Page 18 of Tainted Love

Mom tilts her head to the side, a curious look on her face. “What did he say?”

I avoid her gaze and stare straight ahead, releasing a heavy sigh. “He didn't even remember me.”

She falls silent, studying my face with a fond smile. “You've grown and changed so much,” she remarks softly.

“Well, he's changed too,” I retort. “But I still recognized him.”

“Are you sure it's him?” she asks.

I nod. “Same eyes, same crooked grin. And apparently, the same love for hockey.”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it, Bug,” she responds with a warm smile. “He's probably been through a lot. You know how boys' brains develop at a slower pace compared to girls.”

I scoff in agreement, nodding my head. “Ain't that the truth?”

She chuckles, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually. And if he doesn't, you can have the opportunity to meet him again as if for the first time.”

I shrug, “I suppose.” But as I return to the task of snapping green beans, I'm uneasy about the interaction.

As night settled in, I lay in bed with my thoughts still consumed by the events of the day. How is it possible for one person in a relationship to feel such intense emotions while the other seems to easily forget? Memories are complex and elusive creatures, tucked away deep within our minds and intertwined with powerful emotions.

When I reflect on my year in kindergarten, I struggle to recall specific moments, but instead, a flood of feelings rush back to me. I remember feeling happy and secure with him, trusted and loved at such a young age.

The memory of Michael not returning to school still brings tears to my eyes. I cried for him and his brother, and over the years, he's crossed my mind countless times. In the dimly lit room, I can just make out the reflection of my dresser in the moonlight peeking through the curtains. The mirror is surrounded by polaroids of my loved ones - my parents, my friends, one of me and Lydia—each frozen in a moment captured on film. And there is also a small note reminding me that I owe a chocolate bar to Michael Tazman—a bittersweet reminder of a friendship lost but not forgotten.

An idea strikes, and satisfied with my plan for tomorrow, I drift off to sleep. My mind is consumed with images of carefree children running and playing in a sun-dappled schoolyard. The sound of their laughter echoes through my dreams as they chase each other and take turns on the swings.

The following day, I approach the group of hockey boys in the hallway before the first period bell. I wring my hands together and shuffle nervously, thinking this was a much better idea last night in the safety of my room.

As I draw near, some of them turn to glance at me. Michael stands across from one of his teammates, his back to me, but then looks over his shoulder and our eyes meet, I feel a surge of panic and make a quick about-face, practically sprinting toward the girls' bathroom for safety.

Smooth, Sash. Real smooth.

Once I gather my thoughts, I return to the cafeteria to face my friends.

“What was I thinking? I was actually going to stride up to him and offer him a candy bar. Who does that? The idea is absurd. Why did I think it would impress him or make him remember me? And in front of his friends? I must have lost all sense of logic and reason,” I’m talking to my friends, but I’m also chastising myself for being so lame. When I finally stop ranting and come up for air, I’m met with the faces of my amused friends.

Darius and Sarah sit across from me at the lunch table, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief. They have been offering supportive head nods and trying not to show too much shock at my clear lack of sound decision-making skills over the past twenty-four hours.

“Oh, Sash,” Darius says with a warm smile. “What a sweet and endearing story. It sounds like he was your first true friend.”

Rolling my eyes, I continue my rant. “I should be the one to move now. This is beyond embarrassing. I could just crawl into a hole and never come out.”

Sarah slides into the seat beside me on the bench and pats my back. “Come on, you're being a bit dramatic. I'm sure it wasn't as bad as you think.”

I let out a deep sigh and drop my head onto my forearm, the cool wood of the table weaving through the large knit holes of my sweater. “I still can't believe I almost went through with it,” I mumble, my voice muffled by the thick fabric. A wave of embarrassment washes over me again, making my cheeks flush with heat.

“Sash, my dear,” Darius says in a soothing tone, “making decisions like this without consulting a friend may not be the best idea. Maybe next time, you should run it by one of us before hatching a grand scheme to lure a stranger in with a chocolate bar.”

“I think the issue here is that you need to have a private conversation with him,” Sarah interjects. “It's already difficult enough to talk to boys in person, and more so when they're surrounded by their friends.”

“Yes, finding a way to get him alone is crucial,” Darius adds with a sly smile. “Then maybe I can have some time alone with Sarah's sexy cousin.” He winks mischievously as Sarah playfully gags in response.

“Can we please talk about something else?” I plead, feeling defeated. The mere thought of seeing him in PE next period is already putting me on edge. Sarah runs a comforting hand over my back. “What's going on with the two of you?” I ask, changing the subject. “Any new developments?”

“Not really,” Sarah shrugs. But then her face lights up with excitement. “I'm excited about the way the band is shaping up this year,” she says with a bright smile.

“I agree,” I respond eagerly. “I think we have a real shot at winning some competitions.”