The first time I remember getting a nose bleed was also the first time I remember getting into a fight. Neither of these firsts would be the last but they will be the ones I'll never forget. I was young. I had a very large nose and an even bigger attitude. I was an easy target for both picking on and punching so I mostly stayed to myself and tried to keep my mouth from getting me into the situations I knew my body wasn't capable of getting me out of. But it wasn't easy.
School was almost out for the year and everyone had the jitters. Even the teachers were on edge. The very air was ripe with the tension. There was no shortage of brawls. Eraser wars, food fights, stapler ambushing and even school bus sabotage. Recess always seemed to be full of anxiety about who was going to punch who and start what new war. I tried my best to stay in the shadows. But a kid can't hide forever.
This day seemed different. This particular hollow box on the calendar seemed destined to be my reckoning. Recess was in full swing and I was thirsty. I wandered over to the soda machine right outside the shop department exit. I accidentally dropped a quarter trying desperately to get it swallowed by the coin slot without it veering its own way down into the change return mechanism. It was one of those brand new shiny quarters I was having trouble with. In frustration, I tried to slam it into the slot but it ricocheted off the side and missed. That bright metallic 25 cent piece went soaring and then bouncing away from me. Because my eyes were following the money I didn't even see what was waiting for me when I went after it. A lost quarter and a dry mouth would the least of my worries.
He was small and athletic and all the girls loved him. I like to think it only had something to do with how well their petite little hands fit into his. But probably not. He was the only sixth grader I knew with a six pack. The only thirteen year old I knew in the sixth grade. Hair the color of well polished tire rubber rolled over perfectly to the side of his forehead. The James Dean of Hollywood Junior High. I on the other hand was an ogre and unable to fully coordinate my appendages. As if I was a stretched out marionette who's strings fell into the hands of a blind man. The unseeing leading the unable. I wouldn't even dare look a girl in the eye except for maybe Molly Walleby and only because she had one lazy one and a really bad cowlick.
He stood on the hop scotch one boasting of his waisted ranking and of all of the Kung fu films he had been studying. I found myself on number twelve and told him I didn't want to fight and that I liked books. All of the girls standing around him giggled and I could feel my cheeks heat up. I wanted desperately to run over to him, reach my long skinny arm up and flick my finger into his wet eyeball. But I also wanted to run away and hide. Believe me, I would have tried to stumble my way to safety if it hadn't been for one of those girls standing by his side. Ivy Anderson. The prettiest girl in school. Ivy made me want to do things thought inhumanly possible. Like reach down this punks throat and turn his liver into my own personal pet.
But I didn't.
I wouldn't.
I couldn't.
He approached quickly, confidently and seemingly obediently as if there were some invisible Sensei at his side, coaching him along. I tried my best to not stagger backwards but if there had been a breeze, I know I would have fallen over. When he was close enough, he pushed out his very defined pectoral muscles and rammed them against me. He did this a few times, and each time he did, I moved back and slightly right in my position so that we ended up circling in a sort of rough playground waltz and found ourselves back on the court hovering over number three. He called me some names, I didn't answer to any of them. I didn't even want to look him in the eye and I found that wasn't very easy to do any way since we were so close and he was at least a foot shorter than me at the time.
I said "Whoa Chuck Norris! I think the lunch lady's tater tots gave you the worst kind of foul smelling breath". He may have misunderstood me and thought it to be a much bigger insult than I imagined. I remember the top of his military clipped head getting a pinkish fiery red and hearing him shout at the top of his lungs "I would never eat anything like that you sicko!" or something similar. Then he did some sort of wrestling move on me and flipped me onto the ground.
There are only a few things I remember after that: My head hitting the ground. The weird smell that seemed to come from the inside out. And hearing the cracking sound my nose made when his knuckles made first contact. The last thing I remember is turning my face to the side in order to try to avoid more of the quick fisted inevitable and the weirdest thing became etched into my mind. Before I blacked out, I remember my eyes falling on Ivy Anderson and I'll never forget for as long as I live the expression on her face. She wore the exact look of extreme boredom. Like she had seen all of this a thousand times and knew exactly what was going to come next. All I was to her was another number. One thousand and one. I wasn't even entertaining her. The gum she was chewing and the polish on her nails were more of an emotional lift than me getting whupped. Just then as the curtains were drawing to a close, I got real sick in my stomach and put an end to the fight by throwing up. I'm pretty sure Ivy Anderson's inability for compassion wasn't the cause of my lunch coming back to visit me, but I'm thankful for whatever the reason because it's what saved my face. After making contact with my head only a few more times, rumor has it (with no shortage of colorful exaggeration), I was out pretty cold but sorta turned my head back in his direction and let loose a gusher of a puke fest. As soon as he unsuccessfully dodged my vomit and was getting off of me, the school henchmen were arriving.
