Cecilia

Well, I've just finished putting my first letter to Stacey into the envelope. She lives in Houston now and calls every once in a while. Things did not go too well during our last couple of phone conversations.

She would call her sister, Trisha, and her mom first. And if asked about me, they would simply tell her that I had been late coming in to work at their dry cleaners that day, or the previous day, or whatever day that they would come up with. If I was only 5 minutes late, they would make it sound as though it were hours. If I wasn't late, they'd create some other type of situation.

So, by the time she would get around to calling me, I of course could not tell my side of the story. In her mind, the fact was indisputable that I was unreliable. And so our conversation on the phone would be based around this idea and that her parents were probably going to kick me out of the house and/or fire me. No more underpaid job at the Dry Cleaners, no more living in my ex-girlfriend's parent's basement, no more false accusations? Oh, please no.

But, I do have to admit though, that I was so happy and excited to hear her voice on the other end of the phone, because I did miss her; but the end of the conversation always would go something like this: "Well, I gotta go now.' `O.K. Talk to you later.' `Bye.' CLICK.... And that shit hurts after a time. But then again, we had that type of relationship - we loved, we hurt, we loved, we hurt.

We dated for 7 & 1/2 years. Not all in a row, mind you. For her, there was Ronald, the official other. Not to mention of all of the other ones that "Didn't Count" she would say. But then again... I did have Sun-Hee and Jacky; the ones that "Did Count."

In these days of lost confusion & loneliness, I often wonder whatever happened to Cecilia Burrows, my first love...

We were both seniors in high school.

I saw her on the first day of the Winter Quarter.

At about nine in the morning on a Monday, "home-room" had just let out, and I was walking in the midst of students down the hallway, heading to my locker to get my notebook. I bought a new spiral notebook on the day beforehand, because I knew that I would need one for Algebra. I never was too good in Math.

Although my head was clouded with worries and feelings of dread for the coming Algebra class, I was not so lost in thought that I could not notice the beautiful girl who just seemed to float across my path. Out of the hundreds of annoying classmates that were milling all around me, this wonderful new stranger in my little world shone out like a beacon in the night. Though I had seen thousands of nameless faces in my high school career, I would have definitely noticed her before.

Clumsily shuffling all my papers together that had fallen out of my locker from my momentary distraction, I thought to myself "I will definitely be on the lookout for her!" Not realizing that I had found a new purpose, I walked outside to ramshackle trailer where my Algebra class was being held.

I entered the room very slowly, of course; I had to gaze over my classmates to see if there were any pretty girls that I should sit next to, or at least have good `peep-coverage.' (In college, my friends and I aptly named this technique as "Strategic Placement.")

Unfortunately there weren't really any to speak of. So I just took a seat in the front row. Yeah, I know. It sounds like I was one of those "nerdy-guys," but if that were the case, I sure as hell wish that my grades knew about it! Anyway, as I began to put my books and stuff under the desk, I glanced up at the chalkboard to see what the teacher had written as an introduction to this most difficult class and soon-to-be nightmare.

And BOOM!!! There she was. The beautiful girl that I had noticed in the hall. She was walking right into my classroom! I would have to describe her as the "a tall drink of water," though she was the Asian female equivalent of the phrase. She appeared tall, but maybe it was more of a `regal' appearance. She was slim, but not too skinny. She had silky long black hair, and smooth muscular legs that made her gait seem almost angelic.

OOOPPS! Sorry for interrupting the story here folks, but while I was writing this chapter for the first time, I was at my job, CJ Cleaners (yeah, Stacey's parents own it). And I have got to tell you folks what just happened here at CJ's.

I see a customer pull up, so I put down my pen and notebook to attend to business. A familiar-looking lady walks in, I give her a smile, and cheerfully say "Good Morning!" She doesn't say a word, but instead hands me her ticket with a look on her face that says "Die, you murderous little bastard!"

I give her the clothes and inform her that the total is $19.05. She pulls out a $20 bill and says "I can not believe that you are actually going to charge me for these." "Huh? - I'm sorry ma'am, but we did clean them for you."

Then I remember who she is. The lady with the meeting.

You see, Stacey's parents were not delivering the clothes to me on a daily basis anymore because they were short-staffed at the other location they own. So each night I gathered up all of the customers' clothes that were dropped off that day, and take them home. The next morning, Stacey's mom would take them to their store, forty miles away, clean them, bring them home that night and then put them in my car the next morning. Then I would take them back up to CJ's for the customer to pick them up. So, from the day that someone drops off their clothes to be cleaned, they get them about two days later.

Well, this lady came back the very next day after she had dropped them off. And when I explained to her the reason for the new time delay, she blew up. She then explained to me that she would be taking a flight to the west coast the next morning and would be needing her clothes for a meeting there.

Well, there was nothing I could do. So she tells me yet once again that she needs them right then and there. Now, I can understand being upset. I can even understand blaming it all on me. But come on folks, let's be practical. I mean, does she believe that I really do have them, cleaned and ready; but that I am just keeping them hidden in the back of the store and I am not about to give them to her until she says the magic word??

Sure, that's it.

Then the strobe lights come on, the bells go off, and I shout out - "CON - GRAT - U - LA - TIONS!!! - YOU HAVE JUST WON... YOUR CLOTHES!!"

J-E-E-E-Z.

Anyway, this morning, she is fuming at having to pay for them at all... Two pants, two 2-piece suits, and two jackets.

