that jealousy, hormones, and typical teenage angst was a perfect cocktail for a lot of regrettable thoughts and actions.
Abby and I had been friends since elementary school, then things got awkward with us in middle school, as boy-girl relationships often do. In high school it seemed all the cool kids were dating, so Abby and I resorted back to our old elementary school days, only we were older and kissing each other more. I remember the emotions I had hijacked nearly every other thought I had. Concentrating on sports was out of the question most of the time because I was in my own world thinking about Abby and the thought of losing her to another guy almost constantly. Despite having a girlfriend, my self-esteem was weak.
Our boyfriend-girlfriend relationship lasted from the first week of junior year in high school until just before the end of the school year. In that time I think we broke up with each other at least a dozen times, mostly for just a day at a time. The drama consumed so much of me that it was routine for a basketball being passed to hit me square in the face or a baseball to land just a few feet away from me in the outfield, landing me seat on the bench next to a very angry coach.
Eventually, and rightfully so, my dear Abby tired of my jealous ways. I can remember being so ridiculous that I would ask to use the bathroom in class so I could walk by her class just to see if I could see her chatting with another guy. Plus, considering she was a cheerleader, and our cheerleading team was co-ed, I had to watch from the court – or more often the bench – as another guy perched her high up into the air, hand on her ass. In my mind, I always saw the guy go from staring at her ass and then at me with a smirk on his face.
After a while, being accused of doing things she wasn’t doing eventually wore her out. I remember her breaking up with me. While I was upset, I figured she would call in a day or two, and we’d be “Mike and Abby” again. School ended. She went on vacation in Minnesota to see her family; she never called. When she got back a few weeks later she dropped off some of the things I had given her for her birthday and holidays – a mix CD, photos, my basketball jersey – and then I knew it was over. What was torture is that she lived right on the main road – the main road that was impossible to bypass if you wanted to go anywhere, meaning I passed her house almost every day. I still have vivid memories of me staring out the window at her house as we drove by in the family car. It’s usually raining during these remembrances.
When school started back up I was shocked and hurt by how, in Abby’s eyes, it looked like I never existed in her world, that’s if she even looked me in the eyes. Walking by each other in halls, she ignored me completely. It was a small school, so this happened often. I wrote letters, professing my love for her, telling her I miss our friendship, and how sorry I was for being so jealous. All of them went unreturned, and I’m guessing unopened. Even her friends, who used to be my friends, gave me glares. Much of senior year was a miserable blur.
I remember focusing on a very scary thought to me, both then and now. I had wondered if the situation would have been better if she were dead. It was the first time I had ever remotely thought about someone dying. I reasoned that if she was just gone I wouldn’t have to put up with the ignoring from her, and I felt that the pain would be a different one. As it was, she was there, but out of my reach. If she was dead I would have known better than to think I could ever be with her again. I realized that this was the most selfish act I could ever think of, and was a result of how hurt I was. I never
Daniela Fischerova, Neil Bermel