade 10 were barred from doing plays unless the script called for a kid, at which point we pillaged the elementary school for the cutest and hammiest kid available. That was how Little Brother came to be cast in our school's production of "Our Town" and I became the makeup girl. During the entire run of the show, I was in near-constant tears because I was so moved by the play itself and because I had a crush on nearly every single senior boy in the play. I had major crushes on several of the members of the Class of 1988 and this was the last hurrah for those members who were theatrically inclined. So, I wept and Little Brother made fun of me. I would do his makeup every night and about five minutes after I was done, the little shit would tug on my sleeve as I made eyes at Matt Nelson and say "I need more makeup!" I would inevitably shoo him away so I could moon around Matt a little bit before he was due onstage, but Little Brother kept coming back. Like a gnat, that boy.
I saw Little Brother infrequently through the years, but I always heard about him. Sometimes, my mom would tell me that she had run into Little Brother in the town's only coffee shop, which is conveniently located in the building his father owns. Anyhow, I thought of him. Occasionally fondly.
When Little Brother turned up at the pig roast (I'm going to keep saying that, because "pig roast" is so much more evocative than "party"), I'd like to say it was a total surprise, but it wasn't. I had been thinking about him, occasionally fondly, for the past week. There had been an ad for a play that he directed in the copy of the hometown newspaper that my mom sent me, which made me think about him. It made me wonder how someone who is artistically gifted could live in such a small town. Then, I found myself wondering if he was hot. Then, I wondered what was wrong with me that I was thinking of this kid like I was preparing to complete the trifecta of dating by trying to make out with each of the siblings. Jesus, Amy, you don't WIN if you date a whole family... At any rate, I had casually inquired as to who would be at the pig roast, and had been told that Little Brother may, in fact, be in attendance. What WAS a surprise to me, though, was the stupid little leap in my stomach when he walked out of the office. My stomach! My crusty, cynical stomach got all kinds of seventh grade on me.
After the looking at the thirteenth roll of pictures, during which Little Brother insisted upon checking the wiring of a light socket immediately above the table we were all sitting around, I went outside to clear my head. Little Brother followed. I sat down. So did Little Brother. A few moments passed when he blurted (yes, blurted, like the words had been stuck behind a levee that finally cracked under the pressure of their need to escape and then they all came splatting out...jumbled and wet) "Hey, Amy, did you know that I directed a play!" I told him that I had heard something along those lines. He then said "And the next play they're doing is 'Steel Magnolias' and you did that when you were a senior over at the Barn Theater." I couldn't help but stare at him for a few silent, awkward moments. It appeared to me that Little Brother had a crush on me...a crush that lasted since the fourth grade! Damn. It would be creepy if he wasn't so fucking hot now.
When he left, I gave him my email address. When I got home that night, though, I wrote him a letter. A long letter. I was very platonic and nice in the letter, but I did say what I had been feeling about him on a subliminal level for a few years: "You make me happy when I see you." In the letter I said that was the nicest compliment I had ever recieved, and I felt that he was a person that was worthy of that kind of compliment, not me. There is something about him that is endearing. Something about the way he talks about his life that is full of grace. Even though he's grown from a doofy fourth grader into a socially awkward, hot, 26 year old, there is something so deeply moving about him that I was stunned into silence at times. It takes a lot to make me shut up, let me tell you.
I don't know when I'll be headed home again. I have trips to Las Vegas and Delaware and Philadelphia lined up, one after the other, so that any time I'm not on a plane, I'll be longing for my tiny (terribly cute!) apartment so much I won't be able to fathom a trip back to my home town. So that means, I don't know when I'll see Little Brother again, unless he comes to me. Which...would...be...
Interesting?
posted by Unknown at 1:30 PM
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