twenty-something

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It's not back yet, but (hopefully) it will be soon. Here's a taste of what's to come.

(Don't remember the end of 1997? Read of the fateful meeting with Jay in the tenth and final chapter of '97.)

1998: Part One (Teaser)
"What You Wish For"
"Jay, there's something that I've wanted to tell you for a while, and I figure that now it as good a time as any."

I stare straight ahead, at him, at Jay. My boyfriend. The camera, of my mind's eye, focuses just on me. I look serious. Terrified. And I continue to recite my practiced monologue:

"It's not an earth-shattering thing, really, and you might get a good laugh out of it. It's one of those things I've always felt you needed to know, but when I think about it, I realize that it's something that you don't need to know, something you're probably better off not knowing, but I'm going to tell you anyway, because its something that I need to do."

Following my own stage directions in the script, at that moment, I sigh deeply. I pause, close my eyes, and draw a deep breath. I do not exhale. Not for many long seconds. And then: "Enough sounding neurotic. Now it's time to sound crazy."

I open my eyes, ready to face the man of my dreams.

"Jay, I wished for you."

The imaginary camera pulls back to reveal:

I am alone in my parents' bathroom, looking into the mirror, reading from a piece of paper. Oldest trick in the book.

I grimace at my delivery and try the line again, and again, never quite getting it right. It's a delicate thing to say to someone and, no matter how I, the seventeen-year-old dating the twenty-something med student, is convinced of this truth, I can't quite sound convincing enough when I say it aloud.

Yes, I'm quite convinced that I wished for Jay and that he, the man of my dreams, is the true answer to a desperate prayer. It took some convincing myself, some sleepless nights, some freaking out. But within a week after meeting this man, within a week under his powerful charms, I knew, as unbelievable as it sounded, that Jay was meant (and sent) for me.

Things are going well. Jay is, officially, my boyfriend. He says so. He sends me cute emails, many times daily, each singing sweet nothings though AOL. On the phone, he says I'm amazing. He calls me "sweet pea." He already talks about us living together that summer, after my graduation, going to the British Isles together for the month of August, and then living together that fall, as he thinks I should attend the University of Vermont. When we discover that we both love pineapple-and-bacon pizza, I decide that we'll be married by the time I'm 20. All this, and we have seen each other, in person, only once since our fateful meeting just a few weeks prior. But the second time, in Burlington, is powerful although brief. Bundled up, we walk around an ice-covered Church Street, have a nice lunch, and make out in his car atop a parking garage. We part and, for once, my heart does not ache. I feel no insecurity in this. I know I will see him again. After all, he is The One.

Things are going so well, in fact, that I have decided that I must let him know how it is we came to meet. It's only fair to let him know that he is a gift from some higher power, that we are soul mates.

And I will tell him all this in just a few days, as I am headed up to Burlington this weekend to spend the night with him at his apartment. It promises to be romantic and amazing. And to say that I can't wait for what will be the most important night of my young life is a given. I can't wait. Even though I didn't know it until this very moment, this is the night I've lived my life for.

"I prayed for you, Jay," I practice again, still dissatisfied with my delivery. I have to get it just right or else I'll sound crazy.

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See also: 1990 | 1991 | 1992 | 1993 | 1994 | 1995, Part One | 1995, Part Two | 1995, Part Three | 1996, Part One | 1996, Part Two | 1997, Part One | 1997, Part Two | 1997, Part Three | 1997, Part Four | 1997, Part Five | 1997, Part Six | 1997, Part Seven | 1997, Part Eight | 1997, Part Nine | 1997, Conclusion