by Cece Peters
“That’s not how I do it! Check out my form,” I said as I started to mimic the moves of the girls who were actually on the volleyball team. “Ouch!” I stopped as a shooting pain went through my arm, which I grabbed. I leaned back onto my desk, a tear forming in my eye. My arm was frequently achy; the surgeon said it would be months, maybe years, before the discomfort went away. He even told my parents I may need another surgery once I grew up if scar tissue formed. I realized I was going to have to be careful not to aggregate it further. “If this stupid pain keeps up, I might never have to ever take P.E. again. So that’s a plus,” I said, trying to push the pained look off my face.
Matty looked at me sadly. “It’s my fault,” he said. “If we hadn’t gone for that walk, none of this would have happened. It’s because of me that you are in pain. I’m so sorry, Leah.”
“Oh, come on, Matty,” I said, forcing a smile on my face, even though the pain in my arm made me want to cry. “It was an accident. A freak accident, the way we both fell in the directions we did. I am sure we will look back on it someday and have a good laugh. In fact, I’m starting to think it’s funny now!” I let out a loud “ha-ha” to prove my point and to hopefully make Matty feel better.
“Well, I’ll always feel bad about it,” he said, stepping forward and placing his hands on my shoulders. He stood close to me, looking me in the eyes. My heart skipped a beat as I looked back at him; we’d never been this close together before. And then, suddenly, Matty lunged forward and planted a kiss on my lips. I was so caught off guard that I didn’t even reciprocate. But after Matty had stepped back, I was the one to move forward to place my lips on his. We stood there for what seemed like minutes but was only a few seconds, our lips pressed together but not moving. When we separated there was a loud “smack” sound, which made both of us laugh. That was not only our first kiss together, but it was our each of our first kisses with anyone. Matty and I had been each other’s firsts in many ways.
Turning back to the present and the pictures before us, I realized that Matty was staring intently at the photo of us in our casts. I wondered if he remembered the kiss that happened just a couple of months after the picture was taken. Sensing I was looking at him, he lifted his eyes and gave me a wink, and I knew instantly that he had been thinking about the kiss, too. I smiled back at him as I recalled other kisses we shared.
Over the next four years, Matty and I kissed again several times. Of course, there was the kiss in the swimming pool that Krista had witnessed. But before that, we kissed again at a party in seventh grade where we were all playing “Seven Minutes in Heaven.” Not really wanting to play, Matty arranged to draw my name and we proceeded into Jimmy’s parent’s basement laundry room (the only “closet” in the downstairs area of their house), thinking we could just kill time and not have to do anything. We stood quietly inside, but our friends kept yelling through the door saying they would know if we didn’t do anything and that we’d have to pay the price for not following the rules. What that price was, neither of us knew; but we felt we had to kiss or else face the wrath of our friends. We finally both shrugged at each other and giggled a little before deciding to just go for it.
Matty stepped towards me and put both hands on the side of my face, just like the men in the movies did, although he squeezed a little too hard, making my lips form a pucker. He giggled and loosened his grip before leaning forward and giving me a quick peck on the mouth. And then he gave me another kiss, followed by another. I reached out and put my hands on his waist; and we began slowing our kisses down, letting our lips linger longer and longer against each other.
Suddenly there was banging on the laundry room door, which startled both us so much that we ended up smashing into one another’s teeth before separating. We had gotten a bit carried away and gone over our allotted seven minutes. We endured weeks of teasing from our entire grade as word had spread quickly on Monday as to what had happened, especially since both of us had emerged red faced from the laundry room. Matty and I never discussed it and just ignored anyone who brought it up. But I relieved those minutes we had spent kissing countless times in my mind, and I often let my imagination wander and fantasize about doing more than just kissing Matty. Although at that age, I wasn’t sure what doing more actually entailed. I figured it just meant kissing with your mouth open the way actors did in the movies. Or else maybe kissing while laying down.
