Back to 1989

As I walk along the pathway that lay beside the rusting playground where I grew up, a million memories swarm in my head… But what catches my attention isn’t the new statue they’d built, nor the rose beds but instead, a man who looked all too familiar. 

…

It’s wintertime 1989, I’m fourteen years old sitting on the swing next to Marco, the best-looking guy from my grade nine class. I wore the red and white checked dress stained with coke with a denim jacket despite my mother’s warning about the weather. It was freezing and the river that flowed nearby was almost frozen over. We sat side by side on our swings occasionally talking, sometimes looking at each other, and rarely laughing.

…

It was the biggest dare yet this year. My grade had come up with some stupid dare system where if you did something that the whole class voted you do, then somehow, you’d become more popular. And that was my dream – popularity. I was just Santana, the brown-haired, brown skin, brown eyed girl that no one ever bothered to talk to. So the day I finally spoke up and said I wanted to take part in the immature dare game they called The Devils Dare, was the day most kids actually noticed me for the first time. 

I did have one friend, Angie, but she had just moved schools before The Devils Dare began… lucky her. So that left me alone and I was sick of living like that. At fourteen years old, I’d never even held hands with a guy!

Vivian, my class’s most beautiful, most popular girl had done everything. She’d held hands with not only one, but many boys, even kissed a few too and who knows what else, and one day she came to school ‘drunk’ claiming she’d stolen alcohol from her parent’s liquor cabinet. But the day Vivian came to school and announced she had a boyfriend, three years older than her was the day I was sick of being lonely. So, I spoke up.

“I’ll play,” everyone turned to look at me. I could feel my cheeks beginning to turn the colour of a tomato. 

No one spoke. They were all either completely in shock or didn’t know what to say. “What?” said Vivian. 

“I said, I want to play.”

“You want to play The Devils Dare?”

“You heard me,” I replied, joining the circle.

Vivian began to shake her head. She turned to look at the rest of the people in the group which was essentially my whole grade. But none of them argued against me and my offer to play. 

Flicking her perfect blonde locks back over her shoulder, she turned her attention back to me. “Fine, it’s Elliot’s turn to pick the dare so let’s hear what he has up his sleeve shall we?”

Elliot, being Marco’s sidekick and even more irritating follower smirked and cleared his throat. “Santana, Santana, Santana…”

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to give me my dare. For some reason, the silence in the air didn’t even make me anxious, somehow, I felt… ready.

“I’m waiting Elliot,” I said getting a little bit impatient.

“And I’m thinking, Santana.”

“I have a dare,” snickered Vivian. “Mind if I steal this one from you Elliot?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine, go ahead.” Everyone gave into Vivian, it was like the boys were under some type of trance anytime she asked for a favour. To retrieving her a pencil or carrying her to the sickbay when she fell over in sport one time, the boys were willing to go miles and miles for her. Maybe one day they’d realise.

“I dare Santana to go out with Marco. This weekend. At Pablo’s Diner, 6 pm sharp.”

I instantly look up at Vivian, slowly my eyes are drawn to the other side of the circle where Marco sits glaring at me. “Vivian, are you kidding me? Santana?” He rolled his eyes. “No way!”

“I’m down,” I say. Murmurs start to arise and chatter replaces the silence. “I’ll be there, Saturday night at Pablo’s, 6 pm.”

That was that so I got up and walked away, leaving my classmates behind.

…

5:55 pm, Saturday night I walk into Pablo’s Diner to find Marco. As I walk through the door, the bell rings and instantly I’m hit with the sounds and smell of Italian food. Marco’s nowhere to been seen so I take a seat on the empty booth right at the back of the diner by the window. The bell chimes and a boy with blond hair, hazel eyes, and adorable dimples walks in – it’s Marco. He sees me and begins to walk my way. He’s not smiling nor frowning so that’s a start I gather.

“Hey,” I say as he sits across from me. 

“Hey,” he replies. 

Neither of us says anything for a while, I had a mental list of things to talk about in my mind but with a guy like him sitting across from me, all my brain cells had left well before I had a chance to use them.

“F-food,” I stammer. He cocks his head to one side in confusion. “Do you want to order,” I rephrase myself.

