“Psst Wendy... Wendy!”
I snarled at my binder and whipped my head around.
“What!”
Jon grinned.
“I LOVE it when you’re mad,” he whispered, handing me a folded piece of notebook paper.
I rolled my eyes, snatched the note, and turned around just in time for Professor Donovan to mumble,
“Wendy, if you would kindly pay attention and not flirt with boys, I would appreciate it.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as the heads in the lecture hall turned to check out this “Wendy” they’d probably never noticed in their lives. I heard some snickers and my stomach flipped over as I endured embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, Professor.”
I silently flipped Jon the bird behind my back.
He snorted obnoxiously and Donovan continued defining macromolecules and hydrolysis, oblivious to Jon’s entertainment.
I opened the note in my lap, angry at myself and Jon.
WENDY.
I think I love her. And I’m going to tell her. Today.
Sincerely,
Jon
P.S. Smoothies after Bio?
I rolled my eyes.
Jon and I had been best friends since fourth grade. We’re second-semester freshmen in college now. Back then he was a frizzy blonde haired kid who still wore light up sketchers and had a gap between his front teeth. I had been sitting on the swing set during recess, and the kid had come up to me giving me a really wide smile.
“Wanna kiss?”
My 9-year-old self was disgusted. I made a sound equivalent to throwing up.
“Yuck! What!”
Jon cracked up, throwing his head back and cackling.
“Nooooo silly! A chocolate kiss!”
He pulled the soft little Hershey pyramid out of his pocket. I was skeptical.
“Well, alright,” I had said.
My acceptance of the offering had made little fourth-grade Jon grin even more. He sat down on the swing next to me and for the next fifteen minutes of recess that day, we talked about how “Hey Arnold!” was our favorite show and how he had no idea how to do the book report on Because of Winn-Dixie and I’d already finished it. For the rest of fourth grade, we retreated to those swings to talk and laugh, and throughout the rest of grade school.
But in the past eight years that I’d known him, I’d never known him to actually be in love.
His frizzy blonde hair is cut and styled now, but his eyes are electric behind his thick rectangle glasses. And his teeth are square and straight now, no gaps, but he still throws his head back and gives a good laugh. And here in college, I have been formally introduced to the term “Anything can happen”.
However.
The term “in love” is not in my vocabulary. But I’ve had to mentally define it for myself in order to tolerate Jon in his fantasizing, love sick parade of being.
All I knew was that her name was Elaine. And on Tuesdays I would get weekly updates on his feelings for her. Usually in the form of disrupting note-passing in Biology 30218.
All our other conversations revolved around assignments and his humor versus my sensibility. “Love” made it’s first appearance this year.
“And that wraps up today, remember to put the lab sheets on the left table’s bin. See you all next Tuesday,” Professor Donovan concluded.
I snapped back to reality and groaned to myself, stuffing the note in my pocket.
Scholarship money and hard work for a class I didn’t pay attention in. All due to my very best annoying friend in the universe of macromolecules and hydrolysis. My GPA is riding on my level of patience and ability to focus.
“C’mon Wendy!” Jon called at the door of the classroom as everyone bustled about gathering their laptops and backpacks.
“I have Chem in ten minutes, Jon, remember?” I kept my voice monotone.
He smacked his forehead with his fist.
“Oh yeah, crap,” he said, “I’ll call you tonight with the details!”
He grinned at me and I sarcastically smiled back.
“Great!” I said and then groaned, “Uggggh, Jon, you can’t call me tonight, I have that paper to write!”
“Paper? What? Who cares?” He winked at me, laughing and heading out the door with the rest of everyone.
This is what I put up with.
Professor Donovan left, and I carefully organized my notebooks in the empty lecture hall, making sure that each handout was filed away before zipping up my backpack and heading out. Time and efficiency. Time and efficiency. Something Jon would never understand.
But he accepts me for it anyway. And I accept him. Through the silliness and everything else.
* * * * *
“So how’d you do it?” I’d asked, shrugging my shoulder up to my ear so I could manage to speak into the phone without losing place in my paper.
He sighed. You’d think he’d taken ecstasy or something. In a lot of ways he had.
“I just said it. And she looked at me and smiled...” He trailed off, another sigh.
It was incomprehensible, how someone could sail off with a feeling, without any other care in the world.
“Come on!” he shrieked suddenly, catching me off guard so that I smacked the keyboard.
“Let’s go run around the park! The moon’s lighting up the night, look at it! Right now!”
I glanced at the blinded window. The moonlight seeped in a little. I hadn’t realized how late it was. My paper stared at me, bored, and suggested I get some night air in my system before the long night ahead.
“Jon, c’mon. I have to finish this,” I said.
“No you don’t, you’re no fun. Get out of that prison cell dorm room and meet me by the lamp post. NOW!”
It was comical and we both knew it. He was laughing in spite of himself.
“Fine.”
I hung up the phone and stretched. Why be angry or frustrated. Why bother. This could be interesting.
So that’s how I got to be standing here at the base of the park hill, watching Jon dance and spin and sing to the night. He was like a fawn, one of those half human half goat deals from fairy tales or something. If he had a lyre and hairy hoofs for legs, well, he’d be just like the one from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. That character’s name started with a P... I couldn’t place the name.
“I’m singing in the rain...” Jon sang as he ran furiously, arms outstretched like the wings of an eagle.
I almost smiled, arms still folded. Oh! The fawn. His name was Puck.
Weird name. Like a hockey puck or something.
I was bored with my own recollection.
“Can we go now?” I called, “It’s late!”
“Never!” he said, “Never Wendy! Never never, neverland never!”
This time I laughed.
“My name does NOT make you Peter Pan, Jon,” I said, trying to swallow my chuckles.
“Oh yes it does!” he said, mounting the top of a jungle gym, “Think of the happiest thoughts! Dream the most beautiful dreams!”
He leapt and landed on his feet, running toward me.
I raised my eyebrows, and laughed.
He ran up close. He was an inch away from my face.
I could count the stubble hairs on his chin. His body heat from running around like a maniac was penetrating my face. And the magic in his eyes almost met mine.
“Come on Wendy. You need energy. And light.”
I looked away, down at my feet.
“Find it,” He whispered, “And... FREE IT!”
He yelled and I shot up a foot in the air.
“AHH!” I screamed, “YOU SCARED ME!”
He cackled and laughed and howled with delight.
“YES!” he said, “A reaction!”
I rolled my eyes, laughing and shaking from fright.
“So why didn’t you just bring little Elaine out here to witness your joy, huh?”
That stopped him.
He turned to me and raised an eyebrow, a smile flickering on his chiseled face. His wild hair.
“You caught on,” he said slyly.
I snorted.
“Caught on to what, pray tell.”
“You wanna know why?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, impatient, “Cause I need to get back soon.”
He walked over to me, slowly, devilishly.
“Cause I said that I said the L-word, right?”
Confusion.
“Right,” I said, “To Elaine.”
“Half correct,” he said.
What?
“Huh?”
“Yes, I said the L-word. Yes I said it to Elaine,” he said.
“O.K...” I said. Something crept in my stomach. Like a caterpillar wriggling in it’s cocoon.
“But...” he said, dragging it out, “It wasn’t FOR Elaine.”
My jaw hung, parted.
“What?”
Jon was an inch away again.
“Well babe. I told her I loved you.”
Silence.
“Now will you forget about your paper and run with me?”
