"First Real Love"

It just took a glance. Turning my eyes toward the long row of students, I noticed this tall, lanky guy that topped over every one's head. To me, everyone was tall since I was only 58 inches or four-ten. But I kept on going. The cafeteria was packed, and, thank God, Greta had secured us a table, and waited there while I shopped for our lunch. We always went "Dutch "and opted for similar menu options. Hamburgers surpassed "mystery"lasagna casserole and salads seemed safer than " soaked" fries.

Someone almost knocked down my tray as I squeezed my way back to our table. "Next time. I'll get in line. They almost killed you out there! " 

"Great idea ! Did you see that? Short people's lives are not valued here."

 And we burst out laughing. 

Greta always made me laugh. That's why I chose her for my lunch companion whenever our schedules coincided. Lunch was a time to nourish our spirits ; cafeteria food was not essential. We had become good friends through laughter in our English History course where we made it our goal to get the highest score on every assignment in order to frustrate the class bookworm who followed us into the hallway after every test to ask our opinion of the test, and then, after grades were issued , to see why we had scored one or more points higher than he. We loved studying our eyes out to meet our goal: either she or I had to get the highest grade in that class every time!

At lunch, we would take time to go over the next test study strategy as our laughter sometimes triumphed over the noisy cafeteria.  It was at one of these meetings, that the tall, lanky guy approached our table and asked to join us. Immediately, Greta acquiesced. I assumed she knew him and got up for more napkins while they chatted. Upon my return, she introduced Harold. Then she rushed out to her next class. I was free, so Harold engaged in light conversation until we both finished eating; like me, he was a slow eater! 

As I planned my study strategy in the library, Harold popped into my history outline. "Hey, what's up?? .... See you!...Late for class! "

And the three sentences continued to echo through my history outline. 

Why was I dwelling on Harold? In high school, love was not; it was merely infatuation with Eric because he was a popular athlete and everyone worshipped him, but he invited ME to the prom! And that was it! He went to college to another country! But with Harold, it was different. It was silent. It was deeper. He did something to my heart every time he appeared. 

Nonsense, let's get back to history! 

For his size and built, his voice was quite soft, yet not squeaky. It was masculine, but not loud! He wasn't handsome-gorgeous! But not ugly either. His hair was brownish or was it dirty blonde? But it was scarce , not a lot of hair. A large bare forehead : they say that's a sign of intelligence! His eyes: tiny for my taste, but when we talked he had complete eye contact and his penetrating pierce touched my soul. 

Nonsense, let's get back to history! 

Cafeteria meetings with Greta and Harold continued. They were brief and unscheduled, but I began to almost predict the days when he would show up! For some reason, I started to embellish myself with deliberate care those mornings at home before leaving for college. I should have known...but no, learning was my priority!

No matter how I attempted to dispel the Harold spirit, it appeared in my thoughts and in person around the college campus. One day, he offered me a ride home. "No, thanks, I already have a ride! " A lie, but with a smile attached to it! I was shocked at the possibility of being alone with Harold, at last, in his car! 

I didn't know him well enough, except that his family lived in anther town, his sisters were in high school, he studied architecture, he was a Senior, he drove a sports car, he was an average student, not studious like me, he loved racing cars on Saturdays. I really didn't know him well enough.... 

Eventually, I did enter that sports car, and he gave me a ride home. I couldn't quite concentrate on the music on his radio because my heart was beating so loud. On the next ride home, his long fingers crawled their way toward my hand, but I held it back shyly, not abruptly, gently. Something kept me from holding his hand though I really wanted to. 

On the fourth ride home, he met my dad and gave him car motor advice. Dad fell in love with him. Mom invited him for supper. Thank God, he couldn't stay and had to rush back! I wasn't ready for a longer visit because I was so attracted to him, I didn't want to blush or act silly in front of my parents. Of course, Mom spilled the news of my upcoming birthday. And of course, Harold made sure to deliver a birthday card and a gift to my home on that day! Thank God, I was at the movies with my friends.

"Channel No. 5! You've got to be kidding. He likes you!! " That was Greta's immediate, "profound "assessment. Then, she confessed that she didn't know him, but she allowed him to join us at lunch because he seemed so friendly and easy going. 

I couldn't tell Greta that I had read his card and sprayed that perfume on my pillow every night since. Those moments were too precious, too intimate to share.

But I still had doubts, there was something about his gentle ways that really attracted me, but there were some pauses...longer that usual silences in our conversations in the car that made me slow down, pause and observe cautiously. 

Two weeks after my birthday, a Monday, at 3:40 pm to be exact, I was walking out of class. Our linguistics professor was ill and didn't show up. I couldn't be happier since I had to catch up and study for two exams on the next day! Lucky me dashed out into campus at an unusual hour of day. As I was about to cross the walkway into the Student Center when from a distance, I saw that unmistakable Harold's sport car parked illegally in front of the student center with a tall co-pilot next to him. Very long hair braided to the side and red looped earrings exited before a tall, slim figure. She looked like a pasarela model. After exchanging a kiss, a love kiss not a friends' kiss,he handed her two books and sped away. 

That evening, I didn't study for any exam. In my silent, dim bedroom , I kept playing the " video" of Harold and "Miss Statuesque " in my brain. Then, I tore up Harold's birthday card into a million pieces right down the toilet. My pillow didn't smell of perfume for the first time in two weeks. I cried into it all night. 

The next day, needless to say, I performed poorly on both exams. Thanks to Harold, I almost failed, but never again!

" Honey, Harold came here this afternoon looking for you! I told him you were taking exams."

"Really? That' s too bad, Mom."

"He said, he' ll drop by tomorrow afternoon."

"Mom, I rather not see Harold. When he comes, tell him I am with my study group" 

"He seems like a nice guy, a little too tall for you?"

" Something like that! " 

Mom did not deserve to hear my sad story. I brushed it off as swiftly and merrily as I could. 

I deserved better! 

Years later, I found out that while in college, all four years, Harold had given Louise, one of my high school friends, a pre- engagement ring, that they had married, and that just before their twentieth wedding anniversary, they had divorced because of Harold' s infidelities. Harold was also Louise's first real love. With tears blocking her sight, she confessed this to me at a class high school reunion.

All I could say to her was : " You deserve better! "