“Sure.” Marco clicks his fingers to get the attention of the closest waitress. The blonde-haired girl turns and starts towards our table. Out of all the waitresses in this town, the one to serve Marco and I is Vivian’s older and even more popular sister and not to mention the girl Marco claims to of kissed on multiple occasions. I immediately look down, busying myself with what’s on the menu.

“April,” says Marco, I didn’t know you still worked here. 

She nodded, her bosoms bouncing up and down a bit too unnaturally. “I see you’re on a date with Santana here. How adorable!” her voice sounded just as fake as her personality. I looked up, trying my best to give her my most realistic smile. 

“We’re not… o-on a date exactly,” clarified Marco almost immediately. The smile that I had tried my best to plaster on rapidly faded. 

April looked at me just in time to see my smile fade. “Well, I think Santana here had a different idea. Is that right San?”

“Santana,” I corrected her, emphasis the rest of my name. “And frankly, no, this is not a date, instead, a dare set by your sister.”

There was a pregnant pause before anyone spoke again. “Well, what can I fetch for you two?”

“I’ll take a loaded cheese pizza and coke,” said Marco.

“And I’ll take a creamy carbonara please, with a lemonade.”

April wrote down our orders and walked off. Marco pulled a bottle from his jacket, it was only small but it had a golden-brown colour to it. Taking a swig of it, he winced when the liquid trickled down his throat.

“Want some?” he pushed the bottle towards me.

I shook my head. “No thanks. What is that stuff?”

“Rum from my father’s office. He won’t even notice it’s gone.”

“Marco!” I whispered although it came out louder than intended. “You shouldn’t be drinking. You’re only fifteen!”

“Sixteen actually,” he said. There was a two-year age gap between us. Once I graduated grade three, the teachers were that impressed with my numeracy and literacy skills, fourth grade wasn’t even an option, it was straight to grade five for Santana.

Our drinks came and Marco proceeded to top up his coke with his father’s rum while I listened to him talk. His speech was beginning to sound like spaces never existed between words. The alcohol was kicking into his system and fast.

Once our food came, Marco dug into his pizza and I began with my pasta. I really thought that I was having a good night. I was beginning to actually enjoy myself when Marco tipped his glass over. It could’ve gone three ways… onto him, onto the sides of the table or, onto me. Just my luck, it tipped straight onto my lap, staining my red and white dress. I didn’t overact as most other girls would screaming hysterically, instead, I just looked up at his guilty face. 

No words escaped his lips so I stood, leaving a twenty on the table and walked out. I didn’t know where my legs were taking me. This was the first time I’d been out on the town at night. Most young girls my age would run home or run to their nearest friend’s house, but I didn’t. 

Before I knew it, my feet were crunching under the bark chips at the local park. Rain had fallen recently and I could hear the river gushing nearby but that wasn’t the only sound my ears picked up. I heard footsteps approaching me from behind. I was never one to think of the worst so I confidently spun around to face whatever or whoever was coming from behind. 

“Santana, I am so sorry, really I-I’m…”

“Forget it, Marco,” I replied in a firm tone. “You’re drunk and you just need to go home. Really this is all my fault. I was the one who wanted to play this stupid game to start with. If I’d just kept quiet, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly what?” I asked.

“We wouldn’t be here,” he said taking three steps closer. 

Now an arm’s length away from each other’s body, I noticed Marco’s tear-stained face. 

“Marco, were you crying?” I asked although I knew the answer. 

It happened within two seconds. No words said just Marco wrapping his arms around my shoulders and releasing the build-up of tears. He stood in my arms sobbing. What was I to do? Push him away? Comfort him like he’d treated me like gold my whole life? I settled on just lightly wrapping my arms around his back.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I whispered after he’d let go. His cheeks were shiny with the tears that dried on his skin. 

Then he did it. He kissed me. It wasn’t just a peck on the cheek or lips it was something more. Something that felt like it had meaning. 

“Marco…”

“Santana, I don’t care anymore.”

“About what?” 

“About who. About who sees this. About who hears about this.”

“Oh please,” I replied earnestly rolling my eyes. “As if you mean that. You’re drunk and you are going to have no comprehension of this tomorrow morning so don’t say anything you’re going to regr-”

“I love you.”

