| Jesse Even now, twenty-three years after the incident, I can remember his sweet, kind face, his joyful eyes, the way they sparkled in the sunlight of a new spring day, and his unusually full lips, the way they curled into a mischievous grin. Often I long to see his face, to hear his spontaneous laughter, and all I have to refer to is a school picture, a forced smile, not even his real one. He was my soulmate, my lover, but most of all, he was my best friend. We had been born in the same hospital, same floor, the same room. His mother and mine had grown up together themselves, and had been through so many times together. Even birth. We both were born to the world simultaneously, we both cried out as air rushed into our lungs, we were both pushed into our gasping mother�s arms, birth juices still coating our tiny bodies. We had started school together. That first day, in kindergarten, Mrs. McNelley�s class, was one of my most memorable. We clung together, helpless in this new world where our mothers, our beloved, sacred mothers, left us with this women, this Mrs. McNelley. At the tables, we sat together, our chairs scooted as close as they would go, every now and then, glancing hopefully at the door, wanting to see our mothers� cheerful and bright faces. By the end of the day, when they did come, we had given up hope. When they had come, we stared at them, disbelieving, until they scooped us up into their arms, hugged and kissed us and took us home, to the house our two families shared. We sulked for as long as possible for two five-year-olds, mad that our mother�s had abandoned us. Maybe that would teach them to leave us at this dreaded school. But they sent us back the next day. And the next, and so on, until we began to understand the concept, that they weren�t trying to abandon us, that they did truly love us. We went through college together, straight, kindergarten to our senior year, our final year of college. We had both studied the same things; Psychology, and we went into the field together. Our parents had called us the two peas, our school peers had teased us and called us boyfriend and girlfriend, and all the other adults called us adorable. We went through wonderful times together, and we went through heartbreaks. I can remember a certain heartbreak. His name was Brian Phillips. We had gone out for two and a half years, and then suddenly it was over. We were sitting in our bedroom, ours shared for fifteen years, Jesse sitting beside, arm draped across my shoulders. �He�s just a jerk, Diana. You should forget him.� �But I - I loved him, Jesse, I really did.� He had nodded, tucked his head against mine, and we had sat there, rocking back and forth for about thirty minutes. Slowly, he lifted my head up, his index and middle finger pushing my chin, to look him in the face. I was slightly amazed to see he had tears streaking down his cheeks, but not really that surprised. My hand reached, on its own accord, to wipe the tears from his pink cheeks. His head tilted into my hand and his eyes closed. That was when I realized why he had been crying. All those years, all those times he had smiled at me reassuringly, all those times he squeezed my hand, I thought he had been being a good friend. I had never seen the furtive glances, never seen the reluctant looks when a guy asked me out. I had never thought of him as anything more than a friend. Until that day, in our room, my hand covering his cheek, his beautiful eyes lidded. Before his eyes had opened, I had quickly leaned in, kissing his lips underneath mine. His eyes had popped open in surprise, but then closed quickly, bringing a hand up to my own face. Slowly we pulled back, breathing rapidly, leaning against the other�s forehead. �Wow.� I had whispered. And we had been together ever since. Until his accident, anyway. Oh, how I loathe thinking about that day, that day that brought nothing but pain and loss. That day my life had shattered. That day I had lost my Jesse. We had been going to a movie, for our fifth anniversary. We had been dating since the tenth grade, but we had wanted to wait until after college to get married. And we were going to get married. If only that day hadn�t been Monday. Every Monday was trash day. The garbage men went around, collecting the trash, not doing anything really that exciting. The guy who took the trash for the cinema was named Burt. Burt Hammel. Everyone knew him and thought him a pretty good guy. No one had talked, or even seen Burt since that Monday. Standing in line, ordering our popcorn, it had never even occurred to me that it was trash day. Of course not, why should it matter? Jesse was a hopeless romantic, which didn�t bother me a bit, and so he wanted to see Titanic. I�d seen the movie before, with my friends, but Jesse was determined to watch it. We sat watching half of the movie, eating our popcorn, and made out the rest of it. He could rent it sometime. After the movie was over and the lights had come back on, we straightened our clothes and went out to our car. Jesse opened the door for me, made a funny bow and ushered me inside. I graciously smiled at him as he shut the door. Neither one of us saw the garbage truck until it hit Jesse. I screamed and scrabbled to open the door. As I knelt by my lover�s crumpled body, crying, Burt Hammel sat in his truck, his face white as a ghost. Burt had seen the boy standing in the middle of the road, smiling into the car, and had slammed on the brakes. They had squeaked, grunted... and failed. He had turned the wheel to the right, trying to avoid him, but the truck was too big to be turned that fast. The truck jumped like it had just went over a large speed bump, and finally slowed to a stop. As his trembling hand felt for the door handles, the blood drained from his face. He had just run over someone. He had killed someone with his profession. He swallowed and finally got the door open. I didn�t realize a figure had stepped in front of me until the shadow obstructed my view. I looked up slowly, emotion filling my face, tears streaming down in angular streaks. When I saw who it was, anger encompassed my emotions and I glared at him. �Do you know what you just did? Do you? You killed my only true love! I hate you! You killed him!� I had begun crying again as I punched at Burt, trying to make him understand what he done to me, how much he had hurt me. He had just stood, his face full of shock and sorrow. Finally I stopped punching him, collapsed to the ground again, sobbing, and pulled Jesse to my lap. As I buried my face in his, my hot tears dropping on his already cooling skin, I heard the distant wails of an ambulance. These past twenty-three years, I have gotten past my lost and found new love. My husband, Mir, and I now have two children Jesse and Carol, but I will never forget my first true love, my soulmate, best friend, and guardian angel, Jesse. |