Saturday, December 25, 2004
High School Crush Pt. 2
Despite my occasional nasty, juicy, red zits and my sometimes uncontrollable, puffy, semi-long hair which would make most aesthetically-minded people run 100mph the other way, Youa would still smile at me and hold up a conversation. Time proved her one of the best friends I made in high school.
Luck had it that at the end of my sophomore year, when Youa graduated, I was accepted to take classes at the university she would be attending. The university, while huge, was small enough for us to run into each other here and there, and in our mutual struggle to adapt to yet another new environment, we made a point to meet up for lunch, or just for some homework sessions in the library after classes were over for the day.
So now, a year since I had last seen her, once she finished switching her grandma's IV tube, we bid her family good bye and drove off to the movie theatre. We both, somehow, sat through 3 hours of Alexander, which was intense. And then since she insisted to buy my movie ticket, I insisted to get her something to eat.
We drove around the outskirts of the Twin Cities, among the boonie neighborhoods and the new silicon suburban developments, for half an hour looking for a half-decent place to eat. Eventually we came across a dimly-lit, sleepy, concrete strip mall along the highway. Nestled in the middle of a sea of parked cars, we found an empty Bruger's Bagel shop. We walked inside and asked if they were still open. Yes, we had twenty minutes left to sit and eat our veggie rosemary-oil bagels before they closed down.
Finally, after a year, we had a chance to sit down face to face and catch up on all the mayhem we missed in each other's lives. I told her about my nightmare of a roommate, and how with a little perseverance and a lot of luck I managed to move out of that hell and into a single room in a different dorm where I found some peace, quiet, and finally some friends. She told me how she's thinking about applying to pharmacy school. Wow, I was so proud of her. This girl came to America as a refugee, grew up in poverty, and to this day can't speak English too well. Few people ever put much faith in her, and yet here she is, rounding out her fourth year of college and thinking about pharmacy school.
"We're closing up now," one of the employees told us. Our time was up. Her father had been calling her and imploring her in Hmong to come home, though that she didn't tell me. I knew our time together was limited, and another year may pass till we see each other again. Of all our five years of friendship we've yet to commemorate it with one picture together. We needed to do it now, or it may never happen.
"Who's going to take our picture?" Youa asked me.
"I don't know." I was too embarrassed to ask one of the Bruger's employees, and Youa was too. We passed another minute or two talking, enough time to convince me to swallow my pride and seize the moment. I walked up to the lady closing up the cashier, "Would you mind taking a picture of us?"
She gave me a blank stare, like, what do I get paid to take customer's pictures? She hardly muttered OK, but I had already thanked her and dashed out to my car to get the camera.
"We're high school friends and we haven't seen each other in a year," I told the cashier as I took the ice-cold camera out of its case. She smiled a bit. I think she finally warmed up to the idea, but I was still embarrassed by my request. I just wanted her to snap the pictures quick and so we could be out of there as soon as possible. Youa less than 5 feet tall stood beside me. I felt like a giant beside her. As she conveniently put her arm around my waist, I tried to kneel down and wrap my arm around shoulder.
"Cheese!" she said. We both busted out toothy smiles, but they camera never flashed. The smiles lingered tensely on our faces waiting as we waited for the picture.
"Try it again!" We refreshed our smiles and stood waiting. Nada. Youa ran up to the lady and took the camera to figure out what's wrong. She fumbled around with it for a bit. "Here, let me see what's wrong." I reach my hand out and moved in a bit closer. I brought my head close to the camera to see if something looked wrong. But Youa wouldn't let go. "Here, just let me have a look." "No, hold on a second, she insisted." I got closer to try to inspect the camera, and all of a sudden I was blinded by a bright blitz of light. As I tried to refocus my eyesight, everyone broke out into a hearty laughter. All right, at least we're all a bit more chilled out now, I thought.
The second round of pictures went much better. We thanked the lady and made our way back into the car.
It was a balmy 3 degrees outside. "Brrrrrrrrrr!!!" I shouted as I felt the snot in my nose freeze. We both sat shivering in the car as we waited for it to warm up a bit. I reached for my seatbelt, and Youa cocked her head up.
"Do you want me to give you a kiss?" she asked.
As if the shock from the cold wasn't enough, my eyes got even bigger and I blinked. "Give me a what?"
Youa was fearless. "Do you want me to give you a kiss?"
"A kiss?!" We were friends. It wasn't like that, after all these years where was this coming from?
Youa smiled and I could see her slightly crooked brown-white teeth. I guess her family never had the money to invest in luxuries like dental hygiene.
"One kiss or many kisses?" She insisted. I gulped as I pictured her lips up against mine.
"On the cheek," I offered.
"OK, one kiss or many kisses?"
"On the cheek?" I wanted to make sure, and yet felt incredibly dumb, like an elementary school kid to whom kissing was still a big deal.
"One kiss or many kisses?"
"On the cheek?" I looked at her as I tried to hide in my puffy winter coat.
She put her fist in my face. I stared at it. What did she want now? She smiled at me and leaned forward. I pushed my head back against the driver's seat. She opened her fist and revealed a handful of Hershey kisses. Oh man. I wanted to piss in my pants (well not really).
"Ahhh!! Hahhaahah," Youa laughed at me. "What did you think I meant?!"
