the thing about trying to kill your heart....

Yea, yea ,yea. I know what you want. I know who you are, and i know what you want. And you know who you are, too. Don't even play with me, son.

But you will not get it. Not tonight. Perhaps not any time soon.

I'll tell you why. Because it hurts too much to go there.
I can't do it right now. I have an eye infection - and that hurts - and my ego is fragile and confused enough as it is. I feel like a MAN.
You see, I went to the doctor's for the eye infection, and for the not sleeping.So, on the one hand - I had to step on a scale - which is just like jumping into boiling oil, lately - and on the other hand - I went to the doctor's for the eye infection and the not sleeping.

I shall attempt to explain.Going to the doc's and having to face the reality of that scale is pretty horrible right now - let alone the REASON that the scale is so wonky...
Then, I have to TELL a med student that I've never met ....well, basically EVERYTHING! WHY I'm there - he looks at (yes, of course it's a cute, young guy - who's down at USC where the brother and mother of the guy I was just writing about are!)...and - ok - more truth here - I'm also going in for birth control pills.
Anyway, he looks at my swollen eye - I am wearing no makeup - and asks me about the eye, my sleep (or lack of), my sexual history, WHY am I not sleeping....all that stuff....seems to repeat my age like a hundred times, and I'm sitting on the edge of the thing thinking "this must be weird for such a young guy to ask a woman his mother's age about her sexual health and activity and all that stuff"...then he asks me about drugs.
"Do you drink? And if so, how often, how many?"
"Yes. I drink. A bit too much this last month. Maybe 3 or 4 times a week - 3or 4 cocktails or glasses of wine in an evening...I know. It's very bad.I think it will help me sleep, but it doesn't."
"And drugs...cocaine.." (what do I LOOK like??)
"No, no,no..nothing like that."
"What about marijuana?"
I must have looked a little guilty as I said "No. Nope.", because he looked at me the way a parent looks at a kid who is lying and they are bound to get the truth out of them.
I wasn't about to tell that cute 24 yr old that this woman his mother's age was having sex AND smoking the MJ......anyway - I haven't been doing that - hardly at all. It's just been making me think too much - and THAT is exactly what I'm trying to get away from!
Ahhh....the old days of mellow pot, that just made you hungry and horny and then put you to sleep! This new Cali shit is (MEDICAL, BTW) ..is just WAY too strong@!!!
I feel like one of 'The Doors' on this crazy shit. I was at the Doc's to get my hands on some xanax, for crying out loud! My modus has been to shut the old brain and heart down. Down and OUT. Frying pan right on the noggin. That's what i figure i need. LESS thinking, LESS feeling.

And the MJ just does the opposite.So....xanax for me.

This kid was pretty confusing, though. I could swear he was sort of flirting with me. But that was and is so unbelievable - I wrote it off as discomfort.
My doc, however - I always feel like he's flirting. WHY???? They don't get tips, or anything!!!??

My doc is this beautiful Indian man - who is married - I know because he wears a ring - who is probably a Saint. He always looks into my eyes, finds reasons to hold my hand or touch me, even if the visit doesn't require it...and he always asks me about my life when there is a waiting room full of people (which is always), and patiently listens to me blather on...

I don't know....maybe I'm imagining things - but he seems very warm and flirtatious. And this is SO flattering when you go in with a bunk eye and always looking your worst - and of course realizing that this guy sees EVERYTHING!

Why am I even writing about this?? Because I am trying to kill my heart. Not all of it. Just the part that gets suckered into buying men cars or taking them to France or believing they will leave their wife, or trusting that they will get off drugs or whatever. You know. That part.Miles and YEARS and miles away from Jeff in Malibu.

So. I went to get some xanax. Mission accomplished. I know exactly what to say. I learned it from my father. He has real panic attacks. Just specifically about bridges. He takes xanax about 30 minutes before he has to drive over a bridge - otherwise he has to stop, pull over and freak out for a while.

The thing about trying to kill your heart, is that just when you least suspect it, it will rise up, do it's job and fall for some sweet musician.

Gosh, I can't even tell you how hard I've been trying to kill this piece of my heart. I've been drinking, and following my sister's advice - which is basically - get super chunky and then men won't be interested and visa versa...
and it seemed to work for a while....

Then I went to Europe.

losing the guy i lost it to

After Jeff and I lay in his bed for a while, listening to Steve play the guitar - and me feeling spacey, euphoric and thinking I felt grown up all at the same time - we got dressed and snuck his sheets into the laundry downstairs.
Then Jeff had to go to his weekly karate class - or it may have been some other form of martial arts - but, we'll say karate for now.
His step-father drove, and of course i wanted to go with. At that moment i would have been happy to be super-glued to Jeff forever.

