And I Think It's Going to Rain Today

Sean was in dress whites the first time I saw him. Dress whites and a sailors cap, lined up with the varsity choir outside of the high school auditorium. He was laughing and cutting up with his friend Sherri. When he saw me watching him, he was embarrassed. He smiled at me with a beautiful sparkle in his eyes.

I had just come off stage, wearing my green concert choir tuxedo jacket, black pants and tie, and relieved that we got that part of the show under our belt, but rushing to get into my next costume. Sean's group, all bursting with excitement, was waiting to peform their medley from South Pacific.

It was the May Fiesta of 1978.

_________

I remember our first date. Can you call it a date when there's a third wheel. Her name was Sherri Hamrick, or something.

They both lived on Fireside Court; I didn't know that when we got in his dad's truck. Sean and I drove over to pick Sherri up. . . seven houses away. Next, I remember that we were getting into the truck again, this time with Sherri.

She starts to get into the middle of the seat . . . Sean and I pause.

She looks at Sean through the open driver's door, whips back to look at me behind her and she says. . .

"Oh! Are you guys together?"

AND WE WERE! We were so happy to say we were together. All smiles, laughter, unabashed foolish joy.

High school was no longer hell. I had a boyfriend! He was muscular, elegant, beautiful. A dancer, who drove a big truck. He had a MG Midget convertible too.

Like raindrops slapping on rocks; memories of joys, the touch of his skin, my reflection in his eyes, and his smile, dance on my mind. How I wish I could remember completely the seasons we shared; each good, each different. Flirtatious joy of spring, steamy heat of summer, disruption of fall, rejection of winter. All natural, as leaves fall and drift away on a stream.

He left school half-way through the 11th grade, and became the boyfriend of woman who had been my friend. Deanna was a dance teacher and choreographer. She and I even operated a daycare together one summer. I wouldn't sleep with her, but she was fun. And she bought me stuff.

Sean moved in with her, about a year after we met. He got better stuff than I did, but then again, he put out, I didn't. She supported him while he got his G.E.D. We were still friends. . only now he was part of a group. Deanna and Sean, Helen, Trevor, me. . . peripherally there was Russ. There was a pool in the summer, a place to crash in the school year. I had a key, so I'd just let myself in on the way to school. . and go back to bed. Well, on the mornings I didn't go sleep with Peter or David.

They were my next boyfriend. Two of them. Twenty-something year old expatriates from London. . Or they were first. . . I think they were first, during, and after. I didn't even have a driver's license the first time I slept with them. Russ gave me their number at school and said I would like to meet them. He lied, saying they were friends of his. They weren't. He had flirted with them at McDonald's, and gotten their number. Then he got me to call them. Well, his loss. Since they weren't murderous pederasts, that is. At least, not muderous, because the sex was great.

But that's another part of the story.

Except, one time, David and I were laying naked, cuddling in their bed. . and I answered a forgotten question quoting Barbara Mandrell, I said

“‘Sleeping Single in a Double Bed' sucks."

David hadn't heard that song, and the turn of phrase sent him into such hysterical giggles, that Sean and Peter came in from the guest bedroom, to see what the commotion was. And we all piled in the bed, laughing, smiling, touching . . .

Of course that could have been Towmy. . Anyway, the stories all interconnect.

__________

I hadn't seen Sean in a long long time. I am still shocked at the memory of walking into The Rogue, a long lost drag bar, and seeing him sitting alone at a table, smoking a long filtered cigarette, wearing a purple pill box hat with a veil. He was beautiful. He had made his outfit; I guess it was just for fun. It really doesn't make sense that he was in light drag. I couldn't make sense of it. He shrugged it off.

He was shaking as he smoked. His hands shook. He said he had been sick; he was just getting over hepatitis. It was 1983.

I didn't ever see him again. I've entered his name in internet search engines for the last 15 years, his brother's name too. But there never was anything. I talked to his friend Sherri some 10 years ago, through a fluke of connections, but she had lost track of him. I did not ask Deanna though. I figured she'd won my boyfriend, I guess. I never would ask her. I never did ask her.

Even when I sent her a note on Monday:

Hi Deanna -

I'm supposed to be working. . . but I'm too distracted by warm fuzzies. (Didn't you used to talk like that?)

I went to my 25th high school reunion this weekend. It was great fun. I can't say that anyone you might have been interested in was there, really. It was a smallish group. But all in all, it was very good.

Can I buy you a drink some day? I'd just like to say "hi" and reminisce for a moment or two. What do you say? Maybe some day we can get our paths to cross for old times sake?

All the best,
Vig

She said she didn't remember who I was.

After writing that my name used to be Vig Shitzpeas, she said:

HI Vig,

Of course I remember you. You went to school with Russ and David and Sean at Woodbridge High School didn't you?How are you? I guess you heard that Russ and Sean passed away a long time ago. Sad to loose such talented singers and dancers.

_________

I didn't know, and I always knew. I hoped he'd made it. I hoped he survived the crisis. I had hoped I'd see my friend.

_________

Broken windows and empty hallways,
a pale dead moon in a sky streaked with grey.
Human kindness is overflowing,
and I think it's gonna rain today.

Bette Midler sang

as I cried.

Picking up the remote, I said:

"I've had enough of this shit."

And I went to bed.

It was not the night to be watching Beaches.