LOL. I was so embarrassed I couldn't stop laughing. She knew exactly what I thought she meant. I gladly took a bunch of her kisses. They were filled with caramel and absolutely delicious.
Luck had it that at the end of my sophomore year, when Youa graduated, I was accepted to take classes at the university she would be attending. The university, while huge, was small enough for us to run into each other here and there, and in our mutual struggle to adapt to yet another new environment, we made a point to meet up for lunch, or just for some homework sessions in the library after classes were over for the day.
So now, a year since I had last seen her, once she finished switching her grandma's IV tube, we bid her family good bye and drove off to the movie theatre. We both, somehow, sat through 3 hours of Alexander, which was intense. And then since she insisted to buy my movie ticket, I insisted to get her something to eat.
We drove around the outskirts of the Twin Cities, among the boonie neighborhoods and the new silicon suburban developments, for half an hour looking for a half-decent place to eat. Eventually we came across a dimly-lit, sleepy, concrete strip mall along the highway. Nestled in the middle of a sea of parked cars, we found an empty Bruger's Bagel shop. We walked inside and asked if they were still open. Yes, we had twenty minutes left to sit and eat our veggie rosemary-oil bagels before they closed down.
Finally, after a year, we had a chance to sit down face to face and catch up on all the mayhem we missed in each other's lives. I told her about my nightmare of a roommate, and how with a little perseverance and a lot of luck I managed to move out of that hell and into a single room in a different dorm where I found some peace, quiet, and finally some friends. She told me how she's thinking about applying to pharmacy school. Wow, I was so proud of her. This girl came to America as a refugee, grew up in poverty, and to this day can't speak English too well. Few people ever put much faith in her, and yet here she is, rounding out her fourth year of college and thinking about pharmacy school.
"We're closing up now," one of the employees told us. Our time was up. Her father had been calling her and imploring her in Hmong to come home, though that she didn't tell me. I knew our time together was limited, and another year may pass till we see each other again. Of all our five years of friendship we've yet to commemorate it with one picture together. We needed to do it now, or it may never happen.
"Who's going to take our picture?" Youa asked me.
"I don't know." I was too embarrassed to ask one of the Bruger's employees, and Youa was too. We passed another minute or two talking, enough time to convince me to swallow my pride and seize the moment. I walked up to the lady closing up the cashier, "Would you mind taking a picture of us?"
She gave me a blank stare, like, what do I get paid to take customer's pictures? She hardly muttered OK, but I had already thanked her and dashed out to my car to get the camera.
"We're high school friends and we haven't seen each other in a year," I told the cashier as I took the ice-cold camera out of its case. She smiled a bit. I think she finally warmed up to the idea, but I was still embarrassed by my request. I just wanted her to snap the pictures quick and so we could be out of there as soon as possible. Youa less than 5 feet tall stood beside me. I felt like a giant beside her. As she conveniently put her arm around my waist, I tried to kneel down and wrap my arm around shoulder.
"Cheese!" she said. We both busted out toothy smiles, but they camera never flashed. The smiles lingered tensely on our faces waiting as we waited for the picture.
"Try it again!" We refreshed our smiles and stood waiting. Nada. Youa ran up to the lady and took the camera to figure out what's wrong. She fumbled around with it for a bit. "Here, let me see what's wrong." I reach my hand out and moved in a bit closer. I brought my head close to the camera to see if something looked wrong. But Youa wouldn't let go. "Here, just let me have a look." "No, hold on a second, she insisted." I got closer to try to inspect the camera, and all of a sudden I was blinded by a bright blitz of light. As I tried to refocus my eyesight, everyone broke out into a hearty laughter. All right, at least we're all a bit more chilled out now, I thought.
The second round of pictures went much better. We thanked the lady and made our way back into the car.
It was a balmy 3 degrees outside. "Brrrrrrrrrr!!!" I shouted as I felt the snot in my nose freeze. We both sat shivering in the car as we waited for it to warm up a bit. I reached for my seatbelt, and Youa cocked her head up.
"Do you want me to give you a kiss?" she asked.
As if the shock from the cold wasn't enough, my eyes got even bigger and I blinked. "Give me a what?"
Youa was fearless. "Do you want me to give you a kiss?"
"A kiss?!" We were friends. It wasn't like that, after all these years where was this coming from?
Youa smiled and I could see her slightly crooked brown-white teeth. I guess her family never had the money to invest in luxuries like dental hygiene.
"One kiss or many kisses?" She insisted. I gulped as I pictured her lips up against mine.
"On the cheek," I offered.
"OK, one kiss or many kisses?"
"On the cheek?" I wanted to make sure, and yet felt incredibly dumb, like an elementary school kid to whom kissing was still a big deal.
"One kiss or many kisses?"
"On the cheek?" I looked at her as I tried to hide in my puffy winter coat.
She put her fist in my face. I stared at it. What did she want now? She smiled at me and leaned forward. I pushed my head back against the driver's seat. She opened her fist and revealed a handful of Hershey kisses. Oh man. I wanted to piss in my pants (well not really).
"Ahhh!! Hahhaahah," Youa laughed at me. "What did you think I meant?!"
LOL. I was so embarrassed I couldn't stop laughing. She knew exactly what I thought she meant. I gladly took a bunch of her kisses. They were filled with caramel and absolutely delicious.