As we drove down the Pacific Coast highway (the famous #1), my body seemed to be be melting into the warm back seat of the car. The Ocean was sparkling like diamonds. The sea air smelled a little like Jeff's skin had - salty. Just a little bit. I leaned my head back and let my eyes close.
Then I couldn't help thinking about the week before - on that same drive.

The previous week, Jeff had found some other ride down to Santa Monica for his class, and I popped into the car with his step father to come pick him up.We were having a lovely conversation in the car, chit chatting about whatever it was, when, out of the blue - we were suddenly slowed to a stop by the traffic. A full stop.
"Bloody hell...what in the world?" Jeff's father remarked as we noticed people getting out of their vehicles and walking south on the narrow freeway. "Let me see what's going on", he said. "you stay in the car. I'll leave the keys just in case." and with that, he walked off in the same direction.
He returned shortly, shaking his head and laughing in disbelief. "You will never believe it.", he said. "It's the damndest thing!"
He got back into the car.."Look, if we don't start moving in less than 5 minutes or so - I'll send you up to have a look for yourself..."
And then, no sooner than he finished saying that than we saw people rushing back to their parked cars and getting in them.

The traffic started to move forward VERY slowly. Soon enough, I was able to see for myself what the trouble was. A HOUSE had slid down the hill from the Pacific Palisades and landed right on the south bound lane of the PCH.
I watched in awe and disbelief as we were directed passed the house in the one lane that had been cleared. There were firetrucks, flares, cones, bulldozers and loads of people at the scene - and the house was mostly in tact! It was AMAZING. Once again - I was NOT in Kansas any more!

Well, that had been the week before. The week that I was still a virgin. This week was amazing in a different way.

I waited in the little park outside the karate place for Jeff. It was just a little green square on a hill. I lay down on the grass, ignoring the crazy homeless man that moved to a spot a few feet away from me.I took inventory of how i felt. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I was stupid with happiness.

When Jeff got out off class, I was just waking up from a little doze. I blinked my eyes until he was in focus in his white uniform at the bottom of the hill. He was so cute.
I ran down the hill and threw my arms around his neck, and started kissing him all over. I kissed his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, his neck - I wanted to kiss every freckle on his whole body. I kissed his lips and his forehead.My heart was screaming "Thank you!" ...Thank you, thank you. thank you!

He had given me so much. He, and his family. This beautiful time. This amazing trip. This story that I would never lose. And I had nothing to give him back. Nothing. Nothing except kisses.

I looked right into his pretty eyes - that were so often turned away - and said it to him. "Thank you."
He ran his long hand over my hair. He looked at me with eyes that held a whole forest.He looked over my whole face - as if to remember it - then he kissed me,and held me close.

We made love a few more times over the next couple of days.Each time it hurt less. But we didn't have much time.

Jeff was getting on a plane for India. He was going to become a monk. Yep. That's right. About 3 days after I lost my virginity, my boyfriend had to go to India to become a celibate monk.

Jeff and his mother drove me to the Greyhound station the night before he had to leave.Packed me back off to Texas.

I felt like an emotional dam. I was trying so hard to be brave, but I am sure that all kinds of hurt was showing on my face - because I saw it reflected back at me in Jeff's mother's face. She looked so...empathetic, concerned - maybe just out right sorry for me.
It was horrible to look at her. To say goodbye. She was so pretty, and amazing. I was sure I would never meet anyone like her again.

Jeff's face, on the other hand, was stoic. His face read like - it was the end of a chapter. He was zenning out on me. He was already half way to India, I think.

I got on the bus without the floodgates bursting. It was not a goodbye without tears, but the hard knot in my throat that was getting harder by the second, seemed to be holding things back for the most part as I climbed into my seat and waved goodbye to them both out the window. I tried SO hard to hold it in until they couldn't see me.
The moment I thought they couldn't - the dam just broke. I sobbed my heart out.I cried so hard I probably looked like i was convulsing. I had no awareness of anyone around me for many, many miles. I couldn't stop crying. My throat wouldn't stop hurting.

Finally, when my violent sobs ebbed, I leaned my face against the cold glass of the bus window. Tears still streaming down from my swollen eyes as I plummeted into the blackness.

I wanted to stay in OZ. I never missed the gray, hot world I had come from. I didn't have an Auntie Em to worry about or be worried about me.