I licked my lips and nodded, raising my eyebrows in doubt. “You do?”

“Yes, I have for a while now.”

“Okay buddy,” I said carefully selecting the tone and pitch of my voice. Let’s go to the swings, shall we? Just sit? Maybe talk?”

Marco nodded. The only light in the park came from the twenty-year-old streetlamps which gave off just enough light to make out someone’s features if they were within two feet of your face. 

The swings creaked as we sat on them. “What time are your parents expecting you home?” I ask.

“9:30 pm.”

“You live on the corner of Rowling Street, right?”

He nodded vaguely. “Yeah, it’s a bit of a hike from here.”

“I’ll call for a taxi then.” I walk slowly toward the payphone on the corner of the playground block. Once I get to the phone, I glance back at the swing set to see nobody on the swing next to where I was. Instead, it swung back and forth as though someone had just gotten off it.

“Marco?” I asked. “Marco!” This time raising my voice. No response. He was gone.

…

I spent that weekend worried sick about Marco’s whereabouts. Although he’d acted like such a jerk and treated me as if I were a ghost majority of the time we’d known each other, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had meant what he’d said. He’d kissed me and told me he loved me. No one had ever said such things about me. I couldn’t even remember the last time my mother had told me she loved me. 

Monday morning rolled around and I walk through the school gates, peering around for Marco or at least his best friend, Elliot. Then, I see him. He has his back to me but I know it’s him. No one could miss Marco.

I wander over to where he sat on the ground. Elliot must have said something about me coming because Marco turned his head and immediately jumped up. I stop walking and let him approach me.

Without even saying hello I burst out with, “where the heck did you disappear to?”

“I’m sorry,”

“You’re sorry? God Marco, I was-” I stopped myself in my verbal tracks. No, I shouldn’t let him get the satisfaction of him knowing I was worried sick about him. “I was just about to call the taxi and then you were gone!”

“So he got you, yeah?” Elliot had joined the conversation at some point although I couldn’t recall inviting him. 

“You knew about this?” I asked. 

Elliot nodded, obviously very satisfied with himself. “So how was his acting?”

“Acting!?” I repeated. “But he was… Oh my God, you weren’t even drunk, were you?” I now faced Marco. “You pretended to act drunk just so you could see me make a fool of myself. I can’t believe I was even going to let myself hate you just a little less than before. Now I hate myself for even thinking about that.”

I turn the other way, my long hair flicking over my shoulder as I storm off. “He’ll take that as a compliment,” yelled out Elliot on Marco’s behalf. 

The next thing I heard although I tried my best to zone out their irritating voices was, “this has gone too far.” It was Marco’s voice. I slowed my steps but didn’t stop.

The next thing I knew, Marco had grabbed my arm and spun me around. I didn’t have time to think before he kissed me. Again. This time in front of the entire school. As our lips parted and our eyes opened there was just silence with the occasional mutter or murmur but then, someone yelled out. “Marco did it! He finally kissed Santana! The girl he’s wanted to kiss since grade five!”

It wasn’t just anyone who yelled out those words, it was Marco’s older brother. Gradually cheering and clapping became the sound I heard. Marco stood in front of me, smiling. Unconsciously, a massive grin had made its way onto my face and I stood there looking as taken aback and happy as ever. 

“It’s true, what my brother said.”

“Really?”

“Sure is.”

…

My heels crunch under the bark chips, this time, twenty-five years later. I no longer have the long dark hair trailing down my back no do I have the innocence I had twenty-five years earlier. I have life experience. I’m a mother to a ten-year-old boy back at my new home by the beach. 

“Is that Santana I see?” said the familiar voice. Nothing had changed about him, not even the blond hair or dimples in his cheeks. 

“Sure is,” I reply. I embrace Marco into a hug and take in his strong scent. “It’s been too long.”

“But here we are. Our very own high school sweetheart reunion. Just for the two of us.”

I shake my head and smile. I realised instantly that I’ve missed his presence in my life. “What do you say, want to go sit on the swing set? Maybe talk? Make sure this time you don’t disappear on me, okay?”

“Never again,” said Marco. “I don’t know why I ever let you go…”