Sweet Hearts

July 1992

 I’ve always had crushes - since around the age of seven. Looking back, even then, I seemed hopelessly doomed to long for those boys who hardly noticed I had been in their class for an entire year (or more) . There was Gareth, Ryan, Tommy, oh and Rupert of course!  That had been the ultimate worst case of unrequited love for me - well - up until Angus . 

 I’m not certain why I’ve not written anything about him until now; mind you, whether I’ve written something or not is irrelevant. No one is going to read this. Maybe I just need to flush Angus Darling out of my system once and for all! Or on the other hand, maybe I’m immortalising him so that I might look back through this diary one day, not to reminisce but to remind myself what true love is, or was, for me at least. So I don’t lose my way in the maze of adult life; so I don’t get duped by phoney love. 

  Exams are done. Coursework too. Suddenly the road ahead has split itself wide open in front of me. Surely I should be relieved at the very least, or be crazy happy as this new chapter dawns. But I’ve never liked sunrises; I choose to gaze back at the sunsets of old chapters, with longing. 

  James has asked me out again by the way, and I have finally said yes. He’s cute but he’s not Angus - no one is Angus. I justified to myself that James could be the antidote for this deadly poison causing havoc inside: I can sense the wicked substance trickling along my veins more than ever as I’m writing this - all black and sticky, making my body buzz with boundless pain. It’s been there for as many years as I have loved Angus, but now it’s that much more potent. 

 Before school finished for good, it was easier to bear: Watching him walk through our form door before registration eased the ache, just a tiny bit. Having him in my French and English classes dampened the uneasy sensations too. My God - just listening to his voice, his laugh, his words echo within the same four walls as where I happened to be, was bloody bliss. And that would almost be enough to satisfy me and dilute the ache of the toxicity flowing inside. I say nearly enough, because it was just that; it would never calm all the fibres of my being, crying out for his attention. Or at the very least, his presence. 

 It has been three days now. Three of the longest days of my life, as I miss him. Yet, because of what I did on the last day of year eleven, I’ve made my own suffering at least one hundred times worse. Magnify that to a thousand in fact. Oh why did I kiss him? Ouch, the echoes of the giggles and whooping from the crowd is too harsh! Maybe I should stop writing this instant. I ought to find distraction. Could go get a video, maybe. No! That’s a ridiculous idea -nothing is going to work.

  What do I do though, if the torture of this love withdrawal finishes me off and I end up going mad? It might even make me sick . They say that about people who get cancer, through stress. Even so, I can’t tell anyone about my true feelings for him, not even Sharon - even when I know telling someone, could help temporarily.. 

  ‘I did it for a laugh!’ I screamed at the circling hyenas in the audience - consisting of around half of our year group. 

 I let go of Angus and immediately hurtled away from the grass arena, to become hidden from sight from the unkind onlookers; I fought back the most powerful tsunami of tears approaching the surface of my eyes. Sharon followed close behind but I needed to be alone. 

  ‘Oh my god Suzette!’ Sharon beamed, clearly revelling in being part of the fray. ‘What the fuck? What the actual fuck?’ She kept repeating , peering through the windows from inside the empty classroom I’d scurried into . ‘It’s ok! No one else is coming. Chill.’

 ‘I just - I don’t know Shaz. I just felt like doing something a bit crazy. Last day and everything. Suppose I wanted everyone to remember me, or something..’

  ‘Well he’s not going to forget you now, is he!? But why Angus? Did you fancy him? How long for? Oh my God!’ 

 Sharon jumped up to perch opposite me on one of the tables.

  I finally looked up, noticing her much envied olive skin had actually been bleached with shock. But her big brown eyes danced and twinkled brightly all the same.

 ‘No freaking way!’ I protested too keenly, ‘Angus? Of all people. No way!’ My mock hysterical laughter that followed , wouldn’t have won any awards. 

‘ Suzie’s in love with Angus, Suzie’s in love with Angus!’ Sharon sang, swinging her legs wildly, behaving like a five year old. 

 ‘Jesus Shaz! I hate the guy. He’s a tosser. Always getting into fights. Remember last year when he caused that fire near the bike shed, smoking weed! Actually I’m sure I could taste it on his lips when I..’ I lied, while my body quivered all of a sudden. A bold flashback of the kiss sat in the forefront of my brain. It might as well have come with a frame of neon flashing lights. 

 ‘Hmm,’ my best friend moaned. ‘Not convinced..’