I didn't know then just how bad things would get that summer - or how crazy. But I did know enough to realize that I hadn't just lost my virginity.When I got on the bus to leave - I lost a way of being and feeling happy that I would never, ever be able to regain. Not completely. Because I was so innocent. Because I had never been hurt by a man yet.Because my trusting this family that I didn't know at all was so richly rewarded. Because these beautiful people, in this beautiful place took me into their world with no weirdness, no strings attached, no - well - with nothing but love and warmth and trust and humor.

I saw what things COULD be like. I lived it. And with Jeff.

There would never be another first time. Another Jeff. And it felt like I would never see any of them again.

lost.

There was another component to my visit with Jeff.
There was his father's house.
I don't know exactly when we went over there, but it must have been at least a few days in. After I had become relaxed and comfy at his mom's.
I knew before we even got there - from Jeff's demeanor - that his father's house would be very different. And it was.

Not far away, but a whole world away in some respects. Where his mother's house was sunny, his father's was shady and dark.Where his mother's house smelled like flowers, and herbs and the sea, his fathers house smelled like Pinesol and moth balls.Where dinner at his mother's house was friendly and relaxed, full of laughter from the very start, his father's dinner table was stiff.
Not unkind, mind you. I found myself at a formal feeling dinner with Jeff, his Father, his father's wife, and their 6 or 7 yr old little boy. On a Tuesday. In the summer. I remember Jeff's father clearing his throat quite a bit, a lot of akward silences, and both parents looking at me like they had NO idea what to say to me or what to make of me.
I found myself looking my own outfit over to see if I had inadvertently worn some 'Madonna'- esque piece that would offend these upright Brain surgeons...Nope. Not even one of my signature cut- to- shreds tee shirts. I probably wasn't wearing a bra. I never did. But I'm only realizing that that might have ruffled them now, while writing this.
I thought it was certainly all about me - this discomfort and ...I didn't even know what....and THEN...something revealed itself.
I started to observe as dinner went on, that these grown ups were even more akward with their own sons. The 6 year old in particular.
His name was Justin. And he was so cute. But, as any normal 6 year old boy would do - he was squirming in his seat, trying to make jokes, and - you know - just bored with having to sit quietly at the dinner table and eat his vegetables.
I realized that his parents were looking at him and each other as though he were an alien. They did not get him at all.He could have been speaking another language.
I, however,being the oldest of six children, was fluent in 'little boy'. So I started joking back with him, answering his questions, asking some of my own.. And the atmosphere around the table seemed to sigh a great breath of relief. I felt like the ambassador to Kidland.

Justin and I shortly excused ourselves from the table (It was clear Jeff's father wanted to do some real catching up with him), and made our way to his bedroom where we told some more jokes, he showed me his toys, and i got him into his PJ's and started to read him a story. At the end of the story, Justin's mom came in and sat at the edge of the bed with a lovely smile on her face. She looked about a million times more relaxed than she had at the dinner table.

I thought I knew what was going on. She and her husband had big, stressful grown-up jobs that they had to do every day. They had this little boy when they were a bit older - more set in their ways, and it didn't seem like either of them spoke the language. So Justin was confusing to them sometimes. When he thought he was being the most witty fellow in the room telling some wicked good fart joke, then screaming with laughter - they mistook it for bad behavior at the dinner table. And they were tired. Any one who's ever been around a 6 yr old boy knows that they almost ALWAYS have a LOT of energy. It's hard to deal with that much energy when you're 40 and you've been thinking about brains and important, serious things all day. ...MUCH easier for a 17yr old who still has about three quarters of that energy.
Anyway.Jeff and I listened to the James Taylor greatest hits album about a dozen times at his dad's house. And some Nat King Cole. And I fell in love with Justin.

The best day we had over there was when Jeff took us to the beach to see the seals. I was skeptical that we would really see them up close - but we did! Justin and I sat at the edge of a giant rock getting splashed over and over again by waves that sparkled in the sun. And the seals were right there, as promised.
Jeff watched us from a distance, tee-shirt wrapped around his head, hiding from the sun like a sensible red head, reading his book. He was finally seduced into joining us because we were having SO much fun.It was one of the best days of my life.

By the end of my trip, Jeff's step mother and father offered me a nanny position. I will always wonder what my life would have looked like if I'd taken it.


