"So, you're a Co-op student?" He said to me one day.
He was a graduate of my high school who'd had a cable access comedy show while I was in junior high. He's twenty-two, but doesn't have a degree. He couldn't afford to go to university and was living at home, trying to save up some money to get to school. Somehow, though, he'd managed to get a column and a job as a summer student. Part of our time at the paper intersected and I ended up having some interesting conversations with him.
"I don't wear a watch. They remind me of women. I spend all my time staring at both of them. But women never hold on to my wrist," He joked, after I chastised him for asking me what time it was for the millionth time.
He is a very funny guy, but his humour acts as a defence mechanism. In one column, he even mentioned that he was seeking a girlfriend and to write in to the paper with offers. He was only half-joking.
I went to the paper one morning, my departure for Halifax for a lifeguard competition looming. I was leaving that afternoon. He and I talked while we worked. I was too excited to write candidate profiles for the upcoming municipal election; he was trying to work on a piece about a cat with HIV. Just before noon, I went to my supervisor's office to say good-bye and drop of my work. I slipped out the front entrance into the sunshine.
"Lily!"
I turned around at the sound of my name and saw him sitting on the wall surrounding the bed of red begonias.
"Hi," I said, approaching him.
"Hi," he said, "Do you want to go out some time?"
I turned into a deer caught in someone's high beams.
"Are you being serious, or are you just joking with me?"
You'd think he would have taken the hint.
"No, I'm serious."
I stared at my sandals and my wiggling toes as if they were a Van Gogh.
"Yeah, um... I guess so. But not until after I get back." Where was my head? Most likely, it was already in Halifax.
"When do you get back from the competition?"
"Sunday night," I mumbled.
"Sure. Will I see you Monday?"
"Um, no. I have class on Monday. I'll be back here on Tuesday."
"Good luck. Don't break anyone's leg."
"Thanks," I muttered.
I dashed off across the street, hoping to get hit by one of the many speeding trucks that frequent that route.
On Sunday night, after I'd been back home for only an hour, he called. I was exhausted and coming down with a cold from not having any sleep for four days, and puzzled that he had my phone number.
"Everyone in the newsroom knows you said yes," he said, "Jean knew you said yes because she's the one who pushed me out there to ask you."
This forced me into a panic. I hadn't been thinking clearly when he asked me out because of my excitement about Halifax. It hit me during the ride that even going on a date with him was completely against Co-op regulations, but I couldn't fix it until now. No student was allowed to date an employee of their place of work. And I didn't want to either. He was a friend, not the guy I'd date.
Tuesday, I returned to the paper. He came in to the sports office, where I was sitting at a free desk. I didn't turn around. I was busy, but I also couldn't face him. I managed to escape at lunch time back to school without talking to him. I hated avoiding him and not telling him how I felt, but I didn't want to hurt him either. That night, he called me at home. I was still curious as to how he got my phone number, but didn't ask. I told him how I was feeling, that I felt awkward because I was a Co-op student and he was an employee, and that I didn't feel comfortable with the age difference either. John spent five minutes stuttering.
"Don't... Next time, don't..."
"Don't let it go this long?"
"No, don't- don't...just don't-"
"Don't avoid you? Don't say yes if the answers no?"
"No, just..."
He kept torturing me as he stuttered. Finally, I just told him I had to go, that I was tired and had homework to do. I never did find out what he meant.
I wrote this for my writing class in first year. So I guess I got over the trauma of the whole thing. He even spoke to me for the first time in two years this past summer. Yeah, but I still laugh about how silly he was and how badly I reacted.
© lily keller 2001