No girl in high school broke my heart
except for Alexis.
We weren't involved or anything.
I would run into her occasionally at parties
or in the hallway between classes.
Alexis was "that girl."
Alexis slept with your boyfriend
or girlfriend.
She slept around, sideways,
inside, upside down, and backwards.
Red hair, pearly whites, manicured nails,
she took care of herself.
Mostly because no one else would.
Senior year. Anatomy and Physiology. Mrs. Livingood.
We sat next to each other.
We were partners for every project.
Every day, Alexis would come into class
and I would see the look in her eye.
The same de-sensitized, drained emptiness.
Most girls giggled or gazed at the naked human form--
at least a remark or two.
My new friend seemed tired of skin,
panting,
beds,
the dark.
It wasn't until Spring that I saw an altercation.
Tyler, a senior himself, had been sleeping with Alexis.
At this point, I gave a deaf ear to the rumors,
but at 7:36 a.m. on the third Thursday in March,
I got out of my car to see Alexis being pushed out
of a green truck's passenger door.
She tumbled to the ground in her bra and panties
with scratches on her back and a "whore!"
crashing into her head.
I walked over to her, picked her up,
slammed the door on Tyler's ankle
and carried her to the bathroom.
I went to the band room, got some of my extra clothes
and brought them to her.
My red Adidas shorts hung off of her and my
"Tulsa Soccer Club" shirt had sleeves too long.
She cried into 2nd hour.
It was the most emotion I'd ever seen her show.
I think it was at that point I began to loathe society.
I hated the porn, where the girls looked empty in the eyes.
I hated the "lose-your-virginity-in-high-school-to-your-first-love" stereotype.
I hated my friends, who called her a slut.
I hated myself for not breaking in to her in time.
I hated every boy who climbed in a girl's window, and vice versa.
I hated that I couldn't change their minds.
I hated every person who slept with whoever I was going to end up with.
I hated the people I had slept with.
I hated the drugs.
I hated teenage romance.
I hated my age.
Alexis and I were never in like or love or lust
or whatever the hell.
Still, I took her on a date.
Dinner, coffee, comedy show, and a party.
We held hands-- mostly because I wanted her to know
that innocence again.
I didn't feel her up, I didn't kiss her, I didn't put my hand on her thigh.
I took her home and watched a movie with her family.
I didn't look when she changed clothes.
I hugged her goodbye and that was the end of it.
She told me I gave her the only respect she'd ever gotten.
I told her to say "fuck you" instead of doing it.
She smiled.
Today she's a single mom.