As the days and nights went by, and especially after my poison oak had cleared up, something began to change between Jeff and I.
It was small. So small, I thought maybe I was imagining it.I wasn't.
By the fourth of July, we were back at Jeff's mom's house. We all went to this super fabulous party on the beach. It was at a family friend's house. Their back yard was the Malibu beach. Jeff, his brother and Steve didn't seem to think it was any big deal - but I was kind of blown away. It looked like a movie to me.
I was in a great mood. But something was a little off with Jeff. So Steve and I went on a walk down the beach. Jeff ended up following us - a little petulantly at first, I think. Steve had beer. We drank it. There may have been champaigne. I decided I was a mermaid and took half my clothes off - swam out to a big rock. An 'island'. Jeff came out to drag me back when I threatened to sleep there all night, and we ended up kissing on the sand.
I remember being freezing cold - he found a blanket or a big towel that we wrapped up in together.I was warm, even in my wet panties - all snuggled up to his chest. Completely high on love. And then the fireworks came. Right over our heads.
They were so beautiful, and so close.It felt like the Universe was putting on this great show - just for me. Just for us.

I lost my purse with all my money and my ID to the tide that night - but I could care less.

When we got home and into bed, I finally had the courage to ask Jeff what was wrong.
"Nothing", he said.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course, it's nothing." he said. Then he turned his back to me and rolled further away from me.
"well, why are you way over there, then?"
" I just can't take it any more, Jennifer."
"ah", I thought.
I had suspected as much.We still hadn't had sex. It was getting hard for me, too.
But I couldn't - didn't know how to deal with that hurt, slightly mad tone in his voice that night. It hurt me to hear it. Especially after being a mermaid and kissing under the fireworks, laughing with Steve - the 3 Muskateers - all of it.
I went to sleep with a terrible lump in my throat feeling helpless and inadequate.
The next day, Jeff and I did that weird avoiding thing that people figure out how to do when they are in each other's company, and in front of other people, and don't know how to deal - or have a private moment to do it.

It was a beautiful day. AGAIN. Malibu. Sun. Steve being charming - everyone but us apparently in the best fucking mood of their whole lives.
In the afternoon, Jeff snuck away from me to go practice the Sax in his room.
That hurt. I wasn't going to let that happen. So, when I heard him playing upstairs, I shot Steve a look, and Steve seemed to give me a "go ahead" look back, and I ran up there like a little bunny rabbit and jumped on the bed.
Jeff cut his playing short and came over to sit with me. He let out this big, dramatic sigh and said, "What do you want?"
"Well, I'm not the agressive type, but I never said I didn't want to...you know. I just haven't been able to start it - and I think you're such a nice guy, such a gentleman...I mean it's just a misunderstanding."
"Yea. Well, the thing is, Jennifer, that we've been fooling around so much, and it's gotten so close - and I just can't take it anymore. It's making me crazy. When we stop."
"So. Let's not stop."
he rolled his eyes a little bit, "When?"
"Now. Let's not stop now."
he still looked a little bit frustrated so I repeated myself as I started unbuttoning his shirt, "Right now. No stopping."
That got him cracked open.

As we undressed each other, Steve Fox began playing classical guitar right under our window, which made us laugh even more than we already were.
"Well, I don't think you planned this.." I said.
I wasn't nervous. Not much.I was nervous about it hurting, but nothing else.

The music kept playing as we finally didn't stop.He kept looking into my eyes, a little worried - maybe I was scrunching up my face or something. It did hurt. But I looked right back at him and kept saying "It's ok. It's ok."
He was smooth and perfect, and everything was silky and lovely down there.
I trusted him. Absolutely.


When we were done this wave of euphoria began to engulf me. It kind of snuck up on me - and things just didn't feel very real. Steve was still playing under our window, a breeze was coming in from the garden just barely caressing our warm bodies, and there was....blood on the sheets.
I don't know why that surprised me so much. But it did.

Jeff had beautiful, light blue sheets. He didn't make a big deal out of the blood at all.

I lost my virginity on a beautiful afternoon in Malibu California with classical guitar serenading us. I "lost" it to someone I knew I would always love.

.....and WHY has it taken this long?

It's taken this long because my computer crashed. Took everything with it. And it cost SO much money to fix/regain content.
But that's not really why. It's been up and running for months now.
It's taken so long because I went to Thailand, came back to crisis, was in the last dramatic throws of a huge lawsuit, and then I cut out and went to Europe for a little while.
But that's not really why , either. It's because I don't want to finish the story.
Like a book you don't want to end. Start reading slower and slower as you come to the last chapters.I never wanted this story to end.
There aren't that many stories like that in my life. Lots of good ones.And LOADS that i couldn't WAIT to end....but there has never been a story like this.
This story was for me a beginning and an end. And many of the people that went to Interlochen may be able to relate on some level.
Leaving Interlochen was hard enough no matter who your parents were, or what great college or conservatory you were going to.For me, this was losing my virginity on many levels at once.
And ,maybe, it's also because I don't feel like a very good writer anymore - and I want so badly to do it justice.
But what the hell. There is always the option to rewrite, and i can't sleep anyway.....