One Saturday night early on during eighth grade, Matty’s parents were out in the next city over having dinner; afterwards, they were going to see a touring Broadway show. Matty had spent the day at football practice and I wasn’t expecting to even see him. But at around nine that evening, I heard my window slide open and turned from my desk, where I was finishing my homework, to see Matty crawl through.
“You’d make a great burglar, you know?” I whispered as I went over to close the window behind him. He had thankfully showered after practice; I had told him that if he wanted to come over after playing sports that he needed to shower first as he stunk so much that I couldn’t breathe as he was so sweaty and dirty. Matty told me that he and some of the other guy’s had gone to Jimmy’s house for dinner after practice. “Jimmy’s mom doesn’t cook as well as your mom,” he insisted. “Don’t tell Jean that I was cheating on her food!”
We quickly settled into sitting positions in the corner of my room behind my bed so that if my parents or sisters opened my door, they wouldn’t be able to see us. We quickly fell into our usual routine of going over the day’s events. After about an hour, we agreed he had better leave as I knew my folks would be heading upstairs to bed soon; and we didn’t want to get caught.
As usual, I walked Matty over to my window. But on this night, instead of giving me his usual smile and wave before climbing out, Matty leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. While it took me a bit by surprise, it also felt natural. I smiled at him, watching him crawl out and down the trellis before closing the window. I still remember putting my hand to my cheek to touch where his mouth had just been. For some reason, it felt like a more intimate kiss than those we’d shared before on our lips.
After that, every time Matty was leaving my house via the window, he would kiss me on the cheek. Neither of us asked the other how we felt about it; it just seemed as natural as the waves we gave one another when saying goodbye. Soon, a hug started following the kiss on the cheek; and I began kissing his check before we let go of our embrace. This kiss-hug-kiss routine only happened when we were by ourselves; when anyone else was around, we just smiled and said goodbye. I for one felt it was something special, and I wanted to keep it just between us.
Then came our eighth-grade dance, which took place during the Saturday before our last week of school. While a few people in our class attended together as dates, the majority of us came to the dance with our friends. My mom had driven both Krista and me; and Jimmy’s mom drove him and Matty. We had all gotten semi-dressed up with the girls wearing nice, but not formal, dresses; and the boys in new pairs of jeans with button down shirts. My mom had done both my hair and Krista’s; and she even applied a bit of makeup to our faces.
The dance was held in our school’s gymnasium, which had been decorated with balloons and streamers by the parent’s association. We were all jacked up on punch (not spiked, but full of sugar) and cake (again, more sugar). I remember us running through the hallways while the chaperones hollered at us to get back to the dance floor. We were at the point of getting ready to leave childhood behind completely before entering high school; and we relished acting like silly kids one last time.
About half of the boys present were brave enough to ask girls to dance, including Matty. In fact, Matty was asking a lot of girls to dance, just as he did at the Saturday church dances. However, on this night, he didn’t ask me to dance the way he always had before. I was not only angry that he seemed to be ignoring me, but I was really jealous that he was paying so much attention to the other girls. And I even started to be mad that the girls, mo
st of whom were my friends, we going along with it. My fourteen-year-old overactive imagination started feeling like it was some conspiracy to humiliate me.
As he danced with one of our classmates, Trish, he and I locked eyes; and he stared at me the entire time they slow danced. They were dancing close together, his head resting on Trish’s shoulder and her head almost touching his chest. Before the song ended, I turned on my heel and walked out. I felt sad and humiliated and even angry, but I didn’t understand why. Matty had danced with plenty of other girls over the years, and it had never bothered me. But on that night, I felt my first pangs of jealousy at the thought that another girl might take my place in Matty’s life.
I ended up sneaking up to the third floor of our school building via a back staircase that was rarely used. I went into the art room, which had a huge window overlooking the field where the track was. I stood there staring out at the stars, willing myself not to cry. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, which made me jump and yelp.