 And that’s it. The short story of the very first and sadly very last kiss with this boy who had filled me with such a wanting for him from the moment I saw his freckled face looking up at me at the age of ten, when I was introduced to the class by Mrs Honeywell in year five. 

    If I had given in to Sharon’s inquisition however, I would have explained: ‘ I guess I knew that I would never get another chance to see him and I couldn’t bear never knowing what it would feel like to finally do it. After waiting six years to be that close.’

  Why did I do it out on the school field in front of everyone though? I’m not sure. I think the impulse just pulled me along like a riptide towards him: I was wandering along on my own (on the bustling school field) , trying to find Tina. I’d had my shirt signed by most of my mates but not her. And suddenly, miraculously he was there (Angus), sauntering along in my direction .   

Despite my heart stopping at this sight, and my mouth’s saliva turning to sand, I called to him;

 ‘Angus!’ 

He looked up from underneath his long black fringe, his hands tucked as usual, deep inside his school trouser pockets.

 Our eyes locked and it felt as though we had become the only people there. My intention was to say,

 ‘Will you sign my shirt?’ 

 Instead, I ran toward him, pulled him to me by his shirt collar and kissed him straightaway. Not just for a second either because I’m sure he kissed me back, but that’s me actually hallucinating or becoming delirious. I breathed in the overwhelming scents of Lynx deodorant, man -sweat, crisps and cut grass as my hands held onto his arms. His lips had been warmed by the hot July sun and were so, so soft. The feel of the shape and movement of muscle in his upper arms , hiding under his thin white school shirt, I shall never, ever forget. In hindsight, maybe in time I won’t regret committing the act after all! If I’d not done it, I’d not have this platinum gold memory to hold onto.  

  For the rest of the last day, I tried spending the majority of it in the girls’ toilets. None of the teachers were keeping track of attendees; they just wanted to scurry off and begin their summer holidays. And I spent some of the afternoon in the library, lurking like a criminal among the tall, dusty bookshelves, where very few of us ever went. Sharon however, relayed between me and the witnesses, providing news updates. 

 ‘He said he doesn’t care,’ she whispered through the closed cubicle door. ‘He’s being all cool about it - you know Angus.’

 ‘I’m so embarrassed , I want to die!’ I cried. ‘It was a stupid fucking idea. I don’t even like him and everyone thinks I do!’ I cried. Actually I cried, finding I had to wipe my snot away with the cheap grease proof loo roll. 

 The strange thing is that Angus also disappeared - just before our whole school assembly. So Sharon said. 

   Eventually, I didn’t see him again that day and when school ended, we all wandered off nonchalantly into the mysterious new realm of adulthood. 

 But three days on, I don’t feel like a grown up at all. I have A levels next, but how am I going to be okay in a new place, without him? All I feel is sadness and heartbreak. All I want is him. I have to see him. This cannot go on. I can’t do this. 

Still July 1992

  Mum said, ‘Suzette, you’re being melodramatic. It’s a crush, or whatever you call it these days. A fad. I felt like that about boys when I was at school.’ 

 ‘What - for six whole years in a row? That’s a crush, is it?’ I sobbed.

 I can’t believe I told her - it was only that she found me crying in my room, otherwise I wouldn’t have breathed a word. I already knew how unhelpful she would be, and she was bloody useless. 

  According to her and dad, it’s impossible to really love someone from the age of ten. It’s impossible to have urges to want to be desperately close to someone before the age of twenty or something ridiculous like that. And the whole ‘Romeo and Juliet’ theory of young love was thrown back at me too: ‘In those days, it was tradition to marry when young,’ dad told me. 

 I said yes, but they were actually in love and Juliet wasn’t marrying Paris, because she loved Romeo. It was all brutally dismissed. And when they began laughing at me, I decided to become despicable for the next few days in return. I left doors unlocked, cupboards open, loos unflushed and I drew a line at doing any chores too. My pocket money was stopped and I don’t care. I have enough saved whatever the case. Oh and I kept hiding their belongings, which has been quite funny in fact. Glasses, keys, money, shoes. Not once have they suspected me, which is even funnier as it’s just the three of us in the house. 

 Anyway, enough of that. 

 The date with James was disastrous. I treated him abysmally in fact and was so unfair. So I created the disaster.

 I felt okay while getting ready before our date though, and thought I looked trendy in my silk pink shirt and shiny pixie boots. My perm looked good too, with those new hair grips I bought from Boots. And I also wore the new black pencil skirt, finally. But just as I went to get in the car for dad to drive me to ‘Lal Quilla’, mum hugged me and whispered, ‘See! You don’t need that other idiot of a boy who never liked you. Look how beautiful you are and my goodness, how lucky James is to be seen with you darling.’

