I was such a naive person. I didn't think so then, but looking back, I was incredibly naive.
That Friday was like any other. Especially any other recent Friday. Andrew had been seeing doctor after doctor to try to figure out where the impressive rash came from. Earlier that day, he was sent for a CT scan. I got off work to go sit with him and keep him company while he drank his contrast. We just hung out in the waiting room until it was his turn. I was disappointed when they made me continue to wait in the lobby. Then, it was over. I went back to work. He went home to rest.
When I got home from work, Andrew was sitting in the dark on the couch with his phone in his hand. The mood in the room was somber and eery. I sat next to him on the couch, let out my usual "glad to be home" sigh, and waited for some sort of action on his part. My boss had bought us Harry Potter tickets for opening night and the show was in a few hours. I had been busy during the day coordinating with my parents since we had given my dad 2 extra tickets for his birthday. But something wasn't right. Then it came out.
"The doctor called."
"Oh? What did she say?"
He was hardly audible. He mumbled something about them finding out what was wrong. CT Scan. Lymph nodes. Oncologist. Lymphoma. Huntsman. These words popped out at me. I could hardly hear anything else Andrew said while I studied the key words in my head. He said that I needed to call the doctor. Apparently the doctor had explained things to Andrew, but Andrew wanted her to explain them to me, too.
As I dialed the number, my heart was pounding. For so long now, we had just wanted to know what this was... and now, I wasn't so sure I ever wanted to know. I wanted to hang up the phone, hug my husband, and go to the movie. Not tonight. I didn't want to know. The phone rang. Huntsman Cancer Hospital. That word sent a shudder through my body. I asked for the oncologist on-call, as instructed.
The oncologist went through the explanation. The CT scans got in her hands after the dermatologist was skeptical about what she was seeing. We needed to get up there now. Andrew looked like he had Hodgkin's Disease. This was not near as scary as before. The word disease was a much nicer word than cancer. I tried to calm my fears by asking questions. I told her that he was a full-time student-- we both were-- and that we had finals coming up shortly. I told her it was important for us to not miss classes this close to the end of the semester. I asked her if we could get treatment started right away so he could get back to school for finals. She must have realized my naivety at that moment.
"Honey, he won't be going back to school this semester."
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Virginity
Virginity is overrated.
I have that opinion now, and I had it at 16.
Once I decided I was ready to jump into sex, it was all a matter of timing. Everyone knows that one's first time is not necessarily a pleasant experience, nor are they any good at the deed. But most insist on making it at least a meaningful experience.
The only meaning I was looking for was to get it done. Break that ice; tear out the stitches; rip the bandage. I wanted it done, and I wanted it simple. So then, it comes to no surprise that when the timing was right, I had just met the guy and I would never see him again. I couldn't have planned it better. Perhaps this would act as a set up for the remainder of my sexual life. Perhaps it was only fitting to happen this way.
I was on vacation with my family. The school year and early summer had left me burnt out but enjoying the time away and with my friends. This was the one vacation I took that year. All other family vacations I had opted out of for lame reasons-- usually claiming I had to "work." Truth be told, I enjoyed having free reign of the house and having people over without having someone there to supervise. The vacation was to Boise, Idaho to visit family there. My cousin, Shea is about my age. We have always gotten along great and are great friends.
One day we got into the truth talk. She admitted that her downfall with morality and "sin" was boys. She is an attractive girl and it was no surprise to me that the boys would be all over her. Mine, of course, was marijuana. One night, a few of her friends came by the house to hang out. We were across the street in her friend's truck, smoking a bowl until we got called in for the night. Everyone watched a movie while Shea and I hung out in her room just talking and laughing. We decided that we should sneak out that night. She called some of her older friends and they agreed to come pick us up. When it got late enough that we were sure everyone had gone off to bed, we climbed through her bedroom window, met the boys down the street and were off.
At first, it was relatively dull. We drove around, unsure of what to do or where to go. We just aimlessly drove around and talked. Truth be told, the boys were actually pretty rude with us and irritating. Finally, it was decided to go to a house and hang out. One of the boys was particularly interested in Shea and had been for some time. Apparently, she had slept with him before, and he was obviously hopeful that it would happen again. We sat on dude's couch and all talked for awhile, then Shea and the other boy left into a bedroom. I sat on the couch with the remaining male for a few more minutes talking. Finally, he said, "You know... it is your last night here... what do you say we make it a fun one?" That was all the pushing I needed. I couldn't have said it better myself.
20 minutes later, we emerged from the room. Him, probably a little disappointed, and me, relieved. It was over. I had taken care of that little nagging problem, and now I could move on to good sex with people I cared about, or in the least, good sex.
Sure, maybe my "first time" could have been more meaningful and would have been a special moment in my life to treasure. I don't have a need to get the butterflies and the flushed face talking about losing my virginity. Besides-- most people don't even talk about these things! Having a first time is just that step you have to take... it sucks sometimes. But, there is a first for everything.