“Dammit, Matty, you scared the crap of out of me!” I gasped as I clutched my chest and caught my breath. “You need a bell around your neck to warn people you are coming!” I gave him a dirty look and turned back towards the window.
“What’s your problem? Why did you leave the dance, and what are you doing up here?” he asked as he hopped up to sit on the table next to the window so that he could see my side profile. “Are you mad about me dancing with Trish?” he asked pointedly.
“Mad? No! I am not mad! Why on earth would you think that?” I scoffed and rolled my eyes to show just how crazy the question was. “I just needed a minute to myself. Which I was having until you showed up.” I was clearly sulking and was not about to let on that I was jealous.
“Well, now you know how I feel when I see you dancing with my friends,” Matty said in an accusing voice. “You and Jimmy seemed awful cozy together tonight the three times you danced together.”
“Jimmy?” I said with a laugh. “He’s, like, my brother or something. Besides, he’s the only boy here who asked me to dance, if you must know. Was I just supposed to stand by myself in the corner the entire night? At least Jimmy is nice and doesn’t smell like sweat or B.O.”
Matty lifted his arm and took a big whiff. “I don’t smell, do I?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? I haven’t gotten close enough to smell you. Why don’t we go back downstairs and ask Trish what she thinks?” I started to turn around to leave, but Matty put his leg out to block me while hooking his arm around my back to turn me towards him. “What are you do-“ I started to say, but I was stopped from speaking by Matty pulling me in for a kiss.
As he was sitting on the table, I found myself between his legs with our bodies pressed together. At first, I tried pulling away; but within seconds I reversed course and let myself melt into him. We were only fourteen years old, so our kissing techniques were pretty basic, although we were more comfortable now versus the time we’d played Seven Minutes in Heaven. We gave each other small, short kisses and eventually longer ones. Matty even slipped his tongue ever so slightly out to run it across the inside my lower lip, which I wasn’t sure if I liked or not. It seemed a bit gross; I kept my tongue inside of my mouth.
While we kissed, I found myself running my hands up and down his arms. I then reached up and stroked the back of his neck with my fingers. When I touched him there, he groaned ever so slightly. We had never kissed this intently for this long before, and I could feel something I had never felt before stirring inside of me; and as wonderful as it felt, it also scared me.
I finally stepped back, out of breath and not sure what to do. I was afraid what would happen if we kept going. Troy and Pamela, two of our friends, had recently had sex, just to get it over with. Troy brushed it off, but Pamela could not stop talking about it. And it was making some of our other friends wonder about doing it, too. I had been appalled that they had actually done it; we were way too young. All I knew was that I did not want to do it while in middle school. I wanted to wait until I was married or at least an adult.
But did Matty want to? Is this why he came up here to find me? We stared at each other, both still breathing more heavily than normal. Neither of us spoke for what seemed like forever before Matty said, “I think that’s what they call making out.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I couldn’t help but burst out in laughter. I leaned back in and we just hugged one another.
“Leah,” Matty whispered into my ear, our arms still wrapped around each other. “dancing with someone doesn’t mean anything. What we have between us is what really matters. You are my Leah; no other girl could ever take your place.” We separated just far apart enough to look into each other’s eyes, his arms still around my waist and mine around his neck. Matty added, “Although I still don’t like you dancing with other guys.” And with that, he gave me one more kiss and jumped off the table, straightening his shirt while I sorted myself out as we’d both rumpled our clothes a bit during our “make out” session. He then took my hand in his and we walked back down to the gymnasium, where we danced the last three slow songs of the night together.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Matthew and I spent over two hours digging through the contents of my memory box, first sitting cross-legged on the floor before moving everything up to the bed. While we’d been able to sit on the ground for ages as kids, as adults, we both confessed that our legs were cramping up. “We’re getting old, Leah!” Matty joked as we pulled ourselves up and stretched out our legs.