"I will never come here again! -I will tell everyone I know about this– You are all going down!"

Now, one option would have been to pick up one of the metal poles lying behind the counter and to give her a good thrashing, bellowing out "Who's going down now, bitch?"

But, instead, I slowly slid the $20 bill back across the counter towards her. "Here then, ma'am, it's on us, I'm sorry, pl..." Before I could even finish, she was already in her car; $20 in hand, no doubt. You know, I don't think I have ever ripped up a piece of paper so indistinguishable as I did to her ticket.

They say "No Ticket - No Clothes." Well, guess who had to pay for the tab? And do you think that Stacey's parents would have understood that not only did I make an excellent customer-service decision, but I also honorably paid for the shit myself? Of course not.

Anyway, back to Cecilia...

She was beautiful. To me, she was much more than just that. But first loves always are.

At the moment that I had gotten my first good look at her, I said to myself "Craig, my boy, your days of shyness are gonna have to stop right now. You must have her."

And I don't mean in the sexual sense.

Nor in that power-hungry way either.

I mean, more in that goo-goo eyed, "You are the reason for my existence" kind of way.

Unfortunately, though, she was sitting in a desk that was on way on the other side of the room. But fortune seemed to smile on me that day. Towards the end of the class, the teacher announced that "Tommorrow you should sit where you would like to be for the rest of the quarter," because the next day we would be assigned seats.

Before that day, I really hated `assigned seats,' as it would interfere with strategic placement. This day, I didn't mind so much.

The next day I hung out outside the trailer before class, waiting for Cecilia to go in first. And then after a few very long seconds, I casually strode in. My eyes quickly scanned the room and then I made my way over to the desk right next to hers. The funny thing is that it was the same damn desk as the one I sat in the day before.

HMMM... Coincedence? Or was there more to it than that? Did she notice me too? And more importantly was she applying strategic placement?

I do still have most of the little notes that she would leave under the windshield wiper of my old yellow 1971 Volkswagen Bug.

She was a model, an actress, and a gymnast. She even did "The King and I" in a big city theater.

She came to my kung fu school's "Chinese New Year" celebration that year. I will never forget how she stole her first kiss from me - Sifu (kung fu teacher) wasn't looking in my direction and we had just finished our demonstration. She leaned over, kissed me ever so gently on my cheek, and whispered into my ear "You looked so wonderful out there." I must admit that I had done the Northern Shaolin form, Tun Dah, pretty well that day. But did I care if it was the high & flashy tornado kicks that drew her attention and not the intricate joint-locking techniques?

HELL NO!

She was a Vietnamese girl who was early on adopted by an American family. And they had also adopted her little `acne-faced' sister. So...there were obviously some difficulties to our relationship.

Her American foster-parents wanted her to date Vietnamese guys.

Vietnamese guys that were middle to upper class.

And not some poor white boy.

So, the scrawny little `acne-faced' sister became their inside spy.

After two months of our little Romeo & Juliet charade, her folks sent her out to the West Coast.

I never really cared much for her little sister.

Four years later, and 98 miles north of Atlanta, I somehow bumped into that scrawny little `acne-face' again.

One Autumn day, at nine a.m. in the morning, I was standing before a class of Chinese language students - about 30 of them, I guess. It was exciting to give a demonstration and a lecture to those young freshmen studying at the University of Georgia, because by that time I already knew most of the Chinese Language fans on campus. I began to introduce my lesson, "To understand Chinese language thoroughly, you must know something of her culture..."

I was in the middle of performing some Chen style Taijiquan (Tai-Chi), when I came to the famous posture "Buddha's warrior assistant pounds mortar." It's a nice little movement where you stomp your foot on the ground, with your knees bent, and at the same time the back of one fist pounds the palm of the other. Together, with all of the stomping and pounding going on, it makes for a very startling noise. It was pretty damn funny though, to be see the faces of the on-lookers at this time, because up to that move, I had been going really, really slow & smooth, and all of the students were looking sleepy. And then wwsshh-POW!

They woke up.

So there I was, pounding the mortar, and as I was looking out into the crowd, these beautiful eyes strike me. I think to myself... "Cecilia???"

Nope. It was `acne-face.'

Only I couldn't really think of her as that; for all of the acne was gone and she had turned into a very pretty young woman.

Trying to regain my composure... I decided that I could never call her 'acne-face' again.

Nothing more than a simple wave to each other from across the campus ever ensued after that.

She did tell me once though, that Cecilia was still in L.A. and doing "just fine."

She told me something else, too.

And she mentioned that she thought it was very funny.

You see, Cecilia and I had our first date in a nice little Chinese restaraunt in Roswell, near our high school.

And for a six months after Cecilia was gone, I would visit that certain Chinese restaurant every Friday night.

I would always sat at the same table; the same one that Cecilia & I sat in.

I would not look up, or look around. I just ordered the food, ate my meal, and drank my hot tea, without ever looking up; always lost in memories...

But Cecilia's little sister told me that If I had ever had looked up... I would have noticed that she, `acne-face' was my waitress.

Every time...

Was she enjoying my misery?
Was she gloating over her hand in the part?

Whatever.
I guess you could call that ironic,
like when it rains on your wedding day or
when there's a no-smoking sign on your cigarrette break...

OK, OK... You're right.

It just plain sucks.

And I'll tell you something else. I did not agree with `acne-face' - it's not that funny.