I was still a goody two-shoes back then. From the high school graduating class of 1993 I went on to community college and still lived at home. I made friends from neighboring towns, a few who lived in apartments near home, and I stayed with them a lot. My first taste of independence. I cleaned the apartment a lot, and slept on a day bed off the living room right by the sliding glass door that led to the porch.
The phone would ring all hours of the night, always a boy who had had too much to drink on the other end, waking his ex-girlfriend in the other room. They would fight, I would lie awake and the next day I’d say, You know he’s not even going to remember it, right? You might as well just hang up. She couldn’t. Well, she did, but then he’d just call back again and she would answer, over and over. First love will do that.
We became the best of friends, as different as we were and we became more and more alike. She is still my Kimmy.
I was a care-taker and still am, so besides keeping her home clean, I tried too often to protect her heart. I couldn’t though because she had given it away and we all loved the drama.
It took Kim so long to get ready to go out and it didn’t take me long, so I would sit on the (closed) toilet and watch her put on make-up and curl her hair up on top until it was big enough. I would get impatient and tell her it was big enough, let’s go! We had very important party hopping to do. We for sure would hit up Trott Ave where the cute boys lived and then head over to the basketball player’s house. Everyone was drinking and I was not and this one night, the police came and so the call went out for all the sober people to go to the door first. I was in line and there was a breathalizer and I got the giggles like a drunk girl. The cop was not amused. I couldn’t blow in the thing very well because of the laughing. So I had to to it over and over. All of this stalling was helpful to the under-age drinkers who were busy climbing out a basement window and running away while the police dealt with a bunch of Innocents. You’re welcome, Guilties.
I would get home very late, either to my friend’s apartment or my parent’s house. I wasn’t hungover and I had tucked away the drama to remember. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up and I didn’t want to grow up.
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This post is a part of my friend Ann’s #WhereILivedWednesday. Visit Ann for more stories of places we’ve been.
{ 6 comments }
I love the part about you laughing too hard to take the breathalizer. Priceless.
Man, we could have used someone like you at our parties when I was a teenager!
I wish there were pictures of just how big Kim’s hair was when she was finally done. ;-)
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Love this.
I’m glad to meet a fellow goody two shoes. People need us. Lol
Love this slice of your story, you!
Sounds like a fun and yet responsible time! I love thinking back to college :)
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