She plays soccer like nobodies business, flittering in and out of the defenders like ballet on ice. Her hair is long and slightly curled, although rarely cut or permed. It is usually brushed, with a berrette pulling her bangs above her ears. I am fond of her pixie ankle socks with the white lace and the little star decals in the middle of her green fingernails. She is beautiful and I'm in love.
My attraction to her is the only reason I like school. I want to be around her, to see her, to share my thoughts. I know I can't read or write as well as the other fifth graders, but I have more to offer. I can protect her when needed. My three older brothers taught me not to take any guff from anyone. The best thing is, Alix has an affection for me.
It's the second week of February when the rain is constant and snow can be seen on the hilltops. I wanted to further my relationship with Alix. Progress involves risk. I realized I couldn't steal second base with my foot still on first.
I asked my teacher to help me make a Valentine's Day card for Alix. I came in the classroom during the noon recess so Mrs. Soderstrom and I could be alone. We sat down at one of the reading tables and I began to think of just the right poem.
Roses are red,
Violets are ....
"Mrs. Soderstrom, I asked, how do you spell blue? " I wanted it to be perfect. She says, "b-l-u..."
I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling, trying to visualize the letter, "u". I was still deep in thought when she asked if it would be easier if she wrote it down for me. I was very grateful. I drew a heart on the paper, colored it and cut out a Cupid from a newspaper advertisement. I folded the letter into three sections, matching the corners perfectly.
"Mrs. Soderstrom?", I said sheepishly, "May I have a real envelope to put it in? The clean white kind that you put stamps on?" As she was getting the envelope, I was practicing penmanship. " Mrs. Soderstrom, would you write her name for me? In cursive with a lot of slant? It's very important." She vurbalized her slow cursive, A-l-e-x.
I am swamped with emotion. The card is just the right thrill at the right moment. I can imagine the glow of warmth radiating from her when she reads the card. She will talk about it with her friends and daydream about me. In the middle of her reading group she will probably look out the window and wish for a sunny day for us to meet at the wall ball area of the play shed. Out on recess, she will notice me in a new light. Maybe return my kindness by asking me to play tag.
Giving her the valentine in person was out of the question. What shell I say? What will I say? I'll stammer or say something wrong. Oh mercy! I should wait a little longer in the school year to tell her how I feel. No, things can be worse. Come on man, I say to myself, grow some hair on your chest. After all, my errors are not published in the newspaper like a baseball player.
No, by golly, I'll present my heart in my hand and rely on her compassion. I'll describe to her how she brings out the best in me that breeds temperance, self-control, delegence, strength of will, content, and a hundred other virtues which the lonely heart never knows. She knows of my deep devotion. Her tenderness is so extraordinary. She won't laugh at me. I know her too well. I must move forward with this. A boat is safe in the harbor, but that is not what a boat is for. I must follow my guides to reach my destiny. Do I need a backup plan?
I decided my backup planning must parrallel a military strategist, precition and execution. Delivery of the card must be at the right time for receivership. She'll be embarrassed if she opens it among her friends. And that circle will razz her hard. She needs to be alone or in the classroom during an activity, so others will not ruin the moment.
On Monday, I gave my valentine to Alix's teacher. It's odd he's here today, I thought, usually Mr. Garywitz works during the end of the week. He job shares with Mrs. Ortiz. He is the best choice between the two because men feel the charm of pursuing something elusive but obtainable, a perpetual series of occations for hope. He's a wise man who rejoices for things he has. I gave him the precious envelope. He read to whom it was addressed in such a perfect cursive style.
As it happened, unbeknowist to me, he was substituting for a first grade teacher on his day off. The first grade class has a boy named AlEx who requires much of the teacher's attention. He must have been on his mind, thinking the letter was a note from the office. Mr. Garywitz gave my valentine to the boy in error. I did not know my AlIx spelled her name differently.
Alex was playing a math game with other 1st graders around. I could see him the door window. He opened the envelope and asked Mr. Garywitz to read it. The look on his face turned to puzzlement and mine to horror. He turned to the others around him in wonder. I saw an elbow jab him. Oh, God!
That afternoon, I was given an in-school suspension for fighting. I did not divuldge the reason for giving Alex a body-slam during recess. I sat in the detention room to cool off. I could think of no others but Mrs. Soderstrom spelling Alix's name wrong and Mr. Garywitz giving it to the wrong person. How could they be such idiots? My jaws ached from biting down. Then I felt like the idiot. I should have given Alix the valentine! I should have done it myself! Mom says, "If you want somethingthing done right, do it yourself." Oh, how those words hit home!
The next day I drew a picture of a poster hanging on my older brother's wall. It was an old man wearing a blue robe with white stars and a long white beard. He is stooped over a walking staff on a moonlight surface; Earth is visible in the black background. He was a space traveler. A picture we relate to. I purchased a wooden frame from a yard sale across the street and wrapped it in a large brown paper sack with a red yarn bow-tie. The budding romance was on again.