I guess one of the custodians (the 6 foot 7 inch former all star lineman that seemed to barely graduate high school right into this position) picked me up and dragged me into Principal Griffy's office. I came to, sitting in a waiting chair slightly cocked to the side with an icepack in my hand and an ice pick digging into my skull. I was not a very happy camper. Until she entered the office that is. Like a dream she came floating in and gave a wink and a smile to my most recent opponent who was sitting right across from me. I was sorta delusional and hoped I would also get a glance and one of those beauty pageant grins but not a chance. She moved effortlessly past me only giving me the very faintest whiff of her kiwi strawberry essence and went right over to Principal Griffy's receptionist. I painfully sat up a little straighter and tried to soak in every syllable coming out of her mouth. She handed over a note that I suppose was going to excuse her from the rest of the day in order to get some shopping done or her teeth whitened etc. etc. As she turned to leave, she snuck in another affectionate look and blew a kiss to the karate kid. I'm not sure what I was thinking. I really don't think I was thinking anything at all. But for some crazy, hair brained reason, just as she reached the door, I called out to her. "Ivy," I said sounding very horse and sheepish at the same time. She stopped, turned quickly in order to shoot those laser blue eyes at whomever it was that was wasting her time. When her perfectly painted face met my bludgeoned one, I continued with a painful smile that sent a few cracks over my drying blood and vomit crusted lips. "Thank you for cheering for me out there today. I know I wouldn't have come out so well if I hadn't seen the tenderness in your eyes and the love in your heart". I knew both of us were on the same page in the dictionary where BS is found but he didn't know that. She scrunched her brow and flinched her head to the side a bit and I could hear Van Damme muttering something under his breath. Then she wore the faintest hint of a smile and responded with "What was your name again?" When I didn't respond for over ten seconds for the pure shock I was in, she left the office. The pain in my head became numb, the ice pack sent great drops of humidity to the floor, Bruce Lee gave me one of his classic death stares and I knew that for the first time in my life, I was in love.
I managed to get off without getting suspended. I can't say the same for my nemesis because I didn't see him in school for the rest of the week. I also managed to get off without ever having any kind of relationship with Ivy Anderson. After Junior high, I never saw or heard from her ever again. Until now. Through the spectacular inner workings of the World Wide Web and social media, I was able to track her down. At least all 31 of the Ivy Andersons I found that seemed to be a possible match. I say get off because as I sit here and look at all of their profiles, from the Olympic weightlifter to the wanna be model or the Senior Account Advisor to the doughnut maker extraodinare, none of them seem to resonate with me. And maybe none of them are the Ivy Anderson with the dynamite smile and drop dead good looks. The one that just once looked deep into my soul and with a smile, let me know that everything was going to be ok. Maybe shortly after my last encounter with her, Ivy Anderson moved far away to a tropical island and whence being recognized by the indigenous people as the goddess that she was, they eventually ended up throwing her into an active volcano in order to appease or please their own weird, finicky gods. Maybe if she had shown any interest in me at all, I would have blindly followed her to the ends of the earth and I too would have been a meal for a hungry deity. Or worse yet, one of their slaves being forced into hard labor or some kind of monotonous, life-long abstract basket weaving.
Anyway, I couldn't be any happier with the way things turned out for me. My life really took a turn for the best when I entered high school. I started to get used to being in my own skin and got a part time job working for a local clown. After learning all there is to know about clowning around, I was able to move on to bigger and better gigs and eventually joined the circus. Now, I get to travel around and perform in front of thousands of people on a weekly basis. I've got my clown friends who are pretty much like family, more exotic pets then you can shake a stick at, and the best darn food a guy could ever dream of. When I really think about it, I wouldn't have time for a relationship anyway. They take so much emotional investment and hard earned income. Besides, I'm saving all of my earnings so that one day, my dream of opening up an international, internet based pawn shop and antique store will finally be realized. And I'm getting so close!
Oh yeah! You may be wondering what ever happened to Steven Seagal. We stayed out of each others way throughout high school and after graduation. I guess he and his family moved to New York where he attended college and remained in the limelight. He eventually became a critically acclaimed stunt double on Broadway. I guess he seems to be pretty happy as well. I haven't tried to reach out to him or anything. I guess that's what makes technology so great today. I can observe whoever I want to observe and say what ever I want to say and not have to worry about getting punched in the face. Break a leg Joel Jefferson! And what I really mean by that is I kinda hope he really breaks his leg.
Well, gotta go. The natives are getting restless. And what I mean by that is my stomach is very hungry.
Good Bye.
©2014 Jesse Heikkila. Used by permission.
No comments:
Post a Comment