We sat on my bed, spreading out the pictures between us on top of my bedspread. We also opened the yearbooks to our respective grades from each year, and shrieked when we found hidden mementos such as award certificates and movie tickets. While I didn’t collect much as an adult, as a child I had kept every little bit of ephemera I got my hands on. There were buttons from our city’s summer festivals, programs from school plays, and postcards friends had mailed me during their vacations.
I had several copies of most pictures, and Matthew asked if he could have the duplicates. Back when we used flash cameras and film that had to be developed, I had often asked my mom to get double or even triple copies made of photos so that I could share them with friends. So, I had plenty of extras for him to have. My mom had also always ordered additional copies of the photographs from our school dances, so I gave Matty those, too. He ended up with enough pictures to fill a photo album.
“Your senior photos!” Matty said as he pulled the stack of glossy pictures out. As everyone did the summer before twelfth grade, my parents had booked me a session at a local photography studio to have professional senior year photos taken. I’d had four outfit changes and took countless pictures in various poses and with different props, both inside and outside. At school, we then exchanged photos, writing notes to one another on the backs of them.
“Oh boy, those are awful!” I said with embarrassment, looking over at the shots of me with my hair professionally styled, wearing outfits I had only worn for the pictures, and with too much makeup on my face. The last time I had seen the pictures was when I helped my parents move, and even then, I’d just glanced at them as I found them rather ridiculous. I cringed as Matthew flipped through all of the shots.
“You look beautiful in these, Leah,” Matty said sincerely, looking up at me. “You were still a girl when I left, but in these pictures…well, you were definitely a woman by senior year.” He then grinned and said, “Maybe it was for the best I moved away. I don’t know if I’d been able to keep my hands off you if I’d seen you looking like this.”
“Ha-ha!” I said with a laugh, trying not to blush. “None of the other boys had trouble keeping their hands off me. I’m sure you would have been just fine.” Matthew’s kind words had the reverse affect on me, making me feel insecure. I had never been the girl that the boys all chased.
“Well, those boys knew that you were my Leah,” Matty said seriously. “They knew better than to put their hands on you,” he ad
ded, looking me straight in my eyes. “Although, as you remember, in the end, I couldn’t keep my hands off you, either.”
I was speechless, unable to respond to what Matty was saying. I knew that my face was bright red, so he could clearly see the effect his words were having on me. What I wanted to do in that moment was tackle him to the ground and kiss him; but instead I coughed to clear my throat and turned my attention back to the box
Looking back inside to see what items were left, I saw that at the bottom of the box was a shoebox where I had stashed all the notes my friends and I had passed to each other during classes over the years. Matthew grabbed it before I could even touch it. “Oh no you don’t,” I said as I stopped him from opening the box. “That’s one’s off limits. Girls only!”
“Why? What’s in here? Now I have to see it!” he said as I tried wrangling the box away from him. After a few seconds of tug-of-war, I slapped his hands away, grabbing the box with the intent to put it back inside my closet. As I slid off the bed, I temporarily lost my balance, and the notes inside, all folded up in to clever little pockets, spilled all over my bedroom floor.
“Jackpot!” Matty yelled. “I call ‘finders’ keepers’!” We both dropped to the floor and started grabbing at the notes.
“No way,” I yelled back. “Hands off! Those are private property!” We were laughing but inside I was mortified. What was in those notes? I honestly could not remember, but I was sure I had written down plenty of embarrassing information in them so many years ago. I knew I’d saved notes from as far back as the sixth grade. No way was I going to let anyone see them, much less Matty.
“Hey, what’s this?” Matty asked as he picked up a white envelope from amongst the pile of papers. “It has my name on it.”
In that moment, time stopped. I had not seen that envelope in sixteen years. I suddenly remembered that, after once keeping it hidden in a dresser drawer, I had buried it in the bottom of the box containing the notes when I left for college. I had not been able to send it to Matty when I had written it, and I could not dare give it to him now.