I have that opinion now, and I had it at 16.
Once I decided I was ready to jump into sex, it was all a matter of timing. Everyone knows that one's first time is not necessarily a pleasant experience, nor are they any good at the deed. But most insist on making it at least a meaningful experience.
The only meaning I was looking for was to get it done. Break that ice; tear out the stitches; rip the bandage. I wanted it done, and I wanted it simple. So then, it comes to no surprise that when the timing was right, I had just met the guy and I would never see him again. I couldn't have planned it better. Perhaps this would act as a set up for the remainder of my sexual life. Perhaps it was only fitting to happen this way.
I was on vacation with my family. The school year and early summer had left me burnt out but enjoying the time away and with my friends. This was the one vacation I took that year. All other family vacations I had opted out of for lame reasons-- usually claiming I had to "work." Truth be told, I enjoyed having free reign of the house and having people over without having someone there to supervise. The vacation was to Boise, Idaho to visit family there. My cousin, Shea is about my age. We have always gotten along great and are great friends.
One day we got into the truth talk. She admitted that her downfall with morality and "sin" was boys. She is an attractive girl and it was no surprise to me that the boys would be all over her. Mine, of course, was marijuana. One night, a few of her friends came by the house to hang out. We were across the street in her friend's truck, smoking a bowl until we got called in for the night. Everyone watched a movie while Shea and I hung out in her room just talking and laughing. We decided that we should sneak out that night. She called some of her older friends and they agreed to come pick us up. When it got late enough that we were sure everyone had gone off to bed, we climbed through her bedroom window, met the boys down the street and were off.
At first, it was relatively dull. We drove around, unsure of what to do or where to go. We just aimlessly drove around and talked. Truth be told, the boys were actually pretty rude with us and irritating. Finally, it was decided to go to a house and hang out. One of the boys was particularly interested in Shea and had been for some time. Apparently, she had slept with him before, and he was obviously hopeful that it would happen again. We sat on dude's couch and all talked for awhile, then Shea and the other boy left into a bedroom. I sat on the couch with the remaining male for a few more minutes talking. Finally, he said, "You know... it is your last night here... what do you say we make it a fun one?" That was all the pushing I needed. I couldn't have said it better myself.
20 minutes later, we emerged from the room. Him, probably a little disappointed, and me, relieved. It was over. I had taken care of that little nagging problem, and now I could move on to good sex with people I cared about, or in the least, good sex.
Sure, maybe my "first time" could have been more meaningful and would have been a special moment in my life to treasure. I don't have a need to get the butterflies and the flushed face talking about losing my virginity. Besides-- most people don't even talk about these things! Having a first time is just that step you have to take... it sucks sometimes. But, there is a first for everything.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Photo Shoot
Amidst the troubles with high school and just generally being teenage girls in an oppressive community with the weight of religion bearing down on our shoulders, Megan's mom announced that maybe it would be better if Megan went to live with her dad. We were a couple of wild teenage girls... addicted to highs and lows, namely, marijuana and alcohol. We rarely attended classes, had disruptive behavior, and caused hell at home.
The arranged (or talked about) move to California was supposed to be a cure for our adolescents. In talking about the move, Megan and I became petrified that we didn't have any pictures of us with each other. We were, after all, connected at the hip through most of high school. After what should have been school that day, we made our way back to Megan's house with a camera. It started out innocent. We did our hair, tried on some different clothes an just generally played around with the camera.
Soon, the clothes were coming off the poses more provocative. It was chaos. There were sheets in the background with props. Some pictures together, some separately. It was all innocent fun, and we could never have guessed what would come next...
t the time, we were taking pictures quite frequently and had mastered the art of developed photograph theft. We would walk in to the store (Wal-Mart), pick up the pictures, then aimlessly walk around the store, looking at our pictures, pointing and laughing at them, then that aimless walk would take us right out the front door. Worked like a charm... and the guilt factor wasn't there because it was fucking Wal-Mart for god's sake.
Picking up those pictures was a little different, however. We could nearly see the smirks behind the counter from the little developer boys. I'm sure we were blushing (or at least I was blushing). We repeated our usual performance, and that landed us at our car where we hightailed out of there. We picked up double exposures so we could each keep a set. There were some... interesting pictures.
Some people at school found out about "the pictures" and made some jokes and provocative comments... we didn't mind so much. But then, the ultimate kicker came. Her mother got her hands on the pictures. We went from best friends to lesbian lovers. Just like that. It was a devastating possibility for a single Mormon mother of eight. Of course, the phone tree started and we were forbidden to see each other. It was more comical for the two of us than anything else. How on earth would our mothers
be able to keep us from seeing each other when we attended school together. Somehow word got out... and we were constantly being asked, "Isn't it like illegal for you two to be around each other??"We would just laugh.
Fuck them.
Photographs shown are "cropped" versions of the originals.
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