Not Funny!

During the breakup, school was an especially difficult endeavor. It seemed like Tim was everywhere, laughing and cutting up with his friends while I felt like I could barely move from one room to another. My English Literature class was just down the hall from one of Tim’s classes. It had been a place where we would meet and exchange quick notes before dashing off to beat the bell.

You can imagine how surprised I was to look up one morning and find him standing beside my desk. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Force of habit, I suppose.”

Force of habit?! Are you kidding me? You ripped my heart out of my chest and now you have the nerve to stand here like nothing’s changed. Was it not enough for you to kill me once!?! “Oh.” I said distantly.

“Well, I guess I should get to class.”

I nodded. He left and I laid my head on my desk and cried.

The following weekend our school’s drama club was doing a performance of “Crimes of the Heart.” I went with my best friend, Dionka, and Tim was there, sitting with another girl. Lots of people speculated as to whether or not they were on a date but no one could confirm it. I tried hard to act like I didn’t care. I cared deeply.

After the play, we milled about congratulating the cast and visiting with friends. The prom was a mere week away and the whole place was abuzz with news of who was taking who. Somewhere in the mix, my best friend caught wind that Tim had chosen a date. We got in my mom’s car to leave and she broke the news to me.

“He’s going with somebody named Stephanie from another school.” She reported.

“WHAT?!”

Okay, we both had ex’s but this was the ex. The one he had dated for nearly two years; the one who was petite and bubbly and that his parents adored because she was just so entertaining. Her nickname was “Funny” for crying out loud. And she was everything that I was not in high school.

“Why her? Of all the girls on the planet he could’ve picked; why did he have to choose her?” I fumed as I put the car in reverse. I was so angry, so hurt, and so completely distraught until an unexpected thud and sudden jerking motion silenced me. I looked at Dionka. Slowly we both turned and looked out the back windshield. I had backed into a car parked a few spaces up. Not just any car. The Mac Daddy of all cars. Ca-di-llac. Ugh.

I kept my sensibilities long enough to pull right back into the space we had just vacated. I put the car in park and then crumbled into a heap of hysteria. Dionka ushered me out of the car and back into the Performing Arts Center where we searched frantically for our chorus teacher. She explained to him what had happened and he held me while I sobbed. Once I had regained some manner of control, he led me by the hand out to the cars and inspected both bumpers. Thanks to the providence of God and possibly the fact that it was 10 pm in a dimly lit parking lot; it appeared that neither car was damaged.

He turned the keys over to Dionka and instructed her to get us out of there and get me home for the night. Neither of us knew until after the fact that she did not yet have her license. I made it home safely that night; still stinging from the rejection by Tim and the humiliation of the accident, but safely home.

To the owner of the Cadillac that was parked in a PAC lot in Georgia sometime in May of 1991 –I’m very sorry…but it was really all Tim’s fault.