 That was all it took for my heart to hit the floor. I lost all momentum and almost asked dad to turn the car around as we approached the restaurant. But I don’t like letting people down and I knew James would be so excited. 

 Yet, once I was there, facing him in his striped blue shirt and spiked - up hair, reeking of Old Spice, I couldn’t bear my heartache. Instead of being an antidote, James actually reminded me of what I didn’t want at all. Him. Poor guy - I doubt he’ll be going on a date anytime soon. What a devil I can be. 

 The red carnations were a sweet thought. But they’re busy wilting in one of mum’s vases, sitting unloved on my windowsill as I write. 

I should have listened to my heart and cancelled instead. It would have saved face for James. I might have to write him a letter to explain. Or I could carry on with the lie that I didn’t feel well. 

August 1992

 Not certain as yet, if today was a dream. I still cannot believe it! It has been three weeks since school ended now. Three miserably long weeks ( and it has rained most days). 

 I was still lounging in bed this morning, when the doorbell rang. Dad answered it with his usual, ‘Now who the bloody hell can that be?’ Then I heard a familiar voice speaking with him. 

 I have never moved as fast in my life - not even when I won the 100 metres sprint. As I dressed, my heart flew about behind my rib cage like a puppy dachshund on speed. I struggled to fasten clasps and buttons on my clothes as my hands shook like leaves blowing in the wind. My hair had to be raked back into a type of bun and I sprayed myself with my Musk deodorant moderately ( recalling James’ Old Spice error). 

 ‘I can wait,’ I hear Angus reply downstairs.  

It was seriously as if Johnny Depp himself had just stopped by. In fact I would have been less excited and afraid and absurdly happy. The kiss, the memory of it, I had tried hard to restrain. Until the moment I knew Angus was at the door. I removed its reins and it bolted forward like an untethered hound right into the forefront of my brain again. And I was delighted that it was back there. 

 Angus had been circling the U bend of the dead end road outside our house on his bike, doing bunny hops and skids. I didn’t realise at the time that he could have been showing off. He didn’t see me standing at the open door. 

 ‘Oi! So what are you doing here?’ I beamed at him. I wanted to give him the best of me. No pretending, or holding back. 

 He skidded one last time before pulling at the bike’s brakes, his tyres rumbling to a dead stop directly in front of me. The sight of him in a T- shirt and shorts was unusual as I’d been used to seeing him in school uniform. He looked more glorious than the sun ever would. Similar to the sun too, it was difficult to look directly his way. 

 He smiled back at me. It was one of those smiles where a person’s soul is revealed. 

 ‘I thought I’d just come and say hi,’ he explained, squinting as the nearly midday sun was in his eyes. 

 ‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it, since you’ve been here,’ I giggled, feeling a little like a young girl again; one who had swum too far into the deep end. 

 ‘About five years ago,’ he laughed, appearing a little embarrassed himself ( at least I think he was). 

 We spent the rest of the day together, doing all the things we used to do as a pair of innocent ten - year - old kiddies. We even bought a packet of ‘Love Hearts’ as in the old days. We’d emptied the packet of pale shaded, coloured sweets onto the bench under the shade of the ancient Oak, so we could choose which love heart messages we wanted to give to one another. Angus asked to choose all his first, while I closed my eyes. 

 By the time he reached his last Love Heart, it was beginning to melt in his hot hand. 

I held myself tight, thinking it was going to be some silly joke but hoping it wasn’t. 

‘Okay, open,’ he said. 

 I looked into the palm of his hand and despite the running red dye, I could make out in tiny raised letters on its circular surface, ‘I love You.’

 ‘Read it,” he whispered, his lips resting beside my ear. 

 Through a crashing, great smile, I read it aloud. ‘I love you!’

 ‘ Really?’ He said, his brown eyes looking far into mine. “That’s lucky, ‘cos I love you too. Always have and always will.’  

 The sweet was quickly lost in the long grass as we kissed one another for minutes at a time. 

And all that isn’t the best part. It’s this! Angus and I have planned to stay over at his house for the whole of tomorrow night- turns out his mum and dad have flown to Menorca and won’t be back for a week. OMG! I shall tell my parents I am staying at Sharon’s. She’ll cover for me. 

At last, real adulthood has begun.