Salt in the Wound

Johnny and I headed out that evening for a “Tim who?” night or so I thought. Our first stop was the movie theatre –two tickets to “Sleeping with the Enemy.” So far, so good. I was actually enjoying myself and things were going fine until Julia Roberts just had to move in next to a drama teacher dancing around his backyard whistling songs from West Side Story. Mine and Tim’s West Side Story. Johnny looked at me and grimaced as the tears began to well up in my eyes. I’m certain I was the only one in the crowd crying when Julia shot her demented husband.

We left the theatre and in hopes of redeeming the night, Johnny suggested we drop by the video store and rent a nice comedy. We made our selection and moved to the counter to check out where who should be working? None other than Tim’s best friend (and eventual best man in our wedding) Mike, of course. “You’re on a date! Whoa, you bounced back fast. Wait ‘til I tell Tim.” He chimed. With a new puddle of tears clouding my eyes, I ran out the door and waited at Johnny’s truck. He stayed behind and tried to clarify that we were not on a date and I had not bounced back; tearfully fleeing the store was Exhibit A to the contrary.

Well, the night was going swimmingly if you didn’t count the mascara now pooling under my eyes and the streak marks down my earlier press-powdered face. Johnny was beside himself with guilt for adding to my torment. I thought it best if he took me home but he would not give up that easily.

“Please, let me just take you one more place and if you don’t feel any better, I’ll take you home and you’ll never hear from me again.”

I relented and after a short drive we pulled up in the parking lot of E.W. Oliver Elementary School. What in heavens name are we doing here? I wondered as I followed him to the back of the school and out onto the playground.

“You’re probably wondering what in the world we are doing here?” he said. Obviously. “Well, do you see those monkey bars over there?”

I nodded. By this time it was dark and starting to mist but Johnny was undeterred.

“When I was in elementary school, there was a girl named Betty Lou Henson* who used to hang upside down from those monkey bars. She was the prettiest girl in the school and I wanted more than anything for her to notice me.”

I was wet and chilled but intrigued. He continued.

“I decided that the only way to impress her was to hang upside down just like she did. So, one day I climbed to the top of the monkey bars, got into position, and lowered myself down. I yelled, ‘Hey, Betty Lou, look at me!’ And do you know what happened next?”

I ventured a sarcastic guess, “She fell madly in love with you.”

“No!” he replied emphatically. “I lost my grip and fell to the ground. I landed square on my face and my nose started pouring blood all over my shirt. Betty Lou took one look at me, pointed her finger and laughed hysterically before running away with her friends.” He paused momentarily for effect. “And do you know what the point of this story is?”

I shot him a look that was something of a mix between confusion and amusement while shrugging my now very damp shoulders.

“The point is this. Sometimes you fall off the monkey bars and bust your nose and it bleeds all over the place. And it hurts for a while but sooner or later you’ve got to climb back up on those bars and try again.” I couldn’t help but smile at the insanity of it all. “Now I better get you out of this rain before I top the night off by giving you pneumonia.”

The evening ended as Johnny serenaded me in my front yard with the theme from Love Boat. At that point, I could’ve said the heck with Tim Sexton. Here stood a guy who was willing to make a complete and utter fool of himself just for me. And I had little doubt that, given the right indicators, he would have grabbed me up and smothered me in another deep though somewhat less than satisfying kiss. But my heart. My heart was still pining away for the guy who didn’t seem to want me.