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One morning, as I was walking her to her first period class, Jessica told me that she had been out on a date the night before. Her parents, out of spite for me, set her up with a son of a friend of the family. Friends form church, no less. Her hatred of her parents had caused her to not only recognize this guy as a flesh-hungry jock, but to sleep with him to get back at them for toying with her own emotions. She lost her virginity to get back at her parents, and felt so guilty about it that she could not face me. I don't blame her for how she felt, as I went ballistic upon hearing the news. I tried not to show my anger, and told her that we could skip first period if she wanted to talk about it. She insisted that we had to be over from that point on. It was the single largest joke I had ever heard in my life. She could not even give me the first period kiss. All I could do was slowly walk away. I took one look at her, and made the same decision she did. When love is ended, that is all there is.

This sent me into a rage of disgust that I have been very careful not to repeat, if only in the fact that I was surprised that I had it in me. It scares me. The moment itself showed me I was capable of such rage, and taught me that I will never release that rage on anyone else, just upon myself. I lasted fifteen minutes in my first period geometry class before I walked out. I went into the bathroom and began to pound a hole into the 3/4-inch wall of the toilet stall. By third period, the assistant principal, who had heard reports of someone off their rocker in the d-hall bathroom, came in and found me in the corner, with my right hand bleeding severely, and a large hole in the bathroom stall. He only said to me: "let's go see the nurse." I followed, in a state of pure resignation. Once the nurse had bandaged my hand, with the assistant principal watching, I was handed an off-campus pass. The assistant principal looked at me and said: "Go home." I left, in a state of nothing. Almost a Zen-like state, except that I was filled with desire. I desired to understand, and there was no one I could ask questions to. I drove to the rail-yards, and watched the trains pass by until the sun went down, and then went to work. I was late, but my expression left no one wanting to ask why. This failure I gave myself complete credit for and brooded over deeply. Jennifer was the one who was there to say I had nothing to do with what happened. She placed it in perspective for me, something no one had ever offered to do. She was there to hold me, let me cry, and say that it happens. As much as I had not wanted the love to fail between Jessica and I, the largest part of my heart was in stasis for Jennifer.

At the time, she had a really good boyfriend. He was a really nice guy. Even though he was not I, I could see that he was good to her. To me, that was a brick wall I would not tamper with. If she is happy, that is enough for me. After three years of wishing her to be happy with me, I began to just desire that the ones she was in-love with would be as protective of her spirit as I had always been. To not trap the one you love but to admire her, and the precious moments between. To never hunt her down and kill her, but to set her free. Two weeks later, it was